When I’m satisfied, I hand her the blindfold. “Your turn, little one.”
“Let’s just get this over with.” She tries to swipe it from my hand.
I pull away. “Let me put it on for you.”
She tries to take it from my hands again. “No. I can do it on my own.”
Is that how you’ve been going through life since I’ve been gone?
Her tone is dismissive, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t retreat. She just stands there, watching me like she’s testing how much I’ll push.
I give in, handing her the blindfold. “Suit yourself.”
Switching positions, I come down to ground level as she settles into position.
I watch intently as she raises the blindfold to her face and over her eyes. It changes her expression instantly. When her eyes are covered, the sharpness in her expression disappears. Her breathing shifts subtly. Her lips part slightly.
She looks so vulnerable. Hell, yes!
“As a reminder to everyone, no touching your partner once the challenge continues,” Miranda states. “And if one or both of you falls, you both will be out of the running to win this challenge.”
Feeling satisfied that the harness has her secured, I step back and off the set of stairs.
When the whistle sounds again, Lyla grips the ropes on either side of her, seemingly frozen in fear. “I-I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can, just relax and follow my voice.”
“Relax? Yeah right.”
“There are three wooden planks ahead of you,” I explain with careful detail. “Each are about a few inches apart. They’re stable. Take a step for me.”
She swallows, remains frozen in place.
“Lyla, just walk straight steps for me. I’m not going to let you fall, little one.”
“How can I trust that?”
“Think about it. Why would I let you fall?”
She sighs and hangs her head. Then, as if she’s contemplating on what to do, she takes a step. The tip of her left foot taps on the first plank, like she’s trying to feel where it is, before she settles her entire foot on it. Then she repeats that with her right foot on the next plank.
Maybe my adrenaline is spiking, or maybe I don’t like her up there, but the ocean seems louder now, wind pushing salt air up the cliff face. Her hand shakes toward where the rope railing should be but stops short.
“Oh, my god. Oh, god.” She begins to panic.
Without thinking, I rush toward her. But I’m stopped at the sound of Miranda reminding me of the rule.
Fuck.
I glare at her, then look back to Lyla.
“Something’s wrong,” Lyla panics again. “I can’t feel anything under my foot.” She hovers the tip of her sneaker over a gap in the rope.
“Move your foot two inches to your left,” I instruct.
Nodding, she eventually finds the plank, sighing in relief.
“Good girl. Now, keep your shoulders square.”
