Page 66 of Swept Away

“If we got higher…” I take a shaky breath. “If we got higher, we could see more.”

Zeke nods. “Maybe see boats, or even land…”

I keep my gaze fixed to that tower, stark and steely against the sky. When I close my eyes for a moment, I can still see its shape, inverted, white against darkness.

I hate heights. As a kid, I wouldn’t even go up on the monkey bars; if a building has more than three stories, I avoid the view from the windows.

“Only one of us should go,” I say. “It’ll be dangerous. I’ll…” The sentence sticks to my tongue.

I want to say I’ll go. I’m a woman who steps up when things are hard or a decision needs to be made—that’s who Iwantto be. And Zeke’s injury has clearly worsened since we got here. The last thinghe needs is to climb a gigantic ladder. But I am starting to sweat at the very thought of going up that tower.

“It has to be me that goes,” he says. “Your body’s been through so much today. No way am I letting you do that.”

I drag my gaze away from the ladder and watch Zeke knock back his Coke, throat working, eyes closed against the bright sky.

He’s a beautiful man. Thoughtful and kind, with just a dash of darkness to him. When I’m with him, I feel different: like I’m worth what I used to think I was worth. Like I’msomeone. That’s the gift he’s given me out here, and despite every horror we’ve been through, I feel genuinely lucky to have had this time with him. That’s how special he is.

I don’t want Zeke going up that tower. Getting onto the rig was hard enough for him. I know his wound is hurting, and I live in constant terror of it opening up again, or worse, getting infected.

“I’ll go,” I manage.

“Lexi, that’s crazy, you can’t—”

And then I say the one thing that I know will make him back off.

“Don’t tell me I can’t. Iwantto do it.”

To begin with, the ladder is nice and sturdy, with wide rungs covered in chipped yellow paint. It’s not too badly rusted—I feel safe. In a deeply unsafe sort of way, of course.

I’m out of breath by the time I reach the platform that leads to the next ladder. It’s broad, with thick metal railings.This is OK, I think, gripping the rail tightly as I pick my way across to the body of the tower, the birds cawing their protest around me.I’m doing OK.

“All right, Lexi?”

Zeke’s voice is distant now. I glance downward, then let out aquiet, terrifiedohas I realize how high above the main platform I am already. Zeke looks minuscule down there, his upturned face no bigger than a thumbnail.

“Oh, God,” I say, gripping the railing with both hands as my vision starts to swim and the ground morphs below me.

This next ladder is not as sturdy. It’s thinner, with a sparing curved framework around it, a pretty cursory nod to safety. I wonder if the people who’d normally climb this tower would be in harnesses, secured with ropes. I’ve got nothing, just my bare palms on the metal, my black boots on the rungs.

“You OK?” Zeke calls.

I almost wish he knew how afraid I am of heights. I wish I weren’t doing this. For a traitorous second, I decide I don’t care about Zeke at all, and I’d rather he were going up this ladder than me.

“I’m OK,” I shout down. “I can do this.”

I keep saying it as I get set on the first rung. It feels so flimsy, and the wind can reach every part of me as I climb now, with only the caging around the ladder and the sparse structure of the tower to shelter me. It tugs at my clothes, making my jumper buffet my body.

“I can do this,” I say.

Up another few rungs, and another. The sea unfurls beneath me; I can hear it, but all I can see is metal and sky. My thigh muscles are beginning to burn, my palms getting sore.

“Five more,” I say to myself. “You can do five more rungs, can’t you?”

My foot slips. It’s the tiniest movement, a miscalculation by no more than a centimeter, and I find my footing within seconds, but my stomach clenches and my heart hammers and suddenly I am too aware of it all: the open sky at my back, the smallness of Zeke’s voice, the gap between living and dying.

I lean my forehead on the ladder. It burns cold against my skin, an icy brand running from my eyebrow to my cheekbone. As my heart rate slowly steadies, I tilt my head so I can glance out at the horizon. I amsohigh. Then I look up at the triangle of the tower above me, and it’s clear there’s still so, so much further to go.

I don’t know whether I can see Zeke—I’m too afraid to look down. There is a constant butterfly-lightness in my stomach, and my breath doesn’t seem to make it to my lungs. It just flutters in and out of my mouth.

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