The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,335

by a pair of warm hands cuffing my forearms in a comforting but firm grip.

“Hey,” his voice is deep and melodious, but my nerves are skittish, and I just want to get off.

“It’s dangerous,” I offer my feeble explanation to the dark grey cotton stretched across his chest. I can’t meet his eyes. I’m afraid of the disappointment I might see there. It’s clear that he’s a born adventurer who only needed a small push to discover that. And here I am, having another meltdown.

Stone leans down and presses his lips to my ear. “You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to. You aren’t a coward if you change your mind. But maybe this is your chance to rewrite your own history. Prove that the story you’ve been telling yourself about what you’re capable of is incomplete. Fear doesn’t rule you, Regan.” I lift my gaze to his.

His eyes are a calming swirl of molten dark earthy brown, flecked with gold that have a look of such certainty in them that even before he starts speaking, my anxiety slows down. I’m safe.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you.”

He laughs. “I’ll hold you to it.” He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around to face the door again.

I’m actually going to do this. Buoyed by the first real flare of exhilaration I’ve felt since we got in the Gondola to ride up, I walk over and get strapped up.

The patient instructor makes quick work of putting me in my harnesses and binding my ankles. He shows me all of the safety protocols and explains each of the ropes, and clasps as he fastens them. “No one will push you and you can’t just fall out; you have to jump.”

“Leap of faith, Goddess,” Stone calls, clapping like a sports fan getting worked up as his team takes the field.

I turn around, press my fingers to my lips and raise them in the air in a salute of solidarity and a wish for good luck. Stone lifts his hand, palm open. “I’m pretending you blew me a kiss.” He mimes catching it and pressing the closed fist to his chest.

I burst out laughing. The door creaks open and I know it’s time. But when I turn to face them, it’s giddiness, not fear, causing a riot in my heart.

“You’re all set. Don’t close your eyes on the way down. The view is part of the experience,” the instructor says as I line my toes up to the edge of the door.

I’ve been so afraid of dying, of failing, of being alone that I haven’t taken a risk in ten years. While I was busy being careful, the whole world passed me by. This feels like making up for it all at once.

The countdown begins, and I clear my mind. When they get to 1, I launch myself off the gondola, and the world rushes up to embrace me. Is this what it’s like for newborn babies taking their first breaths?

The thumping pulse of my steadily increasing heart rate becomes one with the wild symphony of rushing water, bird calls, and the roaring wind. I fall and fall; it’s a smooth weightless plummet. And yet, I could swear I’m flying.

And then, it’s over. I bounce a few times as the cord loses velocity. I stretch my arms wide, letting the breeze rush through my splayed fingers, as I take in the swaying palm trees, the lazy lapping river, and the seemingly endless stretch of stone that I’ll remember as the place of my rebirth.

I close my eyes on the way up and savor the exhilarating fullness of triumph. I’ve only had a glimpse of the glory waiting for me on the other side of my fear, and I’m already ravenous for more. The rush of pure adrenaline is instantly addicting. I want to do this all day so I can hold onto the euphoria and pride, I’m feeling. Stone was right. If I can do this, I can do anything. Including divorcing my terrible husband.

The sample-sized bites of happiness I’ve survived on won’t satisfy this new hunger.

I want everything.

Now.

Starting with Stone.

The instructors pull me back on to the gondola and give me a round of high fives as I crest the opening. Two of the crew members help me climb back on and for a minute, I just sit, catching my breath.

“Come on, let’s get that off,” Stone’s big hand cup my elbows and he helps me to my feet. As