Rolling my eyes, I have no idea why he’s so upset. Although scoring a ride back works to my benefit. It shouldn’t take him long, maybe ten minutes max. I bend down to look at the run in my tights. Damn. These were my best ones, too.

I stand around and then lean against a tree, but my feet still hurt even after slipping my shoes back on. I’m sure Harbor’s hitting every red light, putting him in a worse mood than he already sounded like he was in. Not that Beacon has many lights, but I almost expected him to drive Cullen-style, pulling up with a skid.

I’m a little disappointed.

I laugh as I sit down with my legs dangling over the edge again. It’s far more dangerous for me to stand on the side of the road than to lie here with my arms wide and eyes closed, basking in the blue sky and warmth of the day.

It’s also more enjoyable.

“Lark!” Pebbles fly toward me as he runs in my direction.

Sitting up, I smile when I see Harbor running toward me, slowing when he gets close. “Hey there,” I say, but then terror fills my insides when I get a better look at his face. I look over my shoulder to make sure nothing’s there because it makes no sense why he looks like he just saw a ghost.

27

Lark

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice as grave as his skin.

I stay where I am, too afraid to take even a step. “Why?” I ask, my voice trembling.

His gaze keeps darting between me and the edge like someone’s standing there. “You’re scaring me, Harbor. What is it?” With my arms wide from my sides, I slowly turn my head to look behind me again. There’s nothing there. Nothing but the rocks, the lake, and the sky.

The wind picks up, causing me to wobble in the breeze. “Whoa!” I overcorrect, making it worse and sending my right leg into the air. “Oh my God, Harbor!”

“Lark!” He lunges, just as I catch my balance right on the edge. His arms come around me, holding me so tight that I can’t see around him.

I grip his shirt and try to regulate my breathing because my gut tells me something’s wrong. His heart is pounding, and his silence is deafening. He barely moves, but I feel his mouth against my head, his breath warm compared to the air. He kisses me, and then whispers, “Don’t. Move.”

I don’t either except for the hair on my head when the wind blows through the strands. I don’t even breathe, waiting for him to tell me what to do. We stand there too long, not taking any steps away, so I ask, “Is it safe?”

His heart is beating in overdrive, so when he doesn’t answer, I slowly turn to look up at his face. His gaze is locked in a standoff he’s determined to win. I follow it over the cliff to a small ledge about ten feet below and suck in a harsh breath.