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Before long, he managed to slip past the others waiting a few feet behind Maisie, slowly walking across the bridge himself, hands on the rope guides beside him. Maisie still stared down at the sea, her hair floating around her as if they were in water, taken by the invisible currents of wind. Her dress rippled at her legs, her shoes as clean as ever.

Should he call out to her? Or would the wind and sea prevent her from hearing? Not wanting to startle her by shouting, he kept moving forward until finally, he was close enough to speak softly.

“Alright, Maisie?” he said gently from behind.

Maisie’s shoulders stiffened. “Finn?” she breathed out.

Had she been crying, or was she simply in shock?

“Aye, it’s me,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said at once, barely shifting her head to the side. “I can move. I can. Just give me a second.”

His heart reached out to her. Though she didn’t appear to be crying, he could hear the panic laced thickly through her voice.

“There’s no need to apologize, love,” he said, taking a closer step toward her. Her hair slipped past him, filling his nose with the smell of strawberries. “You take all the time you need.”

She nodded. “I just…need one second,” she repeated between heavy breaths.

He stayed behind her, giving her the time she asked for, but still, she didn’t move.

“I can’t do it,” she finally said, her voice breaking. “It’s just too high. I’m gonna fall…”

His brow drew together. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly, drawing even closer. “You won’t fall. The bridge is safe, and I’m right here.” He reached forward, resting a hand on her white knuckles still gripping the bridge. “I promise you, I won’t let you fall.”

Maisie didn’t respond for a minute, then finally, she gave a short nod.

“Are you breathin’, love?” he asked next.

“I’m trying to.”

Her words sounded strangled, and concern pricked his worries. He couldn’t have her pass out on the bridge. Then they really would be in trouble.

“That’s good,” he said. “Tryin’ is always good. Can you do me a favor and look up at the land instead of the sea?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes still down.

He chewed on his lower lip. Either she hadn’t heard him, or she couldn’t do what he suggested. She needed a distraction, something to pull her eyes in the direction she needed to go.

“I’m goin’ to move ahead of you, alright, Maisie?” he said. At least then, if she did pass out, he’d be able to catch her from the front. “Then I’ll get you off this bridge.”

“I can’t let go of the rope,” she said, sounding more frantic.

“You don’t have to. You keep hold of the bridge, and I’ll work ’round you.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. Slowly, he moved his left hand from the bridge, resting it on Maisie’s side, instead. Feeling her thin frame beneath his fingertips—despite her thick jacket—was enough to send him reeling, and that same desire to protect her rushed inside him, spurring him to move swiftly.

He maneuvered under her arm, sliding his hand along her back until he twisted around to face her, then promptly, he placed his hands on the rope so his fingers pressed against hers on the bridge.

“Hi, there,” he said with a warm smile.

Maisie still stared down at the sea.

“I need you to look at me now, love,” he said.

She blinked, then finally tore her gaze away from the waves below.

As her blue eyes met his, his breathing stinted.