Page 82 of Worth the Fall

“Still traumatized after going on the Ferris wheel, I see,” I say, suddenly remembering him screaming to get down and trying not to cry as he clung to his mom sitting between us. The sour look on his face says he isn’t thrilled I remember.

“Nice try, but I’m not biting. I hate the feeling of falling, and let’s not forget the whole possibility of dying aspect.”

“See? That’s a huge misconception. There is no feeling of falling when you jump. Not one bit.” I offer a huge grin.

“Not buying it.”

“Don’t you trust me, Malone?” I stand there with my hands on my hips, my head angled to the side, and my eyes issuing a challenge to that manly ego of his.

“No.” There’s no waffling in his voice when he says it, and while I should be offended, I’m not in the least.

“Oh, c’mon.”

“Sorry, Em. Trust isn’t going to save me when I’m hurtling to the earth at a million miles an hour and my parachute fails to open.”

“Pfft. Such dramatics.” I roll my eyes but smile when I realize he really is petrified of the idea. It’s in the shift of his feet and the sudden shaking of his head as if he’s physically rejecting the idea every time it gets brought up.

It takes a lot to overcome that kind of fear.

I should know.

“Dramatics? Life and death,” he says as he pretends his hands are scales weighing each one. In his scenario, death wins. “I’ll stay here and watch with my feet planted firmly on the ground.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrug as I slip my arms into the sleeves of my flight suit and zip it up over my red tank top. “You’re gonna miss one hell of a ride.”

“I know somewhere else I can get a ride,” he murmurs suggestively as I walk past him and laugh.

“Head up. Wings out,” I say.