The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,131

worse.

After a moment I add, “But, Luke, I think more than anything, bigger than me, bigger than us, you need to find yourself again, find your way again and your peace with Landon’s death, before anything else.”

He glances over but doesn’t meet my gaze. He knows that I’m right.

“Y’know,” he says, “I would say that I shouldn’t have let it go this far, this thing between us, but I don’t regret a moment of it. Maybe I’m being selfish again, but even though I knew the day I met you that it probably wouldn’t work out, I don’t regret taking it as far as we did.”

I smile softly. “Neither do I.” I reach over and take his hand. “You did something for me that no one has ever come close to doing—my fear of heights, of course, but you did more than just try to help me overcome it. You helped me see everything else with a whole new perspective: my career; my family and financial priorities; my future.” I pause and look off at the wall. His fingers slip between mine, over the top of my hand.

“Landon may have been good, like you said,” I say, meeting his eyes, “but something tells me he learned it from you. Little brothers always look up to their big brothers.”

I stand up and step in between his legs. He gazes up at me and takes both of my hands into his.

“I want you to promise me something,” I say.

A brief moment of quiet passes between us.

“Anything,” he says, tugging on my fingers.

“When you go to Norway, before your feet leave that rock, promise me, Luke, that it’ll be for the right reasons.”

“The right reasons?” he asks, confused.

“Yes,” I say softly. “Luke, you can’t do something like this, take such a risk with your life, unless it’s for the right reasons. You can’t go through with this if you’re only doing it because you feel guilty, or because you’re holding on to”—I pause and take a deep, uneasy breath—“holding on to something you had with Landon that’s no longer there.” Mentally I hold my breath, hoping that my words don’t hurt him and that he won’t take offense to them.

For a split second, I see his jaw harden and a flash of pain shoot across his eyes. But he recovers quickly and pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head against my stomach. I spear my fingers through the top of his hair.

Then he raises his head and answers, “Yeah … I am doing it for the right reasons,” and that’s all the answer he gives.

Disappointment, thick and heavy, floods me. My shoulders fall with my breath, my heart with my hopes.

I want to believe that he’s lying to himself—I want to believe that I’m right—but if he won’t, or can’t, admit it to himself, then he can’t admit it to me. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m too blinded by my feelings for him and wanting nothing to stand between us being together, and he really and truly loves this dangerous sport. But if that’s the case, if that’s the truth, then I can’t stand in his way.

And I can’t stay with him, either.

I could never in a million years ask him to give up something that makes him feel alive and free. It would be the same as him asking me to give up photography.

“You know I have to do this, Sienna, don’t you?”

I nod, holding back my protest.

“And you know I’ll be OK, right?”

I don’t answer—he can see the answer in my teary eyes.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, so don’t worry about me.”

“I will always worry, Luke. Nothing you can ever say will ease my fears or change my thoughts on this.”

He sighs and then stands up from the bed with my hands still in his and he smiles. “Sienna, you have to know that you’re important to me.” His hands grip mine more firmly with emphasis. “I never imagined I’d meet someone like you. I want you to be a part of my life. I want to share everything with you. Look, I understand completely why you can’t put yourself through this. But I know what I’m doing. I’m careful. I’m precise. And although I know there’s truly no such thing as a safe jump, I minimize all the risks by taking the safety measures that I take.”

“But you could die doing this, Luke. At the end of the day, safety measures or