Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (22 page)

My feet carry me quickly, and I grab the phone on my way to landing on the bed.

“’Sup?”

Grady’s responding chuckle warms my insides. “Plans today?”

Today? No, tonight . . . hopefully.

I grin into the receiver and answer honestly, “Nope.”

I can hear the smile in Grady’s voice when he speaks. “Well, you do now. If you’re free, that is.”

“It’s Sunday. You know I’m free.”

“I do. So I’ve taken the liberty of planning something fun for us to do together today. If you trust me enough, that is.”

My mind goes straight to sex, of course, then I reel it back to consider his statement.

More silence ensues, and Grady being Grady, waits patiently for my answer. I relive the last month, the times he’s pushed me to see the good in myself, the tender moments we’ve shared as I opened myself up to him in a painstakingly slow manner, and his caring in waiting for me to do so. I know without a doubt, I trust this man.

“I trust you,” I answer.

Grady exhales into the phone. “Good, because you’re going to need to for this.”

My brows hit the ceiling with that cryptic revelation. “What exactly
are
we doing?”

More laughter fills my ear before he evades, “I have a couple errands to run, so meet me here at two. We’ll go together from my apartment.”

“Grady,” I draw suspiciously and repeat, “what are we doing?”

Grady answers in a very Grady-like manner, “Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

I say nothing. My mind is lost, searching the list of infinite possibilities.

Grady chuckles once more, then concludes, “See ya at two. Don’t be late.”

“Grady,” I screech into the phone, but there’s no answer.

My mouth pinches to the side as I look at the time on the screen. He has given me exactly one hour to get ready for a date in which I have no idea what we’re doing. How in the hell am I supposed to dress?

I growl, tossing my cell onto my comforter, then stand and walk to my closet. Knowing Grady, it’s not going to be something as simple as dinner. Hanging out at his apartment is one thing, but the couple times we’ve gone anywhere, it’s been something completely crazy.

Case in point, skating. And sparring.

I narrow my eyes at my various outfits.

If it’s rock-climbing, I’m going to kill him.

I hate heights.

Yanking a pair of jeans off the hanger, I hold them firmly within my grasp, eyeing the several sleek dresses hanging off to the side. I look back down at the jeans, then sigh in resignation. After apologizing to my heels, and promising to wear them soon, I grab the only pair of tennis shoes I own—a pair of black Chuck Taylors—and rummage through my drawers until I find the perfect T-shirt.

I laugh out loud then tug it on before yanking on my jeans and tying my Chucks. Heading into the bathroom, I do make a decent attempt on my hair, curling the ends until the brown tousled waves are perfectly imperfect. After applying a light, shimmery shadow to my lids, I add a coat of mascara to my eyes, and a subtle beige gloss to my lips. Looking at my reflection, I grin, surprised by my approval of the understated appearance I’m donning this afternoon. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m comfortable, relaxed in my own skin.

The feeling is . . .
immeasurable
.

And I owe it all to Grady.

His perseverance. His persistence.

His . . . everything.

Noting I now have exactly twenty minutes to get to Grady’s, I grab my phone and purse, fingering blindly for my keys, before setting the alarm and locking the apartment. Eagerness begins a flurry in my stomach as I head to my Jeep, and by the time I’m pulling in to Grady’s I’m practically bouncing in my seat.

Grinning the entire way up the cement steps, I land myself right in front of Grady’s door.

Knocking twice, I wait for him to answer, stubborn smile still on my face.

The locks click over and Grady whips the door open, the excitement in those blue eyes rivaling my own. Then, his stare drifts to my shirt, which reads “Wanna See My Ninja?”

His shoulders bob and he shakes his head, a breathtaking smile overtaking his features. “Dare I ask?”

My brows lift expectedly as I respond, “Would you
like
to see my ninja?”

His eyes rise to meet mine and a dip of his head is all it takes. My smile widens. “All right, but remember, you asked for it.”

I lift the front of my shirt and hook it over the top of my head, displaying what’s printed on the inside as a ninja mask slides down over my face. Then, I step back, lowering into a crouching position and swipe through the air, performing multiple karate chops just in case he missed the joke.

Which, judging by the sound of his laughter, he did not.

A warm arm snags me by the waist, pulling my body into a very hard chest—which smells delicious by the way—and hauls me safely into Grady’s apartment.

His voice is full of amusement as he states for the umpteenth time since knowing me, “I cannot believe you just did that.”

I grin into the safety of my ninja mask before it’s whipped back over my head. My shirt falls to my waist and fresh air hits my face. Meeting Grady’s laughter-filled expression, he adds, “Sweetheart, as much as I love your tits, I gotta say, I’m loving that smile even more.”

Had it really been a month since he’d said those words?

I want to know what makes you smile, how to make you smile, and how to keep that smile a permanent fixture on that gorgeous face of yours.

Does he realize he
has
achieved his goal?

The usual murmurs of doubt and whispers of self-loathing rush forth, but I capture them and shove them aside with strength I never thought possible.

They quiet immediately and I grin inwardly then, with a sense of pride, outwardly too.

Grady bends, planting a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth and releases me. “Still love the tits though; do not mistake what I’m saying. I’ll make sure to show them how much later, but for now, we’ve got to go.”

