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KENZIE
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HOURS LATER, I REGRET my decision to scale the eighty-foot-tall obstacle course with only a harness and tiny clip keeping me from plummeting to my death on River Sports’ Sky Trail. Balance beams, zig zags of ropes, and other Fear Factor-like challenges lie between me and the free fall jump at the top, and I’m cursing Trinity for thinking this makes for a good bonding experience.
I would’ve been just fine safely on the ground, chatting with former classmates—no need for scaling a freaking steel monolith.
“Come on, you can do it. You’re close to the end now.” Joel holds the swaying bridge as steady as he can from his position on the opposite side as I gingerly hop across planks laid at odd intervals. It’s our last obstacle before reaching the top, and I have to give him credit because he’s being incredibly patient and helpful. The Joel I knew before wouldn’t have thought twice about shaking the unsteady bridge to scare me and to get a laugh out of others.
Thank goodness, he’s matured.
More than I realized.
I steal a quick peek at his toned arms braced along the ropes, his muscular legs providing a firm foundation of support, and can’t help the flutter of butterflies swooping around in my belly. He’s grown into a man—a fully-developed male in his prime. My body knows it, recognized it last night at the gazebo, but now my mind’s catching up.
“Good job, buttercup.” Joel reaches for my hand and pulls me onto the steady platform at the end of the bridge. Somehow, I made it across without much thought, too caught up in fantasizing about hard muscles and how they felt beneath me.
Geez, get a grip, girl.
“Thanks... Are you sure you don’t want to jump down with me?” We’ve made it to the end of the course, and there are only two ways down: by jumping off a ledge or gliding down a ginormous slide. Since I’ve never experienced the feeling of weightlessness before—no matter how brief it’ll be—I opted for the free fall.
Joel watches one of our classmates, Monica, step off the extended scaffolding to land safely a few seconds later on the target mat below and scrunches his nose in refusal. “Nah, I’m good. The slide’s more my speed.”
“Like a kid at the playground,” I tease but urge him towards the slide as I get in line for the jump. The sign at the start of the course listed height and weight requirements which I double-checked to make sure I was well within range of. Having experienced an embarrassing moment at a theme park five years ago when I couldn’t fit in the regular rollercoaster cart and had to be moved to the plus-sized one, I never want to go through something like that again. Hell, I still scold myself for not checking the requirements for that particular ride years later. I don’t need another humiliating experience haunting me, too.
The line moves forward as Josh Parker prepares to jump and asks a million questions while getting hooked into the bungee cord. I see Joel already standing below, staring up with a hand over his head to block the sunlight. Waving, I force a brave smile as the gap between me and him registers.
The jump didn't look so bad earlier but now that I’m next to be secured into the harness, fear creeps in with a sick tightening in my gut. What am I doing? I could get hurt. Die! This thing could break under my weight and then what? I'll plunge to my death in front of a group of old classmates and a bunch of strangers.
You can’t back out now. You said you’d do this, so you will.
A garbled yell rises from Josh as he takes a running leap into the air—a direct contrast to the safety operator’s advice of stepping off the platform in a controlled-fashion—but despite the warning, the wild jump doesn’t cause any issues. Josh lands on his feet and raises two fists in victory while another course employee unhooks him from the tether.
My turn.
“Ready?” A minute later, the safety instructor tugs on my harness ensuring its security, and I nod because I can't chicken out now. Josh just made a spectacle of himself flying off the edge like some kind of superhero, the least I can do is take one baby step off. Ten seconds of bravery.
You've got this.
Inhaling a deep breath, I count to three then exhale, walking out into thin air. Gravity quickly drags me back to earth for an exhilarating moment—my stomach flying up to my chest in a strange ticklish sensation—until an audible snap sounds from above, and my semi-controlled descent goes wildly off course. A yelp of terror erupts from my swinging body as I desperately hold onto the bungee cord, narrowly missing slamming into a steel beam.
Gray concrete flies into view, and I brace for a hard landing when someone crashes into my flailing body, sending us rolling to the ground in a tangled heap. A firm chest cushions my head, rampant beating matching the erratic pace of my own heart while I struggle to catch my breath.
“Kenzie, are you alright?” It’s Joel. He’s the one who saved me, and I’ve never been so glad to see the man in my life.
Before I can reply, strangers pull me off of him—people in medic gear tossing out a barrage of questions as they poke and prod—but I’m incapable of uttering more than one-word answers as shock sets in.
For all my caution, I still could’ve been seriously injured.
Despite doing everything right.
Checking the obstacle’s height and weight requirements. Listening to the safety trainer’s directions.
And none of it mattered.
