Page 72 of The Bourbon Bet
“I had no idea.” Her gaze sweeps the area around us. “And here I dragged you up to—oh wow, look at that hawk!” She points and shuffles back.
Panic shoots through me as I surge forward, wrapping my arms around her. “Be careful,” I gasp.
“I will be,” she promises, melting into me and making the sixty-five-foot heart-attack-inducing bridge worth it. “Look here.” She wiggles her phone. “Smile.”
I do, and she takes a quick photo. After sliding her phone into her pocket, she rubs my forearm that’s wrapped around her. “Why did you agree to this hike?”
“Because you’d mentioned revisiting your favorite childhood hike was on your bucket list. I wanted to make it happen,” I say against her ear.
“I’m glad I did it with you. To make this memory with you,” she murmurs.
I’m in so much damn trouble. This woman and her sweet words have the ability to obliterate my resolve and rules. She made me hope for a future I’d thought was impossible during and after my divorce.
She’s quiet for a moment, still within the circle of my arms, both of us looking out at the horizon. Then she asks softly, “Have you always been afraid of heights?”
I tense slightly, not expecting the question, but her warmth against me makes it easier to answer. “No. It started when I was eight.”
“What happened?”
I hesitate, rarely sharing this story with anyone. “My father took Thorne and me to one of the rickhouses where we age the bourbon. Lillianna was sick, so she’d skipped. Anyway, there were six floors with these narrow walkways between the barrels. We were on the top floor. My brother was running ahead, showing off as usual. The railings back then weren’t up to today's safety codes.”
Rosalia shifts slightly to look at my face, her eyes encouraging me to continue.
“He slipped and fell through a gap. Somehow caught himself on the edge.” Even now, my heart races remembering it. “His fingers were losing their grip. I ran and grabbed his wrist just as he lost his grip.”
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
“I was holding him with everything I had, but I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up. He was slipping and I couldn’t save him.” The terrified look in my brother’s eyes, my straining muscles to the point of tearing, and the dizzying drop below have never left me. I fucking hate that feeling of absolute helplessness. “Dad finally reached us and pulled him to safety, but ever since then…”
“Heights trigger that memory,” she finishes for me.
“It’s not rational. I know that. But my body doesn’t seem to care about logic.”
Rosalia turns fully in my arms, her expression soft. “Yet you came up here anyway. For me.”
“For you,” I repeat.
“Do you want to leave?” she asks.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Neither of us moves. Contentment sinks into me. Despite the fear that had gripped me moments ago, her presence calms my nerves and fills me with peace. I let go of all that might go wrong with us and allow myself to bask in the warmth of her touch and the sweetness of her scent.
Reluctantly, I loosen my hold and step back to look at her. “Thank you,” I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her warm brown eyes search mine.“For what?”
“For being here with me. For making this memory.” I cup her cheek, running a thumb along her soft lips.
Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes flutter close for a heartbeat. When she opens them again, they shimmer with emotion. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” she murmurs.
I take her hand in mine, and we turn away from the edge of the bridge. We make our way down the trail, our fingers intertwined.
We stay like that for a few more minutes, neither of us wanting to break the spell. Eventually, though, the afternoon heat and other hikers remind us we should head back.
Reluctantly, I loosen my hold and step back. “Ready to head down?”
She nods, but something in her expression shifts as we turn away from the bridge. And the closer we get to my truck, the quieter and more distant she becomes.