“’Kay,” I concede, laughing.

As always when I’m with Grady, I’m blown away by my natural ease when in his presence. I’ve never felt so carefree, so able to have fun and smile without worry of how I will be perceived.

I watch the returning smile on his face as he so effortlessly affirms and actually compliments this ridiculous behaviour, and I can’t help but grin even wider.

His eyes fall to my mouth and he winks in response, then hooks my finger with his, leading us out of the apartment.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m no longer smiling.

I’m petrified.

My fingers are clearly demonstrating this as they dig into the leather of Grady’s seat when we finally park.

I turn to him, eyes wide. “You’re fucking crazy.”

He grins, then retorts, “Ah, but crazy is such a subjective term.”

“This isn’t funny, Grady. There is nothing humorous about this, at all.”

“I beg to differ,” he declares, then laughs outright when my eyes narrow into a threatening stare.

“Cass—”

“There is absolutely
no fucking way
I am jumping out of an airplane with you,” I shriek.

Grady shifts in his seat, bringing his face closer to mine. Void of humor he asks, “Do you trust me?”

I scoff, trying to buy more time with my non-answer. “What?”

He cocks a brow and angles his head. “If you jump, you will be jumping tandem with me. So I need to know, do you trust that I will land you safely? Because, Cass, on my life, I will guide you to safety, and we will land together. But you have to trust I can do that, that I
will
do that.”

My mouth shifts to the side, and I nibble my bottom lip, pondering my answer. “You said, ‘If I jump,’ so I have a choice?”

His expression is one of determination as he replies, “You
always
have a choice. It’s up to you. You can take this jump with me, a jump that has the potential to change your life, or you can say the word and I’ll take you back to the apartment.”

He raises his hand, brushing my hair away from my face, then cups my chin with his fingers. “But sometimes, Cass, you have to find the courage to take that leap. The fall may be scary as hell, but the landing is what really matters. Once your feet hit the ground, you know that no matter how afraid you were, you landed. You survived. You faced that fear, and you fucking conquered it. And in that moment, you’re awarded a sense of peace in knowing there’s absolutely nothing that can be thrown at you that you can’t handle.”

His mouth quirks at the side as he concludes, “I want that for you, and I want to help you do that. But I need your trust to get you there.”

My lips curl into themselves and I inhale a long, deep breath. I hold his unwavering gaze as he watches me closely.

My eyes flick to a plane as it takes off into the air. I think about my past, about the nights spent in absolute terror, about how I would have given anything to be free from the chains bound upon me at such a young age. And here, Grady is offering me a way—albeit a fucking insane one—to possibly break free from them forever.

And for the first time since my childhood, the voices remain silent without my interference. I feel renewed, inundated in strength with the awareness of their non-existence.

Minutes pass, then finally I slide my eyes back in Grady’s direction. I exhale at length, releasing my breath as I surrender to his request, knowing he’s making progress with me and praying he will continue with his plight.

“Get me there, Grady.”

WIND IS WHIPPING THROUGH
my hair, mercilessly slapping me in the face, most likely trying to knock some sense into me. I can’t tear my eyes away from the drop we’re about to make as Grady and I stand at the open door of the plane, harnessed together. I imagine his face though, beautifully stoic, completely unaffected by the fact we’re . . . how high?

“Um, how high are we, exactly?” I yell over my shoulder. The sound of the plane’s engine and the massive gusts of wind make it practically impossible to hear myself speak. Grady’s lips hit my ear and his strong voice booms as he responds, “About 10,000 feet.”

“Oh, is that all?” I mutter under my breath then swallow the anxiety churning in my stomach as it makes its way up my throat.

Grady’s arm envelops my waist, strong and firm as he tugs me into his body. “It’s time. Ready to jump?”

Tremors wreak havoc on my entire body as the words leave his mouth. My eyes slam shut and I inhale deeply in an attempt to control the quaking. Thank God I’m bound to Grady right now, because I’m pretty sure he’s holding every ounce of my weight. My legs have officially checked right the fuck out of this situation. And as I open my eyes, taking another look out of the plane, I’m pretty sure my mind is right behind them.

Nerves constrict my throat, and the edges of my vision begin to darken. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Grady instructs, “Cross your arms over your chest and lift your feet. You will be hanging from me and I might need to lean out of the plane to view the ground. Go ahead and rest your head back onto my shoulder if you don’t want to look.”

Fuck. This. Insanity.

My legs snap to attention and fly to my chest at the invitation to get the hell off this ride. I cross my arms right above them, gripping the straps of my harness so tightly I can no longer feel my fingers. With my eyes cemented shut, I force my head back, feeling the rustle of Grady’s body behind me. Together, we dip forward, and I squeal in anticipation for the jump, but it never comes.

Grady leans us back into the plane, and my heart is racing so fast, I’m certain I’m having a full-on heart attack. Just as I’m about to communicate this information, we shift forward, and once again I’m hanging out of the plane, tethered to Grady’s chest. Another high-pitched shriek escapes my throat, but as before, there is no jump.

Frustration builds as my poor heart hammers, pounding so hard I feel each beat in my throat. As we slink our way back into the plane, I bite through clenched teeth, “One more time, Grady. One more time and I swear to God I will die of a heart attack before we hit the ground.”