The balloonist’s name was Henry, and he was a solid-looking man in his forties, with deep brown eyes like the earth and a smile like the sun.
I stepped into the small basket and my pulse immediately ratcheted up.
The land dropped away below us, and it became more difficult to breathe.
I wrapped my arms around Abe, clinging to him. We were going to die; I was sure of it. If people were supposed to leave the land, we would have evolved with wings. Oh, God. Oh, God, what was I doing?
I buried my face in Abe’s chest. His mouth came down to my ear, and his words came out worried. “Are you okay?” He smoothed one hand over my hair.
My words were muffled against him. “I give us ten seconds to live.” I lifted my eyes the smallest bit so that I could glare at him.
But then I caught sight of something behind him.
The land sprawled out beneath us, rolling hills and snaking lakes. I caught my breath. The trees were green gilded with white, the water lightly frosted with sheets of ice. Snow blanketed the landscape, matched by the white clouds that drifted through the bright blue sky above us. I was drifting through a snow globe.
I started laughing. I’d done it. I was here. I was as proud of myself as though I’d sprouted wings or engineered the balloon myself. I’d made it. I was in the air. Below me, the patchwork world spread out in greens and whites. I hugged Abe tightly, and then pulled away and leaned toward the basket’s ledge.
It wasn’t anything silly, like that my fear of heights had magically been cured. No, my feet still tingled like crazy, the sparks wrapping all up my calves. But I wasn’t ignoring them. I wasn’t trying to smother them. I was reveling. “I did it!”
“Hey there.” Humor laced his voice, and warmth enveloped me as his arms went around my shoulders. “Careful.”
I twisted around to see him. “Abe! I’m flying. We’re flying.” Wonder filled my voice, my entire being. “This is amazing!”
“It’s—”
But I didn’t wait for him to finish that sentence. Instead, I turned and curled my hands in his lapels and pulled him forward, kissing him for all my worth.
For half a heartbeat, Abe was surprised, but then he curved one hand behind my back and bent me slightly, deepening the kiss until we weren’t just breathless from height and air. Not only my feet tingled, but my whole body, and now it felt good and right. I pulled back slightly and rubbed his cold red nose with mine. “Abraham. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
I beamed at him. He was right. Everything else was little and small here amongst the clouds and wind, where the only thing that mattered was him and me, me and him, and how much we loved each other.
Chapter Twenty-Six
But after New Year’s, we had to return home and face reality.
If I’d thought America’s collective consciousness would have forgotten us over the holidays, I’d been mistaken. If anything, the interest had festered as people talked it over with family members, spreading the story like a disease across the country as travelers gossiped and moved and spawned new stories of how awful I was.
Worst, football fever had hit its high point. The playoffs had arrived; the AFC Wildcard Round would be held this Saturday. The Leopards would be playing against the Patriots in the Divisional Round in a week. Not Abe, of course, since he was done for the season. But it would definitely keep him in the spotlight.
And if the Leopards made it to the Super Bowl in the first week of February, he and my story were unlikely to leave that hot glow of attention anytime in the coming months.
More networks had picked up my story, and enough people were asking questions that in the second week of January, as the world iced over and snow filled the city, the commissioner of the National Football League called a press conference.
* * *
That night, snow fell. The lack of wind meant it drifted down peacefully,
large, cartwheelings shards of ice that blanketed the world. Everything seemed whitened—the sky, the ground, the air. A pervasive silence filled the city, calming to my ears. It was the sound of peace.
It reigned everywhere except inside me.
I expected to be locked out of the press conference, but to my surprise Tanya said no one was being blocked. Interest of transparency and all that, I supposed.
Nervous energy flowed through me as we stepped into the hall. I’d downed two coffees, which had been a bad idea, and now I was so wired that my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I kept my body perfectly controlled, though, scared that if I relaxed even the slightest bit I’d be unable to restrain myself.
I wished Abe could be next to me, but he couldn’t, of course. He’d be up on stage, given that he was one of the key players in the whole thing, and currently one of the most visible Leopards. Instead, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guys, and their support did wonders to calm my breathing.