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Emma shoots me a wicked grin. Then laughs, not able to keep up the façade. “No.”

“It’s up with my jeans,” I nod toward the top of the cliff. Emma walks away. I thought I heard her say something, but when I look over my shoulder, she’s climbing up the cliff.

But I did hear someone. Two guys are heading back up the trail. I swear one of them is Collin. But they’re gone before I can be certain. Maybe I want it to be him.

Sunbeams spotlight the ledge where I kissed Sadie for the first time. I wish I could go back to that day. To the taste of the water on her lips. The look in her eyes when we pulled away. Would I do anything differently knowing what I do now? No. Forever no.

I’d still kiss her. I’d still love her. I’d still ask her to marry me.

Why do I keep doing that? Wanting something that will never happen.

They’ve both reached out to me. I keep rejecting them. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over what he did. What they both did.

The splash pulls me away from what will never be possible. Emma emerges from the water, lifting herself onto the boulder with freshly cut jean shorts.

I lift the corner of my mouth.

“What?” she says defensively, but she knows what I’m going to say.

“You’re not afraid of heights.”

“I know. You cured me, right?” Sarcasm is her defense.

“Emma, your fear was never of heights.” She’s not hearing me—avoiding what has always been her true fear. “What were you thinking when you were looking down at the water? What was going through your head?”

“That there was no way I was going to jump.”

I laugh—most sane people have the same thought. “Besides that.”

“That I was going to—” Her words cut off. I wait for her to say it, but she’s stunned by the truth.

“Emma, what are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of dying.”

Being on the brink of death changes a person. Witnessing it does too.

Life is never the same. There’s only before. And after.

What just happened?” I ask Collin, my body still quivering with shock, or fear, or all of the above.

Collin is grappling for words. To see him speechless only amplifies my emotions. If he can’t speak, then I know it was worse than I imagined it to be.

Collin’s shirt is destroyed, covered in wine, blood and whatever else shattered and split open. He has the start of a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Who hit you?”

He shrugs it off. “It’s what happens to peacekeepers. A stray elbow. A misdirected fist. Whatever. I’m fine.”

Feeling the need to do something, I say, “Give me your shirt.” He unbuttons it and hands it over without protest. I suddenly feel covered in blood again, a flashback to graduation night on the side of the road. I can’t get my dress off fast enough.

I rush to the washer and throw them in, dumping in detergent and starting the cycle. Then I focus on helping Collin, searching the freezer for something to put on his face. There’s a bag of frozen carrots. I hate carrots. Jonathan must’ve bought them.

“Here,” I say, setting it gently on his cheek.

He cups my hand. “Sadie, what are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.”