James was all for change.
It took twenty minutes to get to the top, but he beat his and Jason’s best time by at least five minutes. Which hurt like hell. He was standing there at the top, hand pressing against the ache in his chest, when Hannah came up beside him, breathing heavily.
He waited for a smartass comment, not entirely sure he had it in him at the moment to volley back. But she didn’t say anything, wiseass or otherwise. She simply met his gaze. “You okay?” she asked softly.
“It’s you who’s breathing like you just ran a marathon.”
“Yeah, well, desk jockey . . . You going to jump?”
He hesitated, and she turned to face him. “It’s about Jason,” she said softly.
“It just hit me that I’ve never done this without him on one side and you on the other,” he admitted.
“I know.” She reached for his hand. “We’re missing a third of our posse.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re not okay.”
“I’m . . .” He shook his head. “I stayed away so long . . . I think in part to avoid this. Facing it.” He swallowed hard. “The truth is, I’m not quite sure how to be here without him.”
“You do what needs to be done when you’ve got to say goodbye to someone who should still be here.” Grief and sympathy in her warm eyes, still holding his hand, she stepped into him. “You live for him.”
“I’m trying.” He lifted his gaze to hers, not steady on his feet and extremely grateful for her presence as he realized there was no one but Hannah who could’ve gotten through to him in this moment. “But I feel guilty that I’m here and he isn’t.” He shook his head. “I’ve taken so many chances that I’m lucky to still be standing, and all he ever did was live his life to help my dad, and then fight like hell to stay alive for as long as it was physically possible for him to do so. It’s not fair.”
She tightened her grip on his hand and stared right into his eyes, her own sparkly with emotion and a few tears. “I know you miss him more than I can possibly imagine, but he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty that you’re still standing. He’d want you to remember the good times and think of him.”
“I do,” he said fiercely. He looked around. “Do you remember that first time we stood right here? It was our third year on the boat. We were what, maybe fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen?”
She gave a small smile. “I wanted to jump, but I was scared. My dad promised he’d jump with me, but he got busy.”
More like Harry had forgotten his promise to her. This happened a lot with both her parents, a fact that had always pissed him off for her. Jason and his dad had also always included her in everything they’d done. But that had been for only one week of the year. The rest of the time, she’d grown up in an unstable household that no doubt had felt unsafe, watching adults being unkind to one another and not witnessing the best of human behavior.
Which made her generosity and kindness all the more a miracle.
But on the third year of being stood up by the Cap, Jason finally sweet-talked her into joining them up the bluffs. Jason had been good at sweet talk. After promising he’d go first and be there in the water waiting for her, he jumped, and then he had indeed stayed right there in the water, waving up at her.
James had never been much of a sweet talker. When they’d been young, he and Hannah had pushed and dared and challenged each other. But now, with the dubious honor of maturity, he could care less about one-upping her, he just wanted to be with her. Terrifying in its own right.
“We going to jump?” she asked quietly.
“I am. But you don’t have to.”
She looked at the water, as if she wished Jason were waiting for her.
Same, babe. Same.
“You first,” she finally said.
He laughed. “No can do, Hannah Banana. The second I jump, you’ll walk back down.”
“Yes, but that would technically still be meeting you down there,” she said, biting her lower lip, staring down at the water with genuine trepidation.
Watching her, something in him softened. “If you don’t want to jump,” he said, “we’ll both walk down.”
“But you always jump. Every time. That’s what we do.”
“That’s right. That’s what we do.”
She stared at him. “Yeah, but the adult half of this so-called we realizes what a stupid and idiotic tradition that is.” She paused and looked down again. “I don’t remember this being so scary.”
“Hannah.” He squeezed her hand. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes we do. Jason might be watching. Besides, I want to.”
“Really? Because you look like you’re going to throw up.”
“I always feel this way before I jump,” she said. “It’s just been a long time. And . . .” She took another peek over the edge and swallowed hard. “I mean, shouldn’t things look smaller when you’re older? Does this cliff seem higher and bigger to you? And the waterline far lower? Global warming, right?”
He laughed and felt some of the weight lift off his chest. “It’s called fear. It’s okay, Hannah, seriously. We don’t have to do this.”
“We’re doing this.”
He knew that stubborn tone and that equally stubborn set of her chin. There’d be no turning back now. “Fine,” he said, “then we do it together.”
Staring at him, she nodded.
So they jumped.
Or more accurately, he jumped and she came along with him, since he was still holding her hand. And then they were flying through the air together, she screaming at the top of her lungs, the sun making her anklet glow, he feeling a ridiculous carefree grin cross his face for the first time in far too long.
Chapter Five
HANNAH STOPPED screaming to suck in a lungful of air just before she and James hit the water. When she broke the surface, she was thrilled to find herself not dead. “Oh my god. We lived.”
James, who’d surfaced at her side, laughed, looking far lighter and freer than he had at the top of the bluff.
Her heart ached for him, deeply. He and Jason had been inseparable. For her, losing Jason had felt like the hacking off of a limb, so she couldn’t even fathom the pain James felt. “You didn’t have to hold my hand,” she said, treading water. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“Maybe I felt like one again.”
She could tell he wasn’t kidding, and that reached right into her chest and squeezed her heart. They were still treading water and staring at each other when a big swell nudged them together. His hands gripped her waist to keep her with him, their legs brushing together as he kicked to keep them afloat.
“Is this really your first time back here?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He gave a small smile. “I’ve seen nearly every stretch of beach on the planet, but not this one, not since . . .”
“I know,” she whispered, shifting closer without thought. Their thighs bumped again. Their chests too, so he tightened his grip, holding her against him.
“What made you come back this year?” she asked, her hands going to his shoulders. “Why now?”