Make Me Risk It by Beth Kery Page A

completely.”
    “Dogs,” she admitted after a pause, sighing. “That’s why I got a little freaked out when Charger
charged
me on the beach.”
    His eyebrows went up. “So the fears weren’t completely eradicated.”
    “You saw me with all your dogs. Lots of people would jump if a large animal ran at them, but I keep it under control. I can manage my anxiety.”
    “Right,” he murmured. The plane turned onto the runway. He was looking at her intently, stroking her hand with his thumb, seemingly unaware when the plane began to speed up for takeoff. “Was there anything else?”
    “Crowds. Being out in public.”
    “You were agoraphobic?”
    “Yes. School phobic, too, because of it,” she said, looking away from his incising stare . . . feeling a little stupid. Embarrassed. She cleared her throat, reminding herself she was a grown woman now and was no longer that frightened girl. “I was never really afraid of people, per se, it was being
out
that got to me. I felt vulnerable. Exposed. I missed a good part of the seventh grade, because of it. Between doing the schoolwork at home, tutoring, and summer school, I was able to enter the eighth grade with my original class. Although, even in the eighth grade, my attendance was still a little problematic. By my sophomore year or so, the worst of my anxieties were past. I joined the school newspaper and the creative writing club.” She shrugged. “Writing kind of brought me out of my shell.”
    “That’s a lot of time lost. Do you regret it?”
    “Sure. A whole chunk of my childhood was taken from me.” The plane lifted from the ground and began hurtling through empty space. The engines hummed loudly in her ears.
    “Why?” he asked.
    “Why what?”
    “Isn’t there usually a precipitating event to phobias like you had? Some kind of trauma?” he probed.
    She focused on him, slightly incredulous that he expected her to spill her vulnerabilities. “Sometimes, but not necessarily. Why are you so curious about my teenage neuroses?
Are
you worried they’re going to make a reappearance?”
    “No. I’m just interested. I want to know you better.”
    She gave him a
seriously?
glance. His expression flattened, and she knew he’d just recalled their conversation from last night, the one where he’d told her firmly he didn’t discuss his past.
    “I get it,” he said, his mouth pressed into a hard line. “I’m not allowed to question you about your past if—”
    “You won’t let me do the same about yours? I’m actually okay with you asking, Jacob. It’d be nice if you at least recognized the double standard, though.”
    He looked out the window, his face turned in profile. In the distance, she saw the Sierra Nevada mountains falling away from them.
    “But not of heights,” she heard him say very quietly.
    “Excuse me?”
    “You weren’t afraid of heights,” he clarified. At first, she was puzzled by his statement, but after a moment, she considered it seriously.
    “I used to be pretty nervous about heights, when I was really little,” she replied thoughtfully, examining their clasped hands where they rested on his long, solid thigh.
    “But not anymore?” Jacob asked. She realized she’d sounded a little wistful, and that he’d turned and was peering at her.
    “No,” she replied softly. “Not anymore.”
    “Your father cured you of that fear, too?”
    “Not my father. Someone else.”
    From the periphery of her vision, she saw him open his mouth. He closed it without speaking. She stared out the window as they soared through the air, only feeling a sense of calm power as he held her hand tightly in his.
    * * *
    Twenty Years Ago
    When Jake opened his eyes the next morning at dawn, it was like waking up in a different body. A different world. His nose was buried in Harper’s soft hair. It smelled of hay from the loft, and peaches. They were on their sides, her back pressed against his front. He held her against him with one arm