Page 62 of Finders Keepers

“Oh, he’s not my—” I start to say, feeling my face heat up again, but Gavin’s already reaching for my phone.

“Your turn to shine, Bailey!”

I step into the wind tunnel, my heart hammering against my ribs. The instructor—Kevin, according to his name tag—gives me a reassuring smile as he adjusts my helmet and goggles.

“Just relax and remember what we covered in training,” he says, his voice barely audible over the sound of the fans powering up. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

The floor beneath me is a mesh grate, and I can feel air already starting to push up through it. My jumpsuit flutters slightly. I glance back at Gavin, who’s watching from behind the glass, holding up my phone. He gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up and mouths something that looks like “You got this!”

Kevin nods at the operator, and suddenly the wind intensifies. My stomach lurches as I feel myself becoming lighter, my feet losing contact with the floor and I instinctively tense up, my arms flailing.

“Relax your body!” Kevin shouts over the roar. “Remember your position!”

I try to focus, to remember the arch position they taught us. Arms bent at the elbows, legs slightly bent, chin up. But my anxiety spikes as I start to wobble in the air current.

“I can’t—I’m going to fall!” I yell, even though there’s nowhere to fall to except back onto the mesh floor.

Kevin moves closer, his hands steadying my shoulders. “You’re doing fine! Just breathe!”

For a moment, I’m not in the wind tunnel anymore. I’m back in that house in Oklahoma, Matt’s hands on me, but not to steady, to hurt. I feel my chest constrict, my vision narrowing.

But then I catch sight of Gavin through the glass. He’s not looking at his phone or chatting with the operator. His eyes are fixed on me, his expression a mix of concern and encouragement. He makes an exaggerated breathing motion, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.

I follow his lead, forcing air into my lungs. In, out. In, out.

And suddenly, I’m floating. Not falling, not flailing, but floating. The sensation shifts from terrifying to… exhilarating. I’m suspended in the air, defying gravity.

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising even myself. I’m flying. Actually flying.

The fans gradually power down, and I feel my feet touch the mesh floor again. My heart’s still racing, but now it’s from excitement rather than fear. I can’t stop smiling as Kevin helps steady me.

“That was incredible!” I exclaim, my voice sounding strange in my ears after all that wind.

“You did fantastic,” he says, giving me a high-five as we exit the chamber. “Especially after that rough start. Most people panic and never get past it, but you found your center.”

Gavin rushes over, his face lit up with enthusiasm. “Bailey, that was amazing! You looked like you were born to fly!”

“I almost chickened out,” I admit, still feeling light-headed and giddy.

“But you didn’t,” he says, his voice warm with admiration. “You pushed through it. That was seriously impressive.”

Kevin nods in agreement. “Your boyfriend’s right. That recovery was textbook perfect.”

Again, neither of us corrects him about the boyfriend comment. Gavin just hands me my phone with a smile.

“I got some great shots,” he says. “Want to see?”

We huddle together, shoulders touching as we swipe through the photos on our phones. There’s Gavin suspended mid-air, arms outstretched like Superman, his face pure joy. Then me, looking terrified at first, but the later pictures show a transformation. My body relaxed, face beaming with delight.

“I love this one,” Gavin says, stopping on a photo where I’m floating perfectly still, arms spread wide, head tilted back slightly, an expression of wonder on my face. “You look so free.”

Free. The word resonates through me. Is that what I felt up there? Freedom?

“Can you send me these?” I ask, suddenly wanting to keep this memory close.

“Already did,” he says with a grin. “Check your texts.”

Sure enough, my phone buzzes with his message containing all the photos.

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