Jen McLaughlin: Out of Time

She probably would. She’d always said she loved seeing me out there, climbing higher and higher as if I already owned the world. I used to think I did back then. I stood up and helped her stand. “All right. But it’s been years, so I’m probably not going to be the best teacher.”

“I don’t care.” She laughed and headed for the door, her step already lighter. She picked up her helmet and grinned at me, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. “It’ll be fun. Just you and me and the memory of your mom. Maybe I’ll even take a video, love.”

I swallowed hard and picked up my phone. I shot a quick text to her dad, then shoved it into my pocket. He’d been a little quiet lately. Must be busy working.

But still. Weird.

“Yeah. Fun.” I grabbed my motorcycle keys and my helmet. “So, we’ll need to make sure the place supplies the helmets, elbow guards, and knee pads.”

“Or we could just climb.” She opened the door. “I’ll hardly be going that high. I think I’ll be all right without all the padding.”

I considered this, but shook my head. “I have a feeling they require safety equipment.”

“Finn.” She sighed. “Don’t be my dad. You know I have enough of that in my life. I’ve already surfed and rode a bike. What’s a little harmless rock climbing?”

She had a point, but it was my job to keep her safe. I sighed and followed her down the stairs. “Be that as it may, you will still need protection. They won’t let you climb up without it. You might want to be free and wild, but they’ll disagree.”

“If they do, I’ll listen to them.” She pulled her helmet down over her head. “Just not you.”

“Wow.” I frowned at her. “I love you, too,” I muttered.

She snorted. “Stop pouting . I’ll probably fall off as soon as I get off the ground, which is why they make you wear a harness thingy,” she said, motioning for me to get on the bike. “I wouldn’t worry about me going too high up.”

“Not helping my confidence here.” I revved the bike. “Climb on, Ginger.”

“Later, maybe,” she replied, climbing onto the bike and holding tight. She yelled over the engine of my Harley. “But first, we rock climb!”

I laughed, loving her enthusiasm. She always dived in to new things with wide-open arms, never showing a hint of fear. Hell, she’d even done that with me. Just kind of opened up and accepted me for what I was. That never ceased to amaze me.

The whole ride to the closest rock climbing gym—a quick Google search had showed me the one I used to go to still existed—she held on to me, leaning when I leaned, resting while I rested. She had the bike thing down more perfectly than some drivers did. Maybe some day I’d teach her how to drive this thing. I bet she’d like that.

I parked and we went inside. It took all of five minutes for us to pay, then we were strapped into the harnesses and standing in front of a wall that looked a lot higher than I remembered.

“Okay, you put one foot on and kind of push up like this.” I did what I described and climbed up a little unsteadily, almost catching myself off guard. Hell, it had been a long time for me. “But make sure to hold on tight with your hands while spreading them—but not too far. You don’t want to throw off the balance.”

She watched me, her brow furrowed, then did as I said. She set one foot up high, tested her weight, but then righted herself. She lifted her other foot, her brow furrowed with concentration. “Like this?”

“Yep.” I climbed up a little higher again. “Do it again.”

She did it, much more steadily this time. “It’s almost rope climbing, only you’re stepping instead of wrapping yourself around something.”

“Except the wall,” I said dryly.

“Well, duh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

I stretched my arms and took another step higher. “Attitude, Ginger. Attitude.”

“Now you’re just showing off.” She followed me, going a lot faster this time. I wanted to grab her and steady her when she wobbled, but I clenched my fists and let her do it for herself. She needed this. “Look, that was pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah, it was.” I grinned at her. “Watch this.”

I climbed double the length that I’d been doing, stretching my muscles as far as they could go without falling off the damn wall. She laughed, her eyes shining. “I can do that, too.”

I side-eyed her. “You think?”

“Dude.” She pursed her lips and looked to the top of the wall. “What is the worst that can happen? I fall and the harness catches me? Somehow I think I’ll survive.”

I shook my head. “Fine. It’s your ass, not mine.”

Technically, it was mine, too. I was supposed to be protecting her, not taking her rock climbing, but whatever. The girl needed to live, for fuck’s sake.

She’d spent her whole life being watched by men like me not letting her step out of line for even a second. Now she was able to do so. I might be watching her, but I’d be damned if I suffocated her like her father.

We spent the next half hour climbing higher and higher, then we practiced climbing down. She slipped and fell more times than I could count—fine, it was seven—before we finally called it quits. I let her be the one to decide when she’d had enough.

She stood at the bottom of the wall after her last fall, snapping pictures and a few videos with her phone. Her laugh rang loud and clear as I descended to join her. She was so fucking bright and happy. She really was the sun to me.

The only thing that brought true brightness to my world.

I pushed back off the wall, landing nimbly on my feet, and she clapped, her phone held in her hand. “I got the perfect shot of that.” She walked over and held out her phone. “And now I have a wallpaper for my phone, too. Nice, huh?”

It was of me in midair, about to land. It was a pretty cool shot. “Good one.”

“Thanks. But I’m hungry now,” she said, tucking her phone away. “You ready for some burgers or something?”

“McDonald’s or Islands?” I asked, unclicking my harness and grabbing her hand. “You can pick tonight.”

After we cleaned up and squared off with the workers, we walked toward my bike, her under my arm. “I think I’m gonna have to go Islands.”

I grinned. “Did I convert you?”

“Maybe.” She pointed a finger at me and glared, but the effect was ruined by how damn happy she looked. “But I’ll forever be a McDonald’s girl, too.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say, Ginger. Whatever you say.”

The next morning I woke up to Carrie climbing on top of me, kissing me until I forgot what the hell color the sky was. Her hands moved all over me, slowly waking me up, and by the time we were finished with each other, I was exhausted and naked and sweaty. I looked over at her and grinned at the smug smile on her face.

“More distraction, I see.” I tapped her nose. “You look awfully proud of yourself.”

“That’s probably because I’m feeling pretty darn proud of myself.”

She rolled over on her side, folded her hands under her cheek, and smiled at me. Something in her eyes pulled at me. Told me that beneath the smile and laughter was fear. Lots of fear.

But how could she manage to look so sad while still looking so damn happy?

“Get over here,” I said.

When I opened my arms, she rolled into them and closed her arms around me. I held her for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness, not needing to talk. It was nice having a person with you where you didn’t feel the need to blabber on and on just to fill the silence. As I was beginning to wonder if she fell asleep, she sighed and squirmed.

I played with her hair. I was beginning to think I had a hair fetish when it came to her. I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. “Hey, you want to go out on a date tonight? Are you all caught up on your homework and shit?”