Page 53 of A Thousand Second Chances

“Uh-huh. Nice work. You nailed the practice course.” I meet his grin with one of my own. “Ready for the real thing?”

His smile dimming slightly, he nods and follows me toward the sign marking the start of the beginner course. As we walk, he awkwardly lifts one leg, then the other, tugging on his harness straps.

“You okay?” I ask.

He grimaces, his face flushing. “Riding the zipline like that wasn’t exactly, um…comfortable.”

Ah.I nod, heat coloring my cheeks. My head and heart might know where Percy and I stand, but my body seems to have other ideas, and talking about anything downthereisn’t conducive to staying in the right frame of mind.

We reach the start of the course, and Percy cranes his neck to trace the length of a ladder extending up the side of a tree to a wooden platform built above. “We have to climb upthat?”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”

He seems unconvinced, and without thinking, I reach over to squeeze his shoulder. For once, he doesn’t tense or flinch away, perhaps too distracted by his freak-out. If anything, he leansmoretoward me, and my heart skips a beat. The urge to protect him is almost overwhelming…but so is the urge to coax him out of his shell so he can enjoy himself.

Deciding the best approach is to lead by example, I attach my carabiner to the start of the safety line and step onto the ladder. “Come on,” I call down to him once I’m about halfway up. “Unless you want that family to catch up with us.”

We both glance in unison toward the training area in time to see two kids somehow crash into each other on the zipline, the instructor wearing a resigned expression as he starts untangling their coiled lines.

Percy swallows, facing the ladder with newfound determination. “I’m coming.”

True to his word, he clips onto the safety line and carefully traces my steps. I slow my pace, making sure I never get more than a few rungs ahead. From the grateful looks he gives me, I’m pretty sure he appreciates the gesture.

We reach the top platform without incident, guiding our carabiners through an intersection so they switch to a horizontal line cutting across a wooden bridge to a platform on the other side. I give Percy a grin. “See—not so bad.”

His smile is little more than a grimace. “I suppose. Knowing the line’s there in case I fall helps.” He pauses. “So does having you here.”

Again, that pesky flutter ripples in my chest. Afraid my face might give too much away, I turn toward the bridge. “Ready to tackle the first obstacle?”

“You mean the ladder didn’t count?”

“Fine,secondobstacle then.”

He inhales deeply and rolls his shoulders. “Lead the way.”

So, I do.

It takes a while for Percy to loosen up enough to enjoy himself, but I can see it gradually happening. His smiles grow more genuine, his hesitations and panicked looks less frequent. He stops staring at the ground below in horror and starts tilting his head back to enjoy the breeze on his face or smiling up at the afternoon sun dappling the brilliant autumn leaves.

Occasionally, we hear the shrieks of kids behind us, but we manage to keep ahead of them and don’t run into anyone else on the course. October is well past prime tourist time, but with the sweat of exertion and the sun’s warmth, the chill air proves surprisingly welcome.

The obstacles start out simple enough—full rope bridges with wide planks that make it easy to keep your balance. But as the course progresses, the planks become narrower with wider gaps in between. There are fewer things to hold onto, or otherwrinkles like logs that shift precariously beneath your feet or seesaw back and forth. At one point, I have to coax Percy across a literal tightrope with nothing to help him balance except a pair of wires at shoulder height. That one gave evenmepause.

“Beginner course, my ass,” Percy mutters once he finally steps down from the wire, his whole body trembling with adrenaline. “I thought for sure I was going to fall.”

“Even if you had, the safety line would’ve caught you,” I note.

“Yeah, well, in the moment, it doesn’t feel like it.”

He has a point—safety line or not, there’s a primal sort of terror in feeling your feet slip out over open air. “Fair enough.” I elbow him in the side, grinning. “Admit it, though—you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I suppose this course isn’t theworstthing I’ve ever done,” he says, his lips twitching.

“Wow,” I say dryly. “Such high praise.”

“Hey, you’re lucky to get even that much! You know I’d rather be holed up in my room with a computer.”

“True. I guess I’ll take whatever I can get.” The words settle in me like a mantra as I study him, the afternoon sun turning his messy brown hair golden, his bright blue eyes happier than I’ve seen them since our reunion. For once, he seems to have forgotten about the myriad worries that typically weigh him down.