Page 50 of The Fate Factor

When she drags her nails lightly through my hair, like a dog wanting its belly scratched, I let my head fall into her palm. Something happens inside my chest that I haven’t felt in years. A sensation like falling backwards on a trampoline and riding the momentum back up. It feels so good, and I am so fucking gone.

“Better?” she asks.

“I’ll survive.” My voice is scraped raw with an embarrassing amount of emotion. “Areyouokay?” I ask when I’ve unfolded myself slowly, testing how much air I can pull in without pain.

She gives me the sweetest, guilty smile. “I think maybe I was okay the whole time.”

“Maybe.” I feel drunk as I reach for her ponytail, stroking my fingers through to the curled ends before giving it a quick, teasing squeeze. It’s an indulgent risk, a spread of my cards face up on the table.

But when those big gold eyes meet mine again, wide and a little hazy, just like that, I’m reminded of the high of adrenaline that comes with doing something particularly risky. My blood rushes, and I see it like a flashing neon sign, the same thought that’s been in the back of my head since she came back here: Noel and I were never going to be friends.

She swallows, then shivers. Then because she’s ever responsible, she takes a deep breath through her nose and lets it out slowly, like a silent agreement that whatever we were both thinking would be better to revisit on solid ground.

“Are we going up or down?” I ask, and she pulls her lip between her teeth, looking over the railing. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

Nodding, she turns around and keeps climbing, steady and slow, but determined.

Don’t look at her ass, Bishop. You do not get to look at her ass after that.

We make it to the top landing, and there’s a gooseneck ladder there leading to the roof. Noel glances at it, then back at me. “I’m not going up that.”

“This is high enough, but you have to come to the railing.”

Her back is plastered against the brick wall, arms spread. “My heart is beating out of my chest.”

“That’s how you know it’s worth it. Come on.”

Slowly, she points her toe in front of her, then lets her heel drop. When it doesn’t spontaneously go through the steel, she shifts her weight and takes a step. The landing is maybe four feet wide, so one and a half more and she’ll get the view we came for. I put my hand out, and she eyes it with a teasing smile.

“Why do I feel like you’re Peter Pan convincing me to go to Neverland? Oh, God, does that make me Tinkerbell?”

A laugh bursts from my chest making me clutch my side. “I see the resemblance. You’ve got her nose.”

“Hernose?”

“It’s true. It turns up at the end.” I’d noticed it first thing, how cute her nose was—tipped up and freckled. I even had a recurring daydream of her doing the nose twitch like Samantha fromBewitchedmaking all of my dreams come true. I drop my eyes to the little stud in her nostril, remembering it from that night, how it had flickered in the candlelight, and how I’d felt guilty for liking it that much.

“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “I think that analogy makes you Wendy, but either way, they were both in love with Peter.” I bounce my eyebrows.

One eye roll and a few deep breaths later, she takes my hand. I resist the urge to tug her toward me, instead letting her use me for leverage to do it herself. She finds the courage, putting one foot in front of the other two more times until she’s beside me,and I take her hands and set them firmly on the railing. “See, you’re fine,” I tell her, shifting behind her, locking her in.

“I’m fine.”

“Now look.” I point across the water to where a small lighthouse blinks at us, and I know she’s orienting herself when I feel her nod against my chest. “Look for the fishing shacks.” Another nod. “To the right. There’s the white church. Behind it, you can see that row of pine trees that abuts your road.”

“I see it!”

“Look for the hip roof.”

“Which one is mine?”

I have no idea. They’re a blur of gray from here. But I give my best guess from memory of how many houses she is from the turn off. “Fifth one in?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I think that’s it.”

Her head tips back, resting on my chest, and I feel like I’ve just been given an award. Despite the nagging ache in my side, I think this was my best idea to date.

sixteen

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