“Good to scare yourself a little every day, I think.”
My gaze locked on hers, that haunted, sad cloud still hovering just beyond the sarcasm. “Scared doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
I shielded my eyes from the unforgiving sun, guessing it wasn’t even noon yet. “That’s a lot of excitement so early on a Sunday morning. Mind if we take a breather while you tell me the real reason you threw yourself like a rag doll off the highest bridge in Chickasaw Ridge?”
She slumped into a sopping wet pile next to me. “Grew up swimmin’ here, and really, it’s not as high as it looks. If you throw yourself off the Whiskey River Bridge expectin’ to meet God, you’d better have the right spot scoped out. You can see clear through to the bottom in most parts. I’ve jumped off all the bridges on the Whiskey River.”
I had to suppress a groan. “Of course you have.”
“What’s that mean?” She pulled out a stick of gum, offered it to me, then popped it in her mouth when I refused.
“I hate to think of what’s next if it takes jumpin’ bridges to thrill you now at…how old are you?”
She stopped chewing the gum, expressive eyes leveled on mine. “Nunya.”
“Are conversations with you always this…informative?”
She grinned, chewed the gum, and then twisted the end around her ring finger, stretching the goo and then snapping it back into her mouth. “Only with strangers.”
“Interesting. Even strangers who save your life?”
“News flash, dude. Didn’t need saving.” She inched closer to the ledge, dipping one red-painted toe in the dark water.
“But I was willin’ to. And let’s not forget you told me your name before you launched over like a bat out of hell.” I shrugged. “Thought that meant we were friends. Which, you see, obligated me to go in after you.”
She ticked her head to the side, lips curving. “Fine.” She slugged me in the bicep. “I’ll give you that one.”
I suppressed the urge to eye roll before she turned back to the murky water. “Hope we don’t get a flesh-eating disease out of that muddy cesspool.”
Augusta Belle’s laughter carried on the wind, leaves rustling around us before the sun ducked behind a cloud, casting a chill. She shivered, running her palms up her tiny upper arms.
“We should go get changed. I can walk you home if you want.” I held out a hand.
She glanced at my outstretched palm, licks of dark ink peeking out from under my sleeve. Her eyes closed for a breath before they landed back on the water again, and she shook her head. “I’m good here. The sun will be back.”
I dropped my hand, studying her profile, wondering again what brought a girl like her up here.
Maybe I was wrong, maybe she hadn’t exactly been plannin’ on killin’ herself, so she said anyway. But that didn’t shake the cloud of sadness that cast a shadow in those pretty eyes.
“Gonna make me stay here all day and babysit you from jumping back in that river?” I teased, dipping my toes in alongside her.
“Babysit?” She cast me a sideways glare. “Hardly. But you are welcome to hang out. It just so happens I think you’re worthy of my company because, y’know, you tried to save me and all. Figure we were meant to be friends.”
“That so?”
She nodded without glancing at me. “No one ever goes up on that bridge since the Tallahatchie was built. That’s why I picked it.” Her honey-brown irises lingered on mine. “While everyone was singin’ in church, sending their praise above, I was supposed to be floatin’ in that river. But I’m not. You know why? Because of you, Fallon Gentry. Of all the days, of all the moments, you showed up in my life.”
She wrapped her tiny fingers around my wrist and tugged me a little closer to her.
I huffed, pretendin’ she wasn’t havin’ the effect on me she did. “I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Augusta Belle Branson.”
FOUR
Fallon
A woodpecker hammering at the inside of my head finally had my eyes fluttering to life.
I pushed a hand over my face, taste of whiskey still on my breath as bolts of violent sunlight streaked my eyelids.
