Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee

Epilogue

Gavin

First Eliott had proudly escorted me around the company party. I’d expected him to be the unsexy kind of stiff at a work function, but instead he’d shown me off, an arm curled around me. I’d taken a hundred mental snapshots of how fucking buttoned up he looked, because there was nothing I loved more than destroying the wrapping while I opened gifts. And Eliott Navarre was an elitist gift with the sexiest challenging glint in his eyes.

Second he’d snuck out of the party, which wasn’t rude but also wasn’t something he’d do under normal circumstances, and surprised me with a really swanky hotel room. We’d pretended to be enemy spies meeting up for a clandestine affair during a ball, fulfilling one of Eliott’s fantasies about us in suits fucking. Then we’d lounged in bathrobes until late into the night, when we’d melted into bed and he’d made love to me so well I might have cried.

Third he’d announced that there was a surprise within a surprise during breakfast. He’d handed me a duffel bag he packed for me and brought up to the room yesterday morning, and we’d put on casual workout clothes while he refused to say anything more.

Now we were headed southwest out of the city and it was making me crazy.

And Eliott was starting to look a little pale, his hands clenched around the wheel.

“Babe, are you about to throw up? Was it the fourth mini cinnamon roll you had?”

He offered me a tense, but genuine smile. “No, I’m fine. I’m just… a little nervous.”

I rolled my eyes and suggested, “Pretend you’re me.”

“That’s perfect advice under the circumstances,” he told me with a chuckle, relaxing a tiny bit. “You’ll understand and crack up when we get to our destination, trust me.”

“How much farther?”

Shoving my shoulder, he explained, “An hour. I know it’s a bit of a haul, but it’s going to be worth it. But I am nervous, and you’re antsy, so you need to distract me. You get twenty questions, no holds barred. Total honesty. But no follow-ups, no multiple-step questions.”

“Now I’m three times as intrigued as I was at the hotel!” I clapped my hands and then rubbed them together like a classic villain, plotting out my strategy before I started.

It was so tempting to ask him twenty explicit, hot questions about sex. But I had no idea what the surprise was, so I didn’t want to get both of us all wound up, only to have to wait hours before we could relieve the pressure. So I decided to take another approach.

“Would you rather have a buzz cut for the rest of your life or never drink wine again?”

“That’s a horrible scenario, but… I’d give up wine,” he replied. “My head is lumpy.”

I cracked up and asked, “Are you good at buying presents for loved ones?”

“No, I’m terrible,” he admitted with a huff of self-deprecation. “Too practical.”

His first gift to me had been a jewelry-making kit, which was good enough at the time, before we were in love. I imagined ripping open a present from him on my birthday this year, which was coming up, only to find a brand-new blow dryer. Instead of making me wince, the idea sparked warmth. “You pay attention to what people need, and you want to help make their lives easier,” I told him. “That sounds really nice, to me.”

“Keep it in mind when you get a standing mixer for our next anniversary,” he muttered.

“Try a subscription to a fancy porn site.”

He made a choking noise while his hands flexed around the wheel.

“It’s practical—masturbation is good for our health. It’s fun because I’ll share it with you,” I claimed, rolling my hips as best as I could while buckled in.

“Gavin,” he groaned, his loose athletic shorts stretching lovingly around his rising cock.

Relenting, especially since I’d meant to stay away from sex, I asked who his first celebrity crush was, and then kept it light and as nonsexual as I could manage. The miles and the minutes slipped by as we laughed and teased each other, neither of us keeping track of how many questions I’d asked or caring that I answered my own questions too.

When the GPS announced, “Turn right in a quarter mile,” I looked out the window.

Then I did a double-take, my mouth falling open in shock because I knew exactly where we were and what was in a quarter mile. My mind blown and my heart pounding, I shouted in excitement, “Skydiving? Holy shit, are you taking me skydiving right now?”

Eliott burst into loud laughter, only a little hysterical, and that’s when it really hit me: he wasn’t taking me skydiving, he was taking me skydiving, like, he was going to do it too.

“Are you serious?” I bounced in my seat like a little kid.

“As a heart attack,” he said deadpan, starting to look a little pasty again.

Once he parked, he said, “It’s really important to me that our relationship is balanced.”

“Good thing we’re both vers,” I teased.

He shot me a killing look. “You made the first move; I asked you out the first time. Three daring dates, three boring dates. I went to Barley’s party and you came to Camdon’s. But then you also hang out with my friends, you visit me at work, you moved into my condo, and you said I love you first. So it’s unbalanced, and I want to correct that.”

“You know that’s not how it works. We shouldn’t be keeping track,” I argued, horrified at the idea that he could possibly think he was a bad boyfriend in any way.

“I fucked up so bad at the historical village,” he went on stubbornly, staunch and unflinching in owning up to it. “I saw you at Camdon’s party and you just fit in there, seamlessly, swapping all these daredevil stories with my friends. All I could think was that I’ll never have as much in common with you as other people like my own friends. So at the historical village, I was determined to be boring and stuffy and aloof, to prove that I’d never be carefree or freewheeling or exciting. Trust me, I know it was stupid and self-sabotaging.”

I swallowed past a lump in my throat and angled over to catch his mouth in a kiss.

“Baby, it was stupid, because you have done nothing but prove to me that you like me just as I am… that you love me just the way I am,” he pushed out, voice tight.

“Yes, I do,” I agreed, my voice just as tight as his.

He nodded, mouth thinned in determination. “So let’s go skydiving.”

He got out of the car and I leaped out after him, barreling around the hood of the car to slam into him. My arms banded around his back and my mouth fused with his perfectly.

