Page 113 of Pucking Forbidden

“I am so sorry, Hadley,” he murmurs, his eyes burning with an intensity that knocks the wind right out of my lungs. “I was wrong. I was a coward to keep it from you.”

He was wrong, and he did hurt me. He should’ve trusted me.

“Julian,” I murmur. “Why couldn’t you have just told me the truth? Trusted me? If moving to Chicago is something you had to do, no matter what, we would have figured things out. But you lied to me. Kept secrets. Made me feel like I didn’t matter. I’m just not sure if I can trust you to be honest and open with me anymore.”

“Fuck, Hadley. Sweetheart, you are right. About everything. I fucked up. But you can,” he insists. “I want to prove to you that you can trust me. Will you do something for me? Just today. Come with me. I'll show you how much I want you, want us, and how sorry I am. Please.”

He puts his hand out and waits for me to take it.

I stare at it for several seconds, trying to decide if I should really trust him. I want to. I want to so badly.

“Okay,” I breathe, reaching out to take his hand. “What are we doing?”

A relieved smile curls his lips, softening the hard lines of his jaw. “Put on some layers and hiking boots, and don't ask any questions.”

“Julian,” I hiss, my brow furrowing. “I don’t love surprises.”

Julian lets out a low chuckle. “Of course you don’t…but that’s the whole damn point of today. Move your butt. The clock is ticking.”

Our day starts in the mountains just outside the city limits.

It’s an unusually warm day for early December. The sun is burning bright and gold against a sky so blue it looks painted. The snow has melted off the lower elevations, leaving the dirt trails dry and dusty. Despite the beautiful weather, I make it my personal mission to complain through the entire first hour of the trek.

I can’t make this too easy for him, after all.

“This isn't a trail, Julian, this is a vertical wall,” I huff, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead as my hiking boots slip on a patch of loose gravel.

Julian is walking two paces ahead of me, his big body moving up the steep incline with the effortless discipline of an athlete who trains on ice for a living. He doesn't even look winded. Every time the trail splits into an easy, winding switchback or a steep, rocky scramble, he takes the harder path, and I swear it’s just to mess with me.

“Builds character, sweetheart,” he calls back over his shoulder, an amused smirk flashing on his face. “Keep those legs moving. You’re lagging.”

“I am a student, not a mountain goat!” I yell at his broad back, but as the words leave my mouth, a strange thing happens. The suffocating, tight coil of anxiety that has been sitting in my stomach since the first fight with my dad begins to loosen. The thin mountain air fills my lungs, the smell of pine and warm dirt soothing me.

By the time we finally reach the rocky overlook at the summit, the city of Denver sprawling out like a miniature grid below us, I am completely out of breath…and I’m laughing.

Julian stands near the edge, his hands jammed into his pockets, watching me as I lean against a boulder, trying to catch my breath. I look at the view, then look at him, and for the first time in a week, the dark clouds in my brain are gone.

Julian isn't done. An hour later, we pull up to a sleek, modern commercial building on the outskirts of the city. The second I read the massive vinyl lettering across the glass facade, I stop dead in my tracks.

Indoor Skydiving.

“Absolutely not,” I declare, crossing my arms over my chest and stepping back toward the truck. “No. Not a chance. You are actively trying to kill me, Julian Wilder. I am not jumping into a giant wind tunnel.”

“Hadley,” Julian laughs, his hand reaching out to catch my waist, pulling my back against him. His chest is warm, and he rests his chin against the top of my head as I squirm. “It’s just air, sweetheart. It’s perfectly safe.”

“It is a category five hurricane inside a glass tube!” I argue, turning around in his embrace to glare up at him.

Julian just looks down at me, his eyes dancing with a teasing challenge that activates every single stubborn bone in my body. “What’s the matter? The smart girl can’t handle a little wind?”

My jaw drops. “Oh, you think you’re funny? Fine. Let’s go. But if I die, I’m haunting your big ass forever.”

Ten minutes later, I am zipped into an oversized blue jumpsuit, a helmet buckled tight under my chin, and goggles pressing into my cheeks. The roar of the vertical wind tunnel is deafening, a massive column of air rushing up through the steel grate.

The instructor gives me the signal, but I hesitate. Can I actually do this? I’m not sure…

Julian suddenly puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Hadley, you got this,” he assures me with a grin. “You are the strongest person I know. You moved from abroad to Denver. Started a new school. Got a job. Moved out on your own. You can do anything you set your mind to. So just jump, sweetheart. I'll always be there to catch you.”