Chapter Thirteen Hailey
When my alarm goes off, I’m momentarily disoriented, my body still craving more sleep.
But then I remember—skydiving with Cole at four thirty.
The thought propels me out of bed and into the shower, where the hot water helps restore some semblance of humanity.
I exfoliate and shave every nook and cranny twice before lathering my entire body in vanilla-scented soap.
I hope Cole likes vanilla. He’s got to, right?
What man doesn’t like diving headfirst into someone who smells like a cupcake?
Chewy watches me intently as I stand in front of my closet in nothing but a towel, deliberating what to wear.
“What do you think?” I ask him as he scampers up to perch on my shoulder. “Athletic and practical, or cute and impractical?”
He chitters, which I choose to interpret as “Why are you asking a ferret for fashion advice?”
“You’re right. Athletic it is. We’re literally jumping out of a plane.”
I settle on black leggings that make my ass look fantastic and a long-sleeve thermal top that’s warm but not bulky. Layers can come off later. Hopefully.
Between the everything shower and the anticipation of Cole peeling off my clothes later, I have high hopes for how today will end.
I give Chewy his afternoon treats and make sure he has enough food and water, then grab my jacket and head out. Cole is picking me up, which has me even more excited.
His truck pulls up right on time, and my stomach does a giddy flip when I see him through the windshield. The way his black T-shirt stretches across his chest should be illegal, and his smile when he spots me is warm enough to melt the October chill.
“Ready to fall from the sky?” he asks as I climb in.
“Born ready.” I’m not, actually. I’m terrified. But I’m also exhilarated, and those two feelings are currently battling for dominance like gladiators in my chest. “How high are we going?”
“Fourteen thousand feet.”
“Cool, cool, cool.” My voice comes out slightly strangled. “That’s…high.”
Cole laughs, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll buy you dinner and let you yell at me about how absolutely terrible it was.”
“Deal.”
The drive to the private airstrip takes about forty minutes, winding through roads that climb into the foothills.
The mountains are showing off today—aspens blazing gold and orange against the dark green of the pines, the late afternoon sun turning everything honey-warm.
Colorado in fall is stupidly beautiful. It’s like living inside a desktop wallpaper.
“Jack’s been flying since he was sixteen,” Cole tells me as we pull onto a gravel road marked with a hand-painted sign that says Morrison Aviation.
“Did two tours as an Army pilot, flew mostly Blackhawks in Afghanistan. Now he runs adventure tours and charters on the side of his cybersecurity company.”
“So he’s qualified.”
“Overqualified. The man could probably land a plane blindfolded in a hurricane.”
“Let’s not test that theory today.”
We park next to a small hangar where Jack is doing a pre-flight check on a small passenger plane. I take him in more closely than I did a few days ago at the coffee shop. Jack is a tall, broad Black man, with black hair and deep-brown skin. When he sees Cole, his face splits into a wide grin.
“There he is.” Jack pulls Cole into one of those back-slapping bro hugs men do. “And this is the girl who’s got you acting like a lovesick teenager.”
“Jack,” Cole warns, turning away. Is he…blushing?
“What? I’m just saying. You’ve mentioned her approximately eight thousand times.”
I feel my own cheeks flush, but I’m also secretly delighted. “Eight thousand seems like an exaggeration.”
“It’s an estimate.” Jack extends his hand to me, and says, “Jack Morrison. Nice to more properly meet the woman behind the obsession.”
“Hailey Brigham. Nice to meet the man who’s going to throw me out of his plane.”
Jack laughs, a deep rumble that matches his broad chest. “I like her. She’s got good energy.”
“She’s terrified,” I admit.
“Even better. Fear means you’re paying attention.”
He walks us through the safety briefing like he’s done this a thousand times. We’re doing a tandem jump, which means I’ll be strapped to Cole’s chest—or rather, he’ll be strapped to my back. He’ll handle the technical stuff while I focus on not screaming my throat raw or flailing too much.
“Now, the landing zone,” Jack says, pulling up a map on his phone. “It’s a nice big clearing in a valley about ten miles east. Easy approach, soft terrain, very forgiving.”
“Soft terrain,” I repeat, liking the sound of something gentle and cloud-like at the bottom of our jump.
“And forgiving,” Jack confirms.
There’s a flicker of something across his face. Maybe an itch, or maybe a smile that he kills before it can fully form. Either way, it sends a bolt of suspicion down my spine.
