Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Baird stroked my back as he kissed me.
I finally let him up for air. “I did it!”
“I saw that, beautiful.”
“It was amazing!”
“Aye? Now I can’t wait.” He stared into my eyes, his so full of tenderness and affection that I could feel the words, those three words, bubbling toward my tongue.
“We’re ready for you now, Baird.” The instructor spoke before I could.
Reality returned, and I realized what a giant mistake it would be admitting my feelings to Baird in such a public way. My truth wasn’t for anyone else. Only him.
I dropped my legs from around his waist and lowered to my feet.
“You’ve got a lot of energy after that.” Baird eyed me suggestively.
“Not going to lie, the pressure on the head is a little …” I shook my hand at him, grimacing. “But otherwise, aye, I have lots of energy. To expel. Lots and lots and lots.”
He bent his head to whisper in my ear, “I’ll collect later on that surplus.”
Chuckling, I nodded and then watched with anticipation as they buckled him into a harness and Gail handed him his camera helmet. My legs were still shaking with fear and adrenaline and joy, and I had to hold on to the platform railing.
“Ready.” The instructor patted Baird on the back.
He winked cockily at me and dove off with no hesitation, yelling, “Oi! Oi!”
Of course he did.
I collapsed into giggles as his trademark greeting was cut off by the wind and I watched his large body jerk back upward.
Though it was hard to hear over the river, I was pretty certain he didn’t yell or whoop, which was surprising because Baird was an extrovert who let his experiences all hang out. When they pulled him back up, his face was flushed, and he shook his head. “Naw. No thanks. Never again.”
“No?” I gaped, taken aback. Baird usually enjoyed his thrill-seeking exploits.
“It was the tug back upward and down like a yo-yo. Didnae like that.” His accent thickened. “Didnae like it at all. Skydiving. There’s none of that in skydiving. We shoulda done that.”
His fingers trembled as he unbuckled the helmet to hand it off to Gail and my heart melted. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and hold him until he stopped shaking. He was such a big guy that it was disconcerting to see him like that. Just like it was when I visited him after his injury. I’d hated every second of seeing him felled, even if it was temporary. Hell, I was so in denial even then about my feelings for him.
“We can go skydiving,” I offered, trying to distract him.
“Aye?”
“I mean, not today. But definitely, yes.”
Freed from the harness, Baird stumbled a bit, and I hurried to him, worry chilling my happiness as his face turned chalk white. “Baird?”
His eyes looked a bit glazed and he swayed, his breathing sounding tight.
I whipped my head toward the camera. “Off. Camera off. Now.”
Thankfully, the cameraman lowered the equipment as I turned back to Baird. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
He shook his head, his grip on me tightening.
I led him quickly off the platform, frightened by how much he seemed to need to lean on me. Fury ripped through me as a camerawoman stepped into our path. “Switch that off! You do not have permission to film this.” I caught sight of Bruno. “No filming!”
Bruno glanced between us. “What happened? Does he need help?”
“No, My, no.” He shook against me. “Just need … privacy.” He gritted out.
“We need to be alone.” I shooed them away, glad Pennington’s had paid to close the bungee jumping attraction for the morning so there was no one else around but staff.
Finally, Baird seemed to relax as we reached the end of the trail that led to the car park. He slumped to his arse so suddenly, I thought he was passing out.
“Baird.” I dropped to my knees.
He waved a weary hand at me in reassurance.
“What happened?” I smoothed a hand over his bent knee.
“I … I had the thought a few seconds after I jumped. When you mentioned the pressure on your head, it hit me that maybe this was a bad idea for me.”
Oh God. Oh heck. Why didn’t I think about that? His injury. I squeezed his knee.
“It’s probably fine.” His voice was rough. “But once I felt the pressure, I started to panic down there and every time I yo-yoed, the pressure felt worse. By the time I got back up …”
“The lightheadedness is anxiety,” I realized.
Baird looked embarrassed but nodded. “Aye.”
“You know that’s totally normal, right?” I pushed against him, gently turning his face to meet my eyes. “Baird, you suffered a traumatic head injury. You nearly died. The fracture might have healed, but the mental fractures from a near-death experience … those take much longer to heal. There’s no shame in that.”