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Joyce persisted, waving her down again, but Maisie folded her arms, willing her organs to work the way they were supposed to, not the way they were—trying to betray her at every turn.

“I can’t,” Maisie called down to them.

The women nodded, though they looked slightly disappointed as they joined the line, taking turns holding Trifle on the mainland as they rotated walking across the bridge themselves.

Regret clung to Maisie’s spirit, slicing through her decisions until she had no other leg to stand on, but she forced herself to remain steadfast. She just couldn’t join them. She couldn’t.

But as she watched more and more people cross the rope bridge, the words stood out to her.

She couldn’t.

Hadn’t she told herself that same thing five hundred times that morning?

She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t.

She sounded like a broken record. A scared, broken record.

She sounded…like a woman making excuses. And she was tired of it.

Wasn’t that what her whole problem was with her life—where all of her frustrations came into play? She couldn’t have kids without a spouse. She couldn’t get married without falling in love. She couldn’t fall in love if she spent all her time with Daphne. She couldn’t find anyone she wanted to date until Finn, and now, she couldn’t date Finn.

She couldn’t even stop her own thoughts right now. Her life was a breeding ground for all the couldn’ts and can’ts in her existence. And she wasn’t living because of it.

And while most of her couldn’ts were true, the fact that she told herself she couldn’t walk across the bridge was simply not true.

She watched the elation on the faces of those who returned from the bridge, their cheeks rosy and eyes bright, and suddenly, she felt her legs moving forward, her breathing rushed, and her heart rate increasing.

Only this time, she was the one in control. She was the one making the decision for herself.

As excitement obscured her logic, Maisie spurred herself on one step after another until she joined the line. The bridge didn’t look so scary close up, and the view looked even better. She was ready to do this.

Each person ahead of her took his or her turn climbing down the stairs toward the bridge until finally, it was Maisie’s chance to cross. She welcomed her racing heart, the way it made her feel more connected to her body, the way it gave her the last push of courage to finally take her first step onto the bridge.

Her fingers gripped each side of the rope bridge as her other foot left solid ground, and the exhilaration was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Nothing could hold her back now. No fear could cripple her any longer.

The wind whistled gently in her ears, the bridge creaked happily beneath her Kiziks as she made it halfway. The English ladies were on the other side, cheering her on with delight, and Maisie was soaring. She was doing it. She was actually doing it! She was walking across this ridiculously tall bridge, crossing the sea, dangling over the ocean.

Her eyes trailed down to where her feet stood on the wooded planks, the churning blue waves visible through the netting that connected the wood, and suddenly, her stomach dropped.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

The realization of what she was doing had finally caught up with her. Her feet felt as heavy as if iron weights had been placed onto them. The bridge trembled beneath her. Her fingers shook. And she was stuck. Frozen in place. Trapped on the bridge. Trapped in life. Destined to dangle alone above churning waters and sharp rocks.

Forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Finn could see the shift take place in Maisie at once. Where before, she’d seemed thrilled and excited to cross the bridge, moving forward with steady footsteps, now her shoulders were high and tense, her hands gripped the rope tightly, and her feet were frozen in place.

A few people behind her called for her to continue, but she didn’t respond. She was stuck. Finn knew it. He’d seen it a handful of times before, people having too much confidence before crossing, then freezing midway. They always managed to inch forward after a minute or two, but Maisie wasn’t moving, and his heart twinged.

He’d felt worse than ever yesterday—rejecting her after the vulnerable way in which she’d asked him out. He’d always loved his job, but in that moment, he’d resented having to keep it.

Now, seeing her out there on the rope bridge, entirely alone without family or friends, Finn couldn’t take it any longer. He had to be near her. He had to help her.

Slipping past those in the line, he headed toward her, grateful he’d trusted his instincts today and followed her to the bridge. He’d seen her turn away from the café earlier, clearly trying to avoid him, so he’d determined right then to speak with her, to apologize for leading her on and express how badly he wished for things to be different so he could date her.

But now, that conversation would have to wait.