Page 40 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

Because they did it. Three of them jumped. And for thirty seconds, Booker was alone up there. He scrambled to think of another way down. But there was no other way.

So, he stopped thinking and jumped.

That jerk of his parachute, the familiar glide, the rush of cool air in his T-shirt and shorts.

And then, the violent twist of wind. The ground hurtling at him way too fast.

He’d done it plenty of times before. He knew. He absolutely knew what was about to happen.

The crash. His legs crumpling. The searing, ungodly pain.

“Hey.” A warm hand landed on his thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. “You look like you were watching a horror movie.” Her fingers scraped through his hair.

“We went BASE jumping.”

“The night before you were going to start playing professional hockey, you jumped off a cliff with no parachute?”

“No, there’s a chute. And we knew what we were doing. It wasn’t our first time.” He cleared his throat. “They all had good landings.”

“But you didn’t.” She placed a hand on her chest.

He stared at it, thinking of how many times he’d pushed her away. She was a touchy-feely woman, and he made her feel like he didn’t welcome it. It was just the opposite. He found comfort in her touch. He needed to stop pushing her away.

“I didn’t. About ten seconds before I landed, I hit turbulence. Landed pretty hard. One of the guys raced home and got his truck. They loaded me in it and dropped me at the ER.” He took a moment. Because saying it out loud would sound so bad. “And that was the last time I ever saw them.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Her disbelief held a note of outrage.

He liked that she was offended on his behalf. “Wait, I take that back. I have seen them once. Last year, our coach died, and we saw each other at the funeral. After, we met for a barbecue.” He’d wanted to show them he hadn’t been affected by their abandonment. “But it was bullshit, so I left. My time’s important, and I’m not giving it to them.”

“I mean, were they total, callous assholes? If so, good riddance.”

“No. Remember, the guy who texted us that night quit hockey to stay home to help his family out.”

“Okay, so how could they blow you off like that?”

“I’ll never know why they didn’t bother to check on me in the hospital, but after that? My parents moved us back to New York pretty quickly. They didn’t even put the house on the market before they packed up and left.”

“Can I ask what happened to you?”

“A lot of broken bones. Everything would’ve healed just fine, but it was the calcaneus that ended my shot at hockey.”

“The what?”

“It’s the heel bone. It’s serious because it not only gives you support as you walk, but it connects your calf muscles to your foot. That’s how you push off to take a step forward.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. I had physical therapy for a while, but you never get back your normal foot and ankle motion. I’m fine. I can play sports and work out, but I’ll never have the flexibility or range of motion to play professional sports.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nah. It was my fault.” He smiled because it was true. He didn’t blame his friends for it. “I didn’t follow my instincts. If I had, I never would’ve left home that night. In any event, I went from the hospital to our new place in New York. That’s how quickly we moved.”

“They wanted to get you the best healthcare?”

---