“Before I get too excited about this, you do know this isn’t necessary, right?” I had to check between damp kisses along his neck. “You make it sound like I moved in and spend time with your friends as some sort of sacrificial proof of something, when really, I wanted to. I want to live with you, and your friends are amazing. I want those deep friendships too.”

“It’s symbolic and romantic,” he insisted.

Unable to deny that it was, I kissed him again. It should have been silly, a stunt a teenager would pull to get someone to agree to give him a chance and go out with him. But it was more than that. He truly wanted to be my partner, with no imbalances between us, neither of us owing the other anything. What he really meant was he needed me to know all the way down and all the way across that he was with me because he wanted to be.

While I honestly knew that already, I could see that he didn’t yet.

This was a hell of a way to prove his commitment. Much more terrifying for him than offering me a ring or saying I do in front of people who loved him unconditionally already.

“So I have to do the beginner’s class first,” he said as we crossed the parking lot.

“I’ll do it with you,” I told him. “Not that I need it, but I can make sure you feel safe.”

He squeezed my hand and I opened the door for him, sighing in happiness.

The ritual of checking in, reviewing and signing the waivers, and taking a class seemed to really reassure and calm Eliott, which made sense given how much school he’d done. The class was methodical and no-nonsense, tailored to teaching people who would all do tandem jumps strapped to an instructor. It was about understanding the whys, not hows.

“You look hot in that jumpsuit,” I said once we’d geared up.

“You were like some stripper fantasy come to life the first time I watched you unzip one,” he murmured so that no one else would overhear, smirking at me. “Now quit flirting.”

Laughing, I smacked his ass and then off we went, going up in the plane.

As Eliott got paler and sweaty, more and more adrenaline pumped through me. Every time he crushed my hand in his grip, I laughed more and grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. I knew I should tell him it was okay if he didn’t jump, but I wanted the choice to be all his.

He would go first, and his eyes were giant and wild behind his goggles. But he was staying put, steady and determined and out to prove something to himself, for us. Everything we’d learned about ourselves and each other, and every way we’d loved each other with words and bodies, flashed in front of my eyes and echoed through my nerves.

Absolute certainty coalesced—this was my fate, like Lita had said, and it was beautiful.

I darted in close, ignoring the instructor strapped behind him, and dared him, “If you can do this without fainting or pissing yourself, I’ll marry you someday, Eliott Sycamore.”

And with that, he had to jump.

All the way down, he screamed, probably deafening the poor instructor. I vaulted out of the plane when it was my turn, feeling like a falling angel and a daredevil and the bravest, best boyfriend in the universe all at once, reveling in being alive. When I pulled the ripcord and my parachute opened, I shouted in exuberant exultation and looked around at the sky going on forever and the earth getting closer.

But all of those feelings were miniscule and wimpy compared with how it felt knowing that when I landed, Eliott would be right there, steady and refined, but secretly kinky. I hoped, as I fell towards the ground, that he’d tell me he wanted to marry me too, but even if he didn’t, I didn’t give a shit as long as he wanted me forever just the way I wanted him.

I grinned so big, the wind smacked at my teeth and made them over-sensitive.

And once I’d made a textbook landing, I strode towards Eliott as soon as I saw him.

He was already separated from the instructor and out of his gear, bent over puking his guts up while making epic horking noises. The whole thing made me love him even more, and it probably said something weird about me, but whatever.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I exclaimed happily as I bent over next to him.

Red-faced, seeming like he was done puking, his hanging head twisted toward me.

“I fucking hate skydiving,” he proclaimed with utterly perfect indignation.

“Maybe you’ll like scuba diving better,” I suggested, then snickered like an immature idiot when he dry heaved just hearing the idea, my whole body crackling with life.

“But now I can say I tried being a daredevil for one day,” he said. “And now I have definitive proof that you do know how to skydive properly and land in the right place.”

I let that dig against my skills slide, moving with him as he started to slowly raise his head and upper body, wondering if it would be fun to take pilates together.

Once he was upright and breathing evenly, I handed him paper towels and the travel-size mouthwash I’d carried in my jumpsuit.

After gargling the mouthwash, he asked, “Where did you get that?”

“They sell it at the center. I got it while you were in the bathroom.”

“Good thinking,” he said a little faintly as he stared around us almost blankly, as if he still couldn’t understand how he’d been on the ground, flying, then diving, now standing.

I let him take his time, content to stand there since the employees were gathering up everyone’s gear for us. Then I watched his muscles tense up—I knew without a doubt he was remembering what I’d said to him right before he jumped—and I held my breath.

“Gavin,” he said very slowly and carefully, as if he’d never said my name before.

“Eliott,” I mimicked, despite the sudden fear burning away the buzz from the jump.

Our eyes locked and I forgot how to do anything else but look at him, he was so captivating as his pale green eyes blazed at me. His expression tautened with deliberation and determination as he stated, “I didn’t faint. Or lose control of my body in any other way.”

I gulped and my feet shuffled, bringing me closer to him, drawn like a magnet. “No?”

“Not until my feet were on the ground and I threw up.”

He took my sharp chin in an unyielding hold and leaned in. “If,” he whispered, the single tantalizing word sexy and full of promises, desire coiling through me, “you don’t tell anyone that I lost my lunch after I skydived, I will marry you someday, Gavin Sycamore.”

“I’m so in love with you and you’re fucking perfect,” I declared, hugging him as hard as I could. “It means the world to me that you tried this, and no matter whether you try any of my other hobbies or not, I’ll stay in love with you, my clever, dirty, boring lawyer.”

He breathed raggedly, our cheeks pressed together. “My clever, dirty daredevil.”

“I landed in the right place that time, too, just like I did today,” I said after a minute.

“Oh really?” he asked, chuckling softly in amusement.

Drawing back, I grinned at him and stated, “Absolutely. I landed right beside you.”