Page 52 of Looking Grimm

Nash might not have been using me for protection, but I wanted to give that to him, and this was the only way I knew how.

My toes teetered on the cliff’s edge as the wind swirled around me.

I never did learn how to fly. But I could fall.

The waves would drag me under, and I would drown in bottomless black. It sounded scary, but I was already scared. At least this way, I knew it would end.

A chilling breeze swept up from behind, swaying me forward. I almost let it tip me over, but a flash of panic drove me backward.

I swore and reset my feet, grabbing my wrist and rubbingmy fingers across the old scar there. If I hadn’t failed at this before, who might have lived? Dozens of investigators? Isha? Donovan?

“Fitch?”

Nash’s voice carried on a current of air to my ears.

I didn’t turn around. I wanted to do this for him. He’d be better off with someone else, or even alone if that’s what it came to. I couldn’t love him the way he deserved, and I wouldn’t stand in the way of his happiness.

“Fitch, what the hell?” Nash called over. “It’s freezing out here. Why didn’t you come inside?”

If I was going to jump, I needed to do it. Get it over with. But throwing myself into a watery abyss while Nash watched felt cruel. And moving any farther away from him when I wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms was impossible.

I stood as though I were mired in place until Nash arrived at my side. He wore a heavy canvas coat, and a fringe of ginger hair peeked out from under his stocking cap.

“Not so close to the edge.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “What if you fell?”

When he caught sight of my face, all sense of scolding left him. His grip on my elbow tightened, fingers digging in.

“Fitch,” he said, then repeated more forcefully, “What if you fell?”

I drew a shaky breath. “Let me do this. If I’m gone, you’ll be safe. Do you know how many lives I could have saved if I had just… died?” Tears snuck in, threatening to choke me. I was so tired of crying.

“Don’t talk like that.” Nash tugged on me, but I stayed firm.

“Even Donnie,” I continued. “He’d still be here if I… if I—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nash argued. “None of it. Donovan wouldn’t want you blaming yourself…”

God, he looked scared. Gaping while his hand wrenched tight around my arm. “Were you gonna jump?” he whispered.

My lips pursed, and I swallowed hard.

Nash stepped in front of me, putting himself in the narrow space between me and the bluff. The sight of his boot heels so near the crumbling edge of the cliff prompted me to retreat. I pulled him forward in a series of staggering steps, assuring myself he was far from danger before I could breathe enough to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were closing the bar?” I asked.

He took a moment to reply. “How could I? You don’t answer my calls.”

The burner phone felt heavy in my pocket, full of unheard voicemails and unread texts. He should have been mad but, instead, he sounded resigned, and I hated that.

“Fitch, what’s going on?” he asked. “I saw you on the porch. Why didn’t you come in?”

He’d seen? How? Probably a hidden camera. Everybody had the damn things.

“You deserve better than me,” I muttered.

Nash’s eyes flicked aside, then sharpened in a scowl. “Can we talk inside? Away from—” he nodded toward the bluff— “that?”

My shoulders slumped, and my head hung low, muffling my voice as I said, “I warned you I’d ruin your life.”

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