Page 9 of Reckless: Chaos

His eyes meet mine, carrying challenge and promise. “With you? Always.”

“Just so we’re clear,” I say as we walk toward the plane, my heart already trying to escape my chest, “Ryker is going to actually murder us when he finds out we broke quarantine.”

“Probably.” Finn looks far too pleased with himself. “But I planned this weeks ago. Called in favors. Set up the timing. Not letting a little thing like house arrest ruin my grand gesture.”

“Grand gesture?” I pause halfway up the steps to the plane. “Is that what this is?”

He just winks, guiding me inside where an instructor waits with equipment that looks way too flimsy to trust my life to.

“Finn’s been practicing for weeks to get certified to jump tandem,” the instructor says as he helps me into a harness. “Man’s determined, I’ll give him that.”

I spin to face Finn, who’s already suiting up with practiced ease. “Weeks?”

“Told you.” His grin is both sheepish and proud. “Been planning this. Wanted to show you that sometimes the scariest falls are worth taking.”

The metaphor isn’t lost on me.

The pre-jump briefing passes in a blur of instructions and safety checks. Soon we’re airborne, the sunrise painting the sky in colors that make my breath catch.

“Having second thoughts?” Finn asks as we reach jump altitude, his body solid and warm against my back as he checks our connections one final time.

“About jumping out of a perfectly good airplane with a man who’s been secretly taking skydiving lessons just to prove a point?” I laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Only about a thousand of them.”

“Good thing you only need one thought to override them all.” His breath tickles my ear.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Trust.” His arms tighten around me as the door opens, wind and dawn light rushing in. “Remember the mansion? Same principle. Don’t fight it. Dance with it.”

The instructor gives us the signal. My heartbeat drums against my ribs so violently I wonder if Finn can feel it vibrating through the harness connecting us, my pulse broadcasting fear in Morse code against his chest.

“Ready?” he asks, and I hear all the layers in that question. Ready to fall. Ready to trust. Ready to face whatever comes next.

“With you?” I echo his words from earlier. “Always.”

We jump.

The world explodes into sensation—wind tearing at my clothes, heart trying to escape my chest, the solid warmth of Finn against my back the only thing keeping me from pure panic. For one eternal moment, we hang suspended between earth and sky, between fear and freedom.

Then something shifts.

Fear transforms into pure exhilaration as we cut through dawn-painted clouds. The sun breaks over the horizon, turning the world into fire and glory. Finn’s presence anchors me as we spin through heaven, his controlled movements guiding our dance with gravity.

I’m screaming. Or laughing. Or both. The sound tears from my throat, primal and pure, carrying away weeks of tension and secrets and fear.

When the chute opens, the sudden quiet feels holy. We float like ancient gods through a sky that belongs only to us, suspended in a moment of perfect beauty. The sunrise paints everything in shades of gold and promise, making my chest ache with the perfection of it.

“Worth Ryker’s wrath?” Finn’s voice carries notes I’ve never heard before—joy and pride and something deeper.

“Worth everything.”

We land in a field kissed by morning dew, the grass sparkling like scattered diamonds. My legs shake with adrenaline as we unhook from each other, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Finn helps me out of the harness with those steady hands that have guided me through security systems and sky falls alike.

But before he can step back, before this moment can shatter into reality, I grab his tactical vest and pull him close. The material is rough under my fingers, his heart pounding strong enough that I can feel it through the layers.

“Thank you,” I whisper, watching his pupils dilate at our proximity. “For making me fall.”

His eyes drop to my lips, and the intent in them makes my breath catch. Gone is the controlled intellectual, replaced by something far more primal. “My pleasure.”

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