Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,53

great. I’ve done a tandem jump before. It’s wild.”

Of course he has.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Listen, you get married and women don’t let you do this shit. Come on.” Together we walk through the parking lot toward the sky-diving school, and my heart races. I like to be in control; tandem jumping means someone else is in control…and I’m strapped to them.

And they’re touching me. At a great altitude.

Hell.

I’ve been as high up as 15,000 feet in my sailplane, and 20,000 feet in Charlie Tango. But then I was seated and piloting an aircraft that could fly. Leaping out of a plane? Into the sky? At height?

Never.

Shit.

But I cannot, simply cannot, wimp out in front of Elliot. I swallow my apprehension as we enter the building.

My brother has booked us an exclusive jump. After a short informative video, we sit through a briefing with Ben, our instructor, and I’m grateful that it’s just Elliot and me in the class. I was coached on how to use a parachute as part of my glider training, but I’ve never actually done a jump. While Ben is explaining what we need to do and what to expect, it occurs to me that I haven’t provided this training for Ana. She needs to do this before she goes up in ASH 30 again.

When Ben, who looks younger than me, has completed our instruction, he hands us each a waiver. Elliot signs it immediately, while I read through. My anxiety begins to climb, settling in my stomach. I am about to jump out of an aircraft from a high altitude.

Deep breath, Grey.

I realize that if something were to happen to me, Ana would be left with nothing.

To hell with that.

Once I’ve signed the form, on the back I write:

This is my last will and testament. In the event of my death I leave all my worldly goods to my beloved fiancée, Anastasia Steele, to be dispensed with as she sees fit.

Signed: Christian Grey

Date: 07/23/2011

I take a quick photo with my phone and zap it to Ros, before handing the signed waiver back to Ben, who laughs.

“You’ll be fine, Christian.”

“Just preparing for all eventualities.” I give him a quick, forced smile.

He laughs again. “Okay. Let’s get you suited up.”

We leave the building and head across the tarmac to an open-air hangar where all the safety gear is located: chutes, helmets, and harnesses.

I’m detecting a theme.

Elliot swaggers to the hangar as if he doesn’t have a care in the world; it’s infuriating, and right now I envy him more than ever. Ben hands us each a jumpsuit.

Literally. A. Jumpsuit.

Whoa!

“Hey, hotshot. More kinky shit!” Elliot crows as he pulls the safety harness over his attire.

I roll my eyes and turn to Ben. “I apologize for Elliot. He only speaks asshole.”

“You two related?” Ben asks.

Elliot and I exchange a look. Yes. But no. But yes.

“Brothers,” Elliot responds, looking at me, and we both break into that secret smile that adopted siblings share. Ben knows he’s missing something, but says nothing and helps first Elliot, then me, into our harnesses.

It’s decided that I will tandem-jump with Ben, and we’re joined by Matt, who will tandem-jump with Elliot. Another instructor, Sandra, tags along, complete with a GoPro to film the whole escapade.

“Hi,” Matt says as he shakes our hands. “Special occasion?”

“My brother’s bachelor party. He’s experiencing the last gasp of freedom,” Elliot says.

“Congratulations,” Matt says.

“Thanks,” I mutter dryly. “This is a surprise.”

“Good surprise?”

“Jury’s out.”

Matt laughs. “You’ll love it. Let’s go, pilot’s ready.”

The five of us make our way across the runway to the waiting single-engine Cessna.

Last chance to change your mind, Grey.

There are only two seats at the front of the plane, behind the pilot. But Matt and Ben sit down on the floor and motion for us to sit in front of them. We comply and they start the process of buckling us onto their harnesses. As his hands move over the straps, I realize that I’m not unnerved by the physical contact with Ben; he’ll have my life in his hands.

“You flown before?” he asks, raising his voice above the sound of the engine.

“I’m a qualified commercial pilot,” I respond. “Rotorcraft. And I have a couple of sailplanes.”

“This’ll be easy for you.”

My laugh is hollow.

Yeah. No. I’m a pilot for a reason.

I’m in control.

I take a deep breath as the plane leaves the runway and begins its ascent. Snohomish Valley falls away as we climb higher and higher into the cloudless sky.

Matt and Elliot are talking crap. Ben joins in.