Everyone else was safe before me, and once they check the line again, I’m sure those after me will be, too. Yet, I’m the one sitting on hard concrete, overwhelmed by strangers touching me and trying not to have a panic attack.
Tears blur my vision. Not so much from physical pain, but from the futility of it all. I was careful and smart, and it didn’t mean a damn thing.
Don’t be stupid. Pull yourself together; you can’t cry right now.
Glancing upward, I rapidly blink away the threat of waterworks, willing them to wait until I’m in my hotel room, free to break down in privacy. Even seeing Kyle yesterday and being reminded of my failure didn’t make me cry. Guess a near-death experience was all I needed to push me over the emotional edge.
“Looks like you sustained some minor bruising from the yank of the harness, but otherwise, I think you’ll be okay. Just take it easy for the rest of the day, okay?” The kind medic pats my arm before packing her things into a red bag, and I hear Joel reassure her from his position next to me.
“I’ll watch over her. I’m a doctor, so she’s in good hands.”
A doctor? My brain struggles to compute the slacker image of Joel with that of a doctor, especially through the fog of shock and self-recrimination clouding my mind.
“Yep, I'm a pediatrician.” I must have voiced my doubt aloud as he answers, taking hold of my hand and massaging the reddened palm—evidence of my death grip on the bungee cord earlier. Swallowing thickly at the sight, I count my breaths, praying the simple act calms my nerves.
“It wasn't easy,” he continues. “You know I wasn’t motivated in undergrad, but eventually I found my focus. My family owns a practice in our hometown, and I always knew I wanted to join them someday. Post-grad was a wake-up call. If I wanted to work with my family and help kids, I needed to grow up and focus on what mattered. I kept that front of mind throughout school and my residency.”
Interesting.
A responsible and hardworking Joel. Who would’ve thought?
“If you're ready to walk, we can get out of here.” He stands and offers a hand to me. “Go somewhere more private. But only when you’re ready. Don’t push if you’re not.”
“Private sounds nice.” A small group of people stand to the side watching us as if waiting for me to keel over suddenly from a delayed reaction to the fall. Escaping prying eyes is just what I need. Ignoring his hand, I lurch up from my sitting position, wobbling on rubbery legs and slamming a palm against the steel pillar I'd been leaning against for support.
Guess you should’ve accepted his help.
“Whoa, easy.” Joel's arm circles my back, and he bends as if to swoop me up into a lift.
“Stop! What are you doing?” We form an awkward pretzel with my body stretching to avoid his approaching embrace. “I can walk. I just need a second.”
“Don't force anything. That was a traumatic fall despite your minor injuries. Let me get you back to the van where you can rest.” He tries again, and I wiggle in his arms like a worm on a fishing hook. I am not letting him carry me. It would be too humiliating.
“No, I'm fine. See?” I stiffen my muscles and step forward, heading towards the parking lot. “I appreciate the chivalry and all, but I doubt we would've made it far anyway. I'm not exactly a lightweight.”
“Neither am I.” Joel huffs, and my attention fastens on his broad shoulders and the muscles contracting under his tee. But despite his obvious strength, I'm not about to let him try lifting me for any distance. I've been embarrassed enough today, thank you.
Hell, I double-checked the weight limit for the obstacle course before ever snapping into the harness, and I still ended up on my butt. Granted, apparently Josh’s wild antics before my jump are to blame for messing with the rigging, but who knows? Maybe my larger size exacerbated the problem.
We slowly make it to the school van where I gratefully sink into the driver’s seat, resting my head against the padded back and closing my eyes in relief. Joel settles into the passenger seat, and it’s a minute before I collect myself enough to continue our previous conversation, eager to move on from my fall and learn how he turned his life around so drastically.
“Tell me more about life after Trinity because I’m having a hard time envisioning you surviving medical school.” With a turn of the key, I roll the windows down to let the cool fall breeze drift inside while we wait for everyone else to join us when the course closes in an hour.
“You’re not the only one.” Joel chuckles, reclining his seat back and propping an elbow against the door jamb. He shoots a boyish grin across the console, and my stomach tightens in awareness. He really is adorable. Words I never thought I’d say about Joel Beecham. “I was really lucky to be accepted into Fallon College of Medicine. No doubt my dad helped with his connection to the dean. Honestly, I thought I’d coast through because of that, but Dr. King quickly set me straight my first semester. Told me to shape up or ship out basically.”
Doubt creases my forehead; it’s difficult imagining a stern lecture having that much of an effect on Joel. Surely our professors at Trinity tried the same thing with less than stellar results. “And just like that you became the perfect student?” My voice drips with disbelief—there’s got to be more to this story.