Cole narrows his eyes at Jack. “Define soft.”
“You know, the usual. Grass. Earth. The standard fall-from-the-sky-onto-the-planet experience.”
“Jack.”
“Coke.”
They have a brief stare-off that I don’t fully understand. Then Jack claps his hands together. “Anyway! Harnesses!”
“How many times have you done this before?” I ask Cole as Jack helps me into the harness.
“Only a few hundred,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. “Did my jump certification in the military, kept it up after.”
“Of course you did.” I shake my head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Cook,” he says without hesitation. “I once set off a smoke detector boiling water.”
“How is that even possible?”
“Forgot about it. For two hours.”
Jack snorts. “He’s not lying. He could hardly piece together an MRE on missions. In a kitchen? Atrocious.”
The harness feels strange—snug across my chest and thighs. Cole checks every connection three times, his hands professional but thorough, and I try not to shiver when his fingers brush my hips.
“You good?” he asks, his voice low enough that Jack can’t hear.
“Nervous,” I admit. “But the good kind.”
“That’s my girl.”
My girl. The words send a warm pulse through my chest that travels down between my thighs.
As we walk to the plane, I notice Jack tossing something into the back of his company van that looks suspiciously like a stack of clean towels.
“Why does he have so many towels?” I lean in to ask Cole.
Cole is already watching Jack. “Probably from the last group.”
We climb into the plane, and Jack takes us up in a smooth ascent that makes my ears pop.
The higher we go, the more the landscape unfolds beneath us—a patchwork quilt of autumn colors.
The mountains rise in an explosion of majestic color, and in the distance, the late sun casts everything in gold.
It’s breathtaking in a way that almost makes me forget we’re about to voluntarily exit this aircraft.
Almost.
“Two minutes,” Jack calls back to us.
Cole positions himself behind me, and suddenly his body is pressed against mine as he clips our harnesses together. Every point of contact feels alive and buzzing—his chest against my back, his thighs bracketing mine, his breath hot against my ear.
“Remember what I told you,” he says. “Arms crossed over your chest when we jump, then spread them out once we’re stable. Arch your back. Let me do the work.”
“Let you do the work. Got it.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. His hands settle on my hips, adjusting our position, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of him.
“One minute.”
Cole opens the door, and the wind screams into the cabin, cold and violent.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.
My heart rate spikes. The ground looks impossibly far away—a miniature world of vibrant trees and winding rivers.
“Oh God,” I breathe.
“I’ve got you.” Cole’s arms wrap around me, secure and solid. “Trust me.”
And the thing is, I do.
“It’s time!” Jack calls over his shoulder. “It’s been a pleasure flying with you today. Be sure to leave me a good review on Yelp!” He pauses. “And aim for the center of the clearing! Trust me on that part!”
“What does that mean?” I yell.
“Have fun!”
We tip forward before I can process what he said, and the world disappears.
For one eternal second, there’s nothing but wind and falling and my own scream ripping from my throat. The earth rushes up to meet us at a speed that shouldn’t be possible, and every survival instinct I have is shrieking that this was a terrible idea.
Then something shifts.
The initial terror gives way to something wild and free and utterly exhilarating.
We’re not falling. We’re flying. The wind holds us up like a giant hand, and the world spreads out beneath us in all its glory.
I can see the curvature of the mountains, the way the aspen groves look like spilled gold paint, the ribbon of a river catching the light.
Cole grabs hold of my hands and spreads my arms, and I’m a bird. A very screamy, adrenaline-drunk bird, but a bird nonetheless. Cole’s grip on me is strong and steady, so grounding in an incredibly unstable situation.
“Holy shit!” I yell, and I feel Cole’s amused laugh vibrate against my back.
The freefall seems to last forever and no time at all. Sixty seconds of pure, unfiltered chaos, my body singing with the rush of it. And through it all, Cole is there—steady and warm and real, his body fitted against mine like we were designed to do this together.
Then he pulls the chute, and everything changes again.
The jolt is gentler than I expected—a firm tug that shifts us from plummeting to floating. Suddenly the roar of the wind quiets, and we’re drifting, suspended beneath a canopy of bright blue nylon. The world below is silent and stunning.
“You okay?” Cole asks, his voice clear now without the wind.
“I’m fucking amazing.” I laugh, slightly hysterical. “That was incredible. Can we do it again? I want to do it again.”
“Adrenaline junkie in the making.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I knew you’d love it.”