CHAPTER NINETEEN
Adrenaline Rush Foreplay
The wind roars past my ears as I zip above the treetops, the mountain sprawling out below like a dream I forgot to wake from.
I hold my arms out, letting the breeze slice through my fingers, and for a moment, I pretend I’m flying. Free. Weightless. Untethered.
Brooks was right. The zipline was exactly what I needed. And still, jumping into air shakes everything loose: fear, grief, the what-ifs I can’t outrun.
What if Dad doesn’t get better? What if Mom never says goodbye? What if he come home to find his life taped into boxes?
The thought cracks something inside me. My parents have never been normal. I’ve spent my whole life trying to parent the very people who were supposed to parent me. Managing their moods, softening their chaos, keeping everything from tipping over. Always the steady one. Always the fixer.
Maybe that’s why I ran.
Leaving wasn’t just escape, it was survival. Staying felt like punishment, leaving like betrayal, and now? Now I’ve set the weight on Jasper’s shoulders. Pulling myself out of a lake I’d been drowning in for years and sprinting toward anything that felt like air.
Is that fair?
Should I feel guilty for wanting a life that’s my own?
I land hard on the wooden platform, knees bending to catch the impact, and before I’ve even caught my breath, Brooks is there.
"You alright?" he asks, voice low, eyes squinting at my face in the late morning sun.
I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks. "Yeah. Totally fine. Wind’s brutal up there."
Brooks doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me. Like he sees more than I want him to. "You sure about that?"
I stiffen as the next attendant steps in to hook me up. "I’m fine."
"You don’t have to pretend with me," Brooks says, scratching his jaw, his voice quieter now. "I wasn’t trying to push."
"Then stop making everything so awkward," I snap, harsher than I mean to.
His brow lifts slightly, but he doesn’t flinch. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
I look away. "If I wasn’t," I say, "I’d tell you."
But even as the words leave my mouth, we both know that’s not true.
The rest of the ride down the zipline, I do everything I can not to think. About anything. I focus on the wind in my ears, the rush of air against my skin, the distant blur of green as the trees whip past beneath me. I try to let the noise drown out the sound of my racing heart.
But the silence inside me is deafening.
No matter how fast I move, I can’t outpace the nagging sensation in my chest. The one whispering that going back to LA at the end of the week might be the wrong decision.
The longer I stay, the harder it becomes to tell myself I still belong out there. In a high-rise apartment. In front of a ring light. In a life that feels curated instead of lived.
If I don’t leave soon, I won’t just lose momentum, I’ll lose myself. The empire I built. The career I clawed into existence. My entire sense of autonomy.
Because this place? It’s a vortex.
Dad’s hospitalization. Mom’s fragile shell of a life. Jasper’s quiet resignation. Brooks’ steady, unshakable presence all tugging at me, piece by piece, until I’m not sure what would be left to take back.
And the scariest part? I’m starting to wonder if being pulled under would really be so bad.
I reach the final wooden deck with a loud thud as the attendant smiles and asks how the experience was. I mumble something like "It was fun," though the word tastes hollow in my mouth.
"Hey, you’re Elowen," she says as she begins unfastening my harness.
"Did we—uh—go to high school together?" I blurt, hoping this time I’m getting it right.
Brooks arrives just in time to witness my awkward spiral. Great.
"No," the woman laughs. "I think I’ve seen a few of your videos on Highlight."
"Oh." I exhale as I remove my helmet. "That tracks."
"I liked the one you did about the waterproof mascara," she continues as I step out of the harness. "You influenced me. I bought it. I’m even wearing it right now."
I smile. "It looks great on you."
"Thank you," she replies.
Brooks steps forward, letting the woman help him next.
She takes her sweet time. I watch her beam up at him, tucking her hair behind her ear as she unhooks the loops on his harness.
She definitely has a thing for him. Honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if she hasn't seen his Lumberjack Hottie thirst traps on my social media.
But while she's trying to capture Brooks' attention, he's looking straight at me.
He scrunches his nose as he unbuckles his helmet, and his hair stands straight up. "You have helmet hair."
I glare at him. "So do you."
He reaches out and ruffles my hair, smirking. "There. Better." Then, he motions to the frown I can’t hide. "Why is your face doing that?"
"Why is your face doing that?" I shoot back. He has a goofy look, like he's amused by whatever it is going on inside my head. "Oh my god," I gasp, pointing. "Is that sweat on your brow?"
His eyes widen in horror. "No. No!" He quickly wipes his face. "Where?!"
I laugh. A little too hard.
"You know how I feel about sweat," he grumbles. "Don’t tease me. It’s rude."
"There you go," the woman says as she steps back and gives Brooks a pretty smile. "Listen, I think you’re cute. Want to grab a drink sometime?"
He doesn’t miss a beat. He grabs me by the waist and pulls me against him. "I’m flattered, but I’ve got a girlfriend. We’re kind of on a date."
It’s a lie. My heartbeat doesn’t care.
"Oh," the woman says, clearly flustered. "Sorry. I should have figured that out."
