thought, closing her eyes, her life would move forward too.
The sound of her name startled her, and her eyes flew open. But no, she was mistaken, she must be, because she'd come up here to be alone for her goodbye and there weren't any others on the bluff. Below, though light shone in some of the Crescent Cove bungalow windows and farther off was the glow from Captain Crow's, the nearest dwellings were dark. She'd packed and put her belongings in her car and closed up No. 8. Beach House No. 9 still appeared deserted.
Yet something caused the downy hairs on the back of her neck to rise. Rubbing her nape, she edged closer to the rim of her jutting promontory. This protrusion was nowhere near the bluff's highest point, but it seemed a long twelve feet to where the water swirled and lifted in white tufts against the jagged edges of rock below. She shivered and took a wary step back, then her gaze shifted left and caught on the sight of a dark figure scaling the cliff. Swift and sure, he swung up arm-over-arm, something - a bag? - caught in the grip of his teeth, just like a pirate clenching a dagger, climbing the riggings of an unsuspecting ship.
Jane retreated two more steps, until her back pressed against the rough surface of the bluff's face. It still left little room for the buccaneer who reached her ledge and tore the paper from his mouth to address her in a raspy, breathless voice. "What the hell are you doing?"
It wasn't fair, she thought. She'd come up here to gain perspective. To begin the process, finally, of abandoning hope when it came to her and Griffin. But seeing him again, even wearing a grim expression and with his chest heaving with jerky breaths, made her skin feel tender and her heart soften with exquisite yearning, both painful and sweet.
"Well?" he prompted, clearly agitated.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she met his gaze in stubborn silence.
"It's dangerous up here," he said. "You shouldn't risk it."
"That's rich coming from you," she said, then managed a little smile. "Hey. Irony again."
The line of his mouth flattened. "Let's go, Jane." He held out his hand to her. "I'll help you down."
She shook her head, shuffling away from his touch. "I don't need your help. I got up here just fine on my own, though by an admittedly tamer route than yours."
"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "I took a shortcut when I spotted you. I was worried..."
"Worried about what?"
His gaze cut away from hers, and she suddenly knew what had gone through his mind.
"No," she said, a laugh escaping. "You thought I was going to do myself in? All because you don't love me?"
"No. I don't know. Not exactly." He still wouldn't look at her. "Go ahead, call me Mr. Ego again."
Except the idea of jumping in had crossed her mind. Not because she wanted to end it all - yes, Mr. Ego indeed - but because she wanted a temporary end to her current unhappiness. Griffin wasn't in love with her. He was going toward danger, and she might never see him alive again.
According to Tess, the jolt of jumping off could offer some reprieve. It had a numbing power.
Jane moistened her lips. "Does adrenaline really get rid of the pain?"
His glance was wary.
"Is that why you're going to Gage? To get away from what's hurting you here?"
He made a dismissive gesture, drawing both their attention to the bag he was holding.
"Look," he said. "I brought you presents. Come down and you can have them."
"Presents?" Jane frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Gifts to appease his conscience? "I don't need anything from you."
"I missed your birthday," Griffin said.
"For heaven's sake..." Couldn't he just go away? The shelf of rock was so small that she could feel his body heat from here. It pressed against her breastbone, making it hard to breathe. Putting stress on her already battered heart.
"Come on down," he coaxed again.
"I won't," Jane said. She'd depart on her own terms. Alone, just the way she'd arrived that day when she'd foolishly disregarded the skull and crossbones, scoffing at the idea of danger.
He sighed, apparently accepting her stubbornness. "Fine, then," he said, his tone disgruntled. Then he rummaged in the bag. "I was at the mercy of that convenience store a couple of miles away, you understand."
"If it's one of those icky beef sticks, I'm tossing it over