Wallflower Ink

Chapter 39

"Almost there," he says after finishing his tale, and my heart does a sudden quickstep in my chest.

I take a long slow breath to calm it then let it out slowly, just as Jace had coached me so many times. At the thought of him, my smile fades and I look out the window to hide the sudden tears that sting my eyes.

Will my family tell him? Will he even want to know?

It doesn't matter. Soon all such questions as these will be moot, and I will no longer have to worry about them catching me unawares to reignite my sadness. All I know is that he had cared for me once, but I forced his feeling to change with my thoughtlessness. But it really is better this way. I could never have been good for him in the way he had hoped.

As the last few miles pass in silence, I empty my mind of those fruitless thoughts--of the could-have-beens and what-ifs--focusing instead on what is to come and the harsh reality that it is approaching very quickly now.

"We're here," Byron says as he turns on his blinker and begins to slow his truck for the turn.

I look to the upcoming road on our right then let my gaze follow it to the buildings and runway beyond. This is it, my last hoorah and my final tribute to Joey. I watch as the hangars grow bigger, the buildings get larger, and the runway lengthens.

For the first time since I decided to do this it is finally feeling real. The familiar tightness draws around my chest, as if the harness is already in place and being slowly cinched too tight. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing on keeping my breathing steady. I swallow against the constricting of my throat then take another deep breath.

I can't let my panic win, not today. This is far too important to me. But as Byron pulls into the lot and shuts off the engine, that all too familiar gnawing begins somewhere around my heart, sending it into the beginnings of its habitual frenzy to escape. I wish Jace was here, he would be able to help me do this. But he isn't. I have to figure out how to do this on my own.

"You ready for this?" Byron asks, reaching over to lay one hand gently on my shoulder.

I nod my head, fearing he might hear the rising terror in my voice if I try to speak. He gives me a single quick nod, then opens his door and gets out. It takes me a moment longer to open my own; once I do, I step out of the truck on legs that are not nearly as confident as I would like them to be.

I join Byron on his side of the truck and we make our way to a small building to the left of the first hangar together. He opens the door then leads me inside.

Near the other end of the spacious room we've entered huddles a small group of people, no doubt the other student jumpers judging by the excited hum of conversation that permeates the group. Just a bit off from them to the right stands another group: the instructors. As Byron leads me to the second group I stop.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I say, my voice suddenly hoarse.

"Bathroom's right over there." He points to the left of the students then gives me a gentle shove in that direction. "Better be quick. They'll want to meet you before everything gets going."

I nod then turn and make my way quickly toward the restroom sign. Once inside, I stop at a sink then turn on the cold water and splash some on my face. For a moment I just hang my head, letting the water drip from my nose and chin. I can do this, I think to myself. But my trip hammer heart tries to convince me otherwise.