Page 117 of Chalk Outline
My gaze falls to the gap between us.
I’m doing this.
My boots blur slightly when my heart rate picks up, but I breathe the fresh air in and out until everything comes into focus.
With one last glance at the night sky, I jump. A squeal escapes me as I slide forward at high speed. A tickling sensation bursts in my feet and hands. I smile and laugh.
The cold air feels less numbing. The sadness fades, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. A tear rolls down my cheek because it feels like flying.
Jason catches me as I reach his balcony and helps me down.
“That was epic.” I glance at my balcony, breathing heavily. Adrenaline pumps through my body as I remove my helmet.
“You had fun?” he asks, disconnecting all the gear from my body.
“Absolutely.”
“Nothing can stop you,” he whispers, and I swallow thickly.
I don’t know what to think or what to say.
I don’t know if this is…another game.
My eyes follow his movements, as if he were a deceptive ghost whispering lies.
I don’t want it to be a trap or to be given false hope.
“Do you really want me to take off your mask?” I ask. I want to see what he looks like. I want to know who he is. But what if he…isn’t him.
“Yes, I want you to do it.”
He bows his head to me but keeps his eyes on mine. With shaky hands, I reach up to grab the mask and lift the straps that hold it tightly behind his head.
My throat clogs.
My heart thuds against my ribcage.
Terror and relief wash over me, but mostly I feel as though I’m about to faint.
Those have always been my husband’s eyes. How could I not recognize the man I am deeply in love with and have never stopped loving for a second?
I thought I was losing it.
But when he stood before me, it was hard to deny it.
On the night of my twenty-sixth birthday, right before he left and never came back, he said,“I will be back, I promise.”
The mask drops between us, hitting the floor as his face is finally revealed. He didn’t use black paint this time. A layer of light stubble covers his handsome face.
Hauntingly beautiful.
The thin scar above his upper lip stretches about an inch to the left side of his face. My first instinct is to ask who did this to him, but it doesn’t matter as long as he is safe here with me.
“Reeve…”
A needle-like sensation shoots up my right arm.
This is too much.
