He bobs his head, and we get a condensed safety briefing while I’m gearing Mia up, triple-checking every strap before I get my gear on.
I’m buzzing, and it has nothing to do with skydiving. I’ve completed my fair share of jumps, but now that I have Mia with me, it’ll be something else.
“I’m scared,” she says when the first plane lands. “My heart is going so fast.”
I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tipping her head back. “Don’t think ahead. All you have to do is trust me that I’ll get you back down safely. I’ve done this plenty of times. I’ve got you.”
The instructor runs to the cockpit, waving us over.
“Red,” I say, clutching Mia’s hand. “That’s your safe word. Unless you sayred, we’re taking the fast way down. I don’t care if you hit me, puke, or cry. I don’t care if you scream or beg. I’ll slap your pretty butt if you bite, but I won’t listen until you sayred, understood?”
“Keep talking, okay? Anything, just talk.”
I halt, catch her jaw, and turn her head my way. “What did I just tell you?”
“That you’ll spank me,” she utters, cheeks rosy.
“You make it damn near impossible not to when you blush like that. What’s your safe word?”
“Um...” She looks around, biting her lip. “Red.”
“Good girl. Use it if you have to.”
Half a minute later, we’re on the plane. I sit Mia between my legs for take-off, my arms around her even before the instructor straps the pretty little blonde to my harness.
Nothing ever felt as naturalasholding her close.
“Talk,” she pleads, wiggling her fingers like she’s typing a long essay. “Please, just talk.”
And so I do.
I talk all the time.
I tell her I expect she’ll play one song for me at the Ball and that I want a dance. I tell her I know her dad, and that he sent me VIP tickets for the Austin GP in September. It’s a given Mia will be attending, so I promise to drive her there since she’s afraid of flying. I’d fucking carry her there on my back just to spend time with her.
Her pulse accelerates along with the plane, reaching its limit when we start ascending. I knot our fingers, wrapping our arms around her tiny frame.
“The first time I jumped, I was twenty-four. Nothing compares to the first jump, so take in the views.”
“Sixty seconds!” the pilot shouts.
“I’m scared,” Mia wails, clutching my fingers hard enough to cut off circulation. “I changed my mind. I want to go back! Please, I don’t want to do this anymore! I feel sick. OhGod! Yellow! Orange! Please, I’ll do anything you want, just—”
“The word isred, and you’re doing great. Don’t think.” I haul us up, gripping the handle. “Close your eyes, Mia. Breathe in for me.”
I can’t see if she followed the first instruction, but she’s definitely breathing.
She’s fucking hyperventilating.
“Please, we don’t have to do this! It’s so far down. What if the parachute doesn’t open? What if we crash? What if...” She chokes on the words.
My arm curves around her middle. “We won’t crash. The parachute will open, and you’ll love this. I promise.”
“Thirty seconds!” The instructor opens the door, and Mia starts trembling so hard I wonder if she’s crying.
Still, nored.
“You’re such a good girl,” I say in her ear, leaving a kiss there. “Breathe. Don’t think. You’re safe with me.”
