Page 318 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Why do you do it, Em?”

“Do what?” The setting sun plays against the strawberry highlights in her hair and pieces dance in the air like wisps of fire.

“Why do you push the edge?”

“I don’t.” She smiles and takes a step toward me so we’re a few feet apart from each other. Airstrip asphalt stretches all around us, and the excited chatter of the other jumpers coming down from their adrenaline highs turns to background noise.

“What if the chute doesn’t deploy?”

“Then it doesn’t deploy.”

The nonchalance in how she says it pisses me off. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugs, as if it were no big deal. “But we can die at any time. What if I get hit by a car? What if I have a heart attack? What if a meteor falls from the sky and kills me? What if, what if, what if. No use going through life living scared.”

“But jumping increases your risk.”

“Living every day increases my risk.” She laughs, but it’s the look in her eyes that shuts me up. “Look, I could wake up tomorrow with cancer and never get to jump again. I’d rather take the chance, Grant.”

“Em . . .” I know she’s thinking of her mom.

“Look, the probability that something will malfunction is so small that it isn’t worth even thinking about. Besides, I pack all my own gear, and unlike you, I trust what I do.”

I take the jibe because I deserve it, but it doesn’t help me process how casual she is being about this. “If it doesn’t work, no one can save you.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she says as her shoulders straighten, telling me I’ve activated her obstinate defiance. I’m too pissed at how she can be so careless with her own life to care, though.

“Every time you jump, that probability increases. Don’t you think that’s something to consider? It isn’t as if I could do anything standing here on the ground to help.”

“There goes Grant Malone and his hero complex.”

“I saved—” I saved you once, and I’ll save you again in a goddamn heartbeat without thinking twice.

The thought screams in my head, but I stop myself from saying it, from bringing the past into the present. From treating her like the girl she no longer wants to be.

Yet, I remember.

And I wonder.

And I worry.

Just like that fucking case file sitting in my house.

“You saved what?” She grits out the words as she takes another step closer, posture defensive and full of challenge. Sure, she’s angry with me. I’m questioning her, but fuck it, she needs to know I care. Too bad I’m a guy and am not sure how to get that point across without setting off that magnificent and infuriating temper of hers.

“Nothing.”

“I can save myself just fine, Grant Malone. And not just in skydiving. At least in jumping there’s a reserve canopy in case the first one malfunctions. Wouldn’t it be great if life had a backup chute for those moments when you’re falling without anything to catch you?” She shrugs with her hands out to her side.

“And if the backup chute fails?”

“Like I said, life fails all the time. The only way to deal with it is to roll with the punches. Besides, living safely is dangerous. It isn’t good for the soul or the psyche.” She flashes me a huge grin before turning on her heel and saying over her shoulder, “Come on, I’ve gotta close up.”

Standing on the tarmac, I watch her stride toward the office of Blue Skies.

Living safely is dangerous.

Well, shit.