Gage huffs out a laugh. “You say that like you do this every weekend.”
“I would if I could,” I shoot back.
Rafe’s mouth curves slightly, eyes still on me. “You didn’t hesitate.”
“Of course I didn’t,” I say, lifting my chin. “I had two grown men dragging me off a cliff. What was I supposed to do, fight you?”
“You could’ve tried,” Gage says.
I glance between them, then grin wider. “As if I couldn’t dragyoubothoff the cliff.”
“We’d let you,” Gage corrects with a grin.
Their attention stays on my face, and heat curls low in my stomach, sharp and familiar, but I shove it aside before it can take root.
I jerk my chin toward the rocks. “You ready to go again?”
“Already?” Gage asks.
“Don’t tell me you’re tired.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close.”
“I’ll stay and spot for whoever jumps next,” Rafe says.
It’s one of our rules when we jump: never jump alone. And if you are, someone should be in the water, just in case something goes really wrong.
Gage and I swim toward the edge. We don’t talk as we pull ourselves up onto the lower rocks. Water sluices down my body, turning everything slippery. It doesn’t take too long for me to find my footing, the climb back up familiar enough that my body falls into it without much thought.
By the time we reach the top again, my pulse is still racing, my skin still buzzing from the jump.
Cruz and Bishop are exactly where we left them. Waiting and watching.
I brush my hands off on my thighs, lifting my gaze toward them as a slow smile pulls at my mouth.
“Alright. You ready, brother?” Gage asks Cruz. “You don’t really have to jump, man.”
Cruz steps up to the edge. “Just waiting on you.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “Try not to miss me too much, Bells.”
Cruz and Gage go over the edge in quick succession, their bodies disappearing cleanly into open air before the sound of the water follows a second later.
And then it’s just us.
I don’t look at Bishop right away. I let the silence sit for a second, let it stretch just enough to feel intentional before I turn my head.
He’s still standing there like he hasn’t moved an inch since we got here, arms loose at his sides now, gaze fixed somewhere out over the water.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”
He doesn’t look at me. “What?”
“Something happens between us,” I say, “and then you just… don’t talk to me?”
His eyes cut to mine, sharp and immediate. “I’m talking to you right now.”
“Barely,” I scoff. I take a step closer, not enough to crowd him, just enough to close the space. “Listen,” I say, quieter now, “we?—”
“Nothing happened,” he cuts me off.
