Page 87 of The Comeback Summer

I exhale in relief. “Yes, please.”

He flashes a grin, then he’s off, leaping up and landing on the wall. When he’s halfway across, I walk up to the edge, subtly measuring myself against the width. I’m relieved to see it’s not quite as narrow as it looks from a distance.

When Adam comes back, a little out of breath, with sweat glistening on his brow, I position myself at the starting point, then take off in a sprint toward the trampoline.

But I accidentally slow to a stop before I get there. My heart is pounding with fear and I freeze.

“Just try again,” Adam says behind me, as if it’s that easy.

As I retrace my steps, I imagine a world where it is that easy. Where I don’t let hard things get the best of me. I can do this.

And I do. I run, getting faster as I approach the trampoline, but the second before I should be jumping—I stop.

I expect Adam to look disappointed when I turn around, but there’s no judgment in his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I tell him.

“I do,” he says.

My heart sinks and I avert my eyes. I’ve gotten a lot stronger in the last six weeks, but I don’t have enough strength to look Adam in the eye when he tells me all the things he thinks are wrong with me.

“You’ve got to shake the lead out,” he says, and I look up, confused. His expression is so kind, I unexpectedly feel tears prick my eyes.

“It’s something an old coach of mine said when he knew I could go faster,” he continues. “The ‘lead’ is all the things you’re carrying—you’ve got to shake them off, let go of anything holding you back. Just run and jump and fly.”

“Run and jump and fly,” I say, echoing him.

“But first you’ve got to shake the lead out,” he says, and he demonstrates—shaking his hands and legs like an Olympic swimmer getting ready for a race. He manages to look cute even when he’s acting ridiculous. “Come on,” he says, his voice gently teasing. “Don’t let me look stupid all by myself.”

He ducks his head to meet my eyes and gives me the warmest, most encouraging smile, lighting me up from the inside.

I join him, shaking my arms and my legs like a lunatic. I imagine all the things I’m shaking off. The insecurity, the doubt, the fear—all tossed to the side, leaving me lighter and ready to fly.

“Ready to give it another go?” Adam asks.

“Ready,” I say as I move into position, feeling determined.

This time, I start running and I don’t stop. My feet hit the trampoline and I’m up in the air, propelling myself into thecrevice of the wall. I catch myself, not quite as high as Adam got, but a good foot off the ground.

Just like he said, it’s instinctual; my body seems to know where to put my hands and how to move my feet, one foot forward at a time as I make my way through the obstacle.

“You did it!” Adam says, as I come out the other side. He’s there waiting for me and wraps me in a big hug. I resist for half a second, but when I realize he’s just as sweaty as I am, I relax and allow myself to be held.

I close my eyes and savor the sensation of his arms around me, warm and solid and comforting. The feeling is both foreign and familiar, and my eyes well with tears as I realize it’s been years since someone who wasn’t Hannah hugged me.

“Want to do it again?” Adam asks as he pulls back from our sweaty embrace.

“Hell no,” I say, wiping what could either be sweat or tears from the corner of my eye. “But thanks for helping me get up there.”

“Anytime,” he says, bumping his shoulder against mine. He keeps it there for a second, and I can’t tell if the gesture is flirty, or bro-y.

“I think we’ve done everything except...” His voice trails off as he looks toward the mother of all Ninja challenges. A man with huge muscles is currently on the contraption, grunting as he moves himself up a ladderlike object five feet off the ground. It’s like he’s building the monkey bars as he’s climbing across them.

My eyes go wide.

“Or...” he says, drawing out the word, “we could go get a drink?”

“Now you’re talking.”

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