“Go ahead without me.” She stuffed her monkey under her armpit in a stranglehold and held out her hand in the universal “gimme money” plea. “I want a funnel cake. I’ll sit on the bench and wait.”
Rick considered ordering her to join them, but that would start another eye rolling, slouching, foot stomping, sighing, ad nauseam teenage response of disgust. Why had she crossed multiple states in the first place if she hated him so much? “Fine. We’ll meet you back here in five minutes and I’ll be watching you. Stay by the security guard.”
“Of course. I’ll get an extra funnel cake for you and Nola.” She wiggled her fingers. Money.
“Thanks.”
While Nola settled into the ride, he passed his crutches to Lauren for safekeeping and climbed into the seat. A teenager lowered the safety bars from overhead to lock them in place for the hydraulic lift before they were dropped. He watched Lauren sit with her funnel cake, happily chatting away with a park security guard, then turned to Nola.
Chalky pale Nola? The afternoon sun beating down on them left no room for misinterpretation.
She pulled a wobbly smile. “Have I mentioned that I hate heights?”
“Holy crap, Nola. I just assumed you would like this too. You’re a pilot for crying out loud.”
“I like to land with wings. Not a nylon pillowcase.”
“You should have told me no. I could have ridden by myself—or not at all. I’m not a kid who would pitch a tantrum if I didn’t get my treat.” He looked around for a way to call this off, but the ride was already full ahead and behind them. They were seconds from launch. Still, he cupped his hands around his mouth to shout—
Nola put her hand on his arm. “I want to share this with you. Let it go.”
He’d been with enough newbie jumpers to know distraction worked best, so he started talking, while periodically checking on Lauren. “I love to jump so much, sometimes I forget that others aren’t as addicted to it as I am. My mother vowed I gave her a heart attack when I was only two. She found me on top of the garage, ready to jump. I leaped off fences, swing sets, slides, car tops, balconies…and that was before first grade.”
“Your poor parents.” Her eyes lit as brightly as her grin.
“No kidding. I broke so many bones, they knew me on a first-name basis in the emergency room.” He reached surreptitiously to take her hand. “I’m sure my parents lived in fear of investigation by child services since I got hurt so often.”
“Is that how you came by your call sign? Lurch—like lurching forward?”
The ride jerked as if in tandem with the word lurch. Her hand jerked in his. He linked their fingers tighter.
“I wish. That would be far more dignified.” The capsule started its ascent upward. “On my fifth jump, I started feeling—how should I put it?—too confident. I made my way toward the open hatch, ready to roll, certain I could take the elements…and I knocked myself unconscious heading out the door.”
Her shoulders jerked upward with a burst of laughter.
He nudged her foot with his as they rose higher and higher, the people below growing smaller. “Hey, at least my call sign’s not ‘Sewer.’”
“Ohmigod, I’m not sure I want to know the story of how he got that one.”
“In his defense, the coordinates were off so it wasn’t his fault he landed in the sewage plant.”
She rolled her head along the rest to stare at him with serious eyes as blue as the sky he missed. “You really do miss it all.”
“There’s nothing like the jump.” Or was there? He stared into those endless blue eyes of hers and—
The bottom fell out. The capsule fell and his stomach welcomed the fall. Nola screamed, but a happy yelp so he allowed himself to savor the moment. His head thunked back, his eyes closed and…
Swoosh. The ride slowed as it eased to a stop all too soon. And that was it? Everything was over. He told himself the letdown came from the ride being so short, not a dissatisfaction from the experience. Parachuting took longer. That was the difference.
But inside him a voice niggled that there was something…missing. Something he didn’t have time to explore now because he had to haul his butt out of the seat for the next person to take his or her turn.
He followed Nola onto the landing and forced a smile he didn’t feel. “How was it?”
She kept her hand linked with his. “Pretty much like the first time I saw you.”
“What does that mean?” And did he really want to know right now when he was chin deep in questions about his own response to this experience?
She pivoted on her heel to face him, no smile in sight but unflinching. “My stomach jolted and I wasn’t sure if it was in a good or bad way, but there was no denying the reaction.”