Page 6 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
I run through my mental checklist. Finish. Then begin it again as the rush of cold air dances around me and whips against my cheeks. My earplugs shift as I slide my jaw out of habit to equalize the pressure in my ears.
I glance over to where Leo is double-checking his own gear. “Head up. Wings out!” I shout over the roar. He gives me a thumbs-up, and with that, I loosen my grip on the door and dive headfirst.
My breath catches. My blood is flooded with adrenaline. My body spirals and hurtles and tumbles in a seemingly endless free fall.
But there is silence in my head. Peace. A bliss I can’t find anywhere else as I gain control of my dive, stabilize, and master the arch of my body. The ocean in the distance and the rolling green hills of northern California laid out like a topography map beneath me are as stunning as the first time I saw them like this.
There are no demands from Chris and his bank.
There are no duties left to fulfill for Travis before I can call it a night.
There are no thoughts of Grant Malone and those brown eyes of his that met mine yesterday and surprised the hell out of me.
There are no demons from my past—the ones seeing him again brought out of hiding—trying to weasel their way in.
It’s freedom.
It’s just me hurtling toward the earth at what feels like a million miles an hour in what could be certain death.
It’s my hand deploying the ripcord and my body jolting against the force before rebounding up as the parachute opens and saves me from that death.
Yanking me back to reality.
My parachute.
Saving me.
Grant Malone.
Saved me.
Stop it, Em. Don’t think about him.
Look at the fields sprawled out.
I knew it was bound to happen when I moved back here.
At the waves crashing against the cliffs beyond.
He is from before. I’m only about the now.
At the cars on the highway in the distance that look like ants crawling home in the early evening light.
I close my eyes, hating that I’m missing a single moment of my descent, but I use the moment to refocus my thoughts and shift gears.
With another slide of my jaw to re-equalize the pressure in my ears, I open my eyes and force myself to admire the beauty of it all.
After a bit, sometime between the lull of the gliding and the serenity of the silence, I’m able to shut the world out and do just that. Enjoy the moment that will surely dissipate the minute my feet hit the ground.
I think about what I’ll do with this place once Blue Skies becomes mine. Fresh paint on the sign. New marketing to tourists and locals. Convert the empty hangar into a clubhouse of sorts to entice the adrenaline junkies to stay longer and spend more money.
I have to get the loan first. Then I can dream.
My mental checklist begins again. The one I use to make sure I don’t neglect a single thing. It’s too easy to become comfortable when jumping out of an airplane day after day, so I use the repetition as my safety net.
My lone leash to sanity.
Plus it helps me to forget about Grant.