Brooks kisses the side of my face, and I quickly wipe his slobber off my skin. "It’s okay." He smiles—genuinely smiles—at me like he’s won the lottery. And for a second, I wonder if he really believes that.
"Do you guys do this kind of thing often?" she asks.
"Oh yeah." Brooks fibs. "We call it Adrenaline Rush Foreplay."
I stare at him. Mortified. Of course he says that. Of course he does. I want to disappear into the deck planks.
"You’re banned from words."
"You love my words." He grins, full of himself.
"I do not," I snap, trying to step away, but it’s too late. Brooks grabs me and hoists me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all.
I flail, then give up—legs jelly—while he smugly hauls me down two flights of stairs.
When we reach the bottom, he sets me down with surprising care. I tug my shirt into place, raking my fingers through my hair as I try to regain what little dignity I have left.
"I’m flattered, but I’ve got a girlfriend," I mock, shooting him a glare. "Seriously? What was that?"
He just keeps grinning, cocky as ever. "You really want to sell it, Ellie? We could make out right now. Really drive the point home."
I swat dirt off my shorts. "Absolutely not."
Something shifts in his expression then. The grin fades. His tone softens. "What’s going on?"
I pause, the truth heavy on my tongue. I could lie.
I could tell him I’m fine, that none of this is touching me.
That I’ve learned to let it roll off like I always have.
But I’m not in LA anymore. I’m not surrounded by people who don’t know the full story.
I’m here, standing in the thick of it. And maybe for once, pretending doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like avoidance.
"I’m angry," I admit.
He waits. "With who?"
"Everyone," I say honestly. "My mom. My dad. Jasper. You."
"Me?" His brows lift.
"I want to go home," I admit. "But I feel like I can’t. If I leave, I’m abandoning everyone again. If I stay, I lose everything I’ve built. I’m so tired, Brooks. And I’m just… angry. Because I’m the one who always has to hold everything together."
Brooks doesn’t flinch. He reaches up and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch almost reverent.
"Ellie, you’re allowed to feel that way. Anger and grief? They’re cousins. Same bloodline. Just like love and hate."
The truth knocks something loose in my ribcage.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It’s not simple," he says. "But it’s honest. And it’s okay to leave, if that’s what you need. You don’t have to carry all of this. Not alone."
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. I don’t wipe them away.
Instead, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. Brooks doesn’t hesitate. He hugs me back like he’s been waiting to do it for years, one hand smoothing over my back as the other holds the back of my head.
I let myself breathe. Let myself feel it. Let myself not fix anything.
I’m just being held. And it feels good.
I’m not sure how long we stand like that, clinging to each other like some kind of lifeline, but by the time Brooks finally lets me go and casually drapes an arm around my shoulders, the edge of my anger has dulled. It hasn’t vanished, but it’s softened. Manageable.
"So," he drawls as we walk toward the truck, his tone light, "do you forgive me?"
I blink up at him. "Forgive you for what?"
He grins. "Leaving you stranded on the zipline when we were kids."
I expel a long breath, part sigh, part exasperated laugh. "Brooks, we were what? Seven? Eight?"
"Still," he says, his fingers grazing my shoulder, "I’ve had guilt over it ever since. I didn’t know what to do. Your parents always scared the hell out of me, and my grandma... well, she was five-foot-two on a good day."
I squint at him. "You laughed at me."
"I panicked and laughed. I always laugh when I’m scared."
It’s been a theme his whole life—deflecting discomfort with humor, dodging pain with charm.
"I think that’s your entire coping mechanism," I say with a small smile. "Laugh first, deal later."
He nods, the smile on his lips fading just enough to show the truth underneath.
"When you grow up without anyone to lean on, you learn to be the one other people can lean on. I think I decided early on that if something went wrong, I’d fix it.
That if someone I cared about needed help, I’d be the one who knew what to do.
" He glances down at me. "That day on the zipline? I promised myself I’d never leave you hanging again. "
There’s a lump in my throat now. It feels strangely like forgiveness.
"That’s a heavy promise for a scrawny little kid."
Brooks huffs a laugh. "I had a big heart. Still do."
"I know," I say quietly.
We’re steps away from the truck now, the moment hanging in the air between us, weighty but still warm.
"If you need to go back to LA," Brooks says, his voice steady, "I’ll keep showing up here. You don’t have to stay."
I wrap an arm around his waist, letting myself lean into him just a little. "Still the noble one, huh?"
He laughs, low and soft. "What can I say? It’s a curse."
I pause. "Thank you for offering, but this isn’t about owing or fixing. This is something I have to decide for me. Not out of guilt. Not out of obligation."
Brooks nods. "I get that. But I just wanted you to know... whatever you choose, I’m here. I’ve got your back."
I raise an eyebrow. "What about Jasper?"
Brooks shrugs. "I’ve got his, too. I’m not a one-back kind of guy."
I laugh despite myself, my heart squeezing in that weird, confusing way it always does around him.
We get into the truck, the tension no longer heavy between us.
The engine hums, the road opens, and the question of what comes next roars louder than the wind.