Lark whispers, “It must have been terrifying.”

It’s not a word I would use often, but she nailed how I felt back then. “He was starting to bounce, anxiety getting the better of him. He was erratic and kept grabbing my shirt, wanting me to listen. I was listening, man. I was listening.” I glance at her again, and this time, her eyes meet mine. “He brought up the pact.”

“Harbor . . .” I can’t tell if it’s a cry of sympathy or a warning to stop.

“I’m sorry. I can stop.”

“No. I don’t want you to. It just hurts to know you carried this secret all on your own.” She takes my hand and brings it to her mouth. When she presses her lips to the top of it, I close my eyes and savor everything about it, about her, at this moment. I may not get another.

“Lucas was convinced that day was the day we needed to hold each other accountable for the pact. He was determined to make me keep my promise.” My knee is bouncing. I wish it were daylight so I had something steady to set my eyes on. Fisting and releasing, stretching my fingers, I fist again and repeat as anxiety rebuilds from that day. “He just kept swearing that I swore my life that night, grabbing my hand to show me the scar.”

A tear rolls down Lark’s cheek. I reach to wipe it away for her, but then I pause. She gives my hand a little squeeze and the green light. I gently catch the tear and hold it to my lips, tasting her for the first time in what feels like forever. The tears she cries for me give me strength, knowing she still cares. “He went to the edge and told me he didn’t want to live this life anymore. When I went to stop him, he grabbed my shirt to take me with him.”

With a gasp, she jumps to her feet and throws her arms around me. “That’s horrible, babe.” The wine spills, but neither of us cares. As I pull her onto my lap, this woman I never stopped loving, I know what saved that day and again years later. She did.

Her tears seep through my shirt, but she doesn’t hold back, just like the name she called me. We’re bonded more than she used to think. We always will be.

I hold her tightly to me, and say, “He jumped, but I fell. My life was inexplicably tied to his that day. He hit his head, not clearing the cliff, and I fell on my back fifteen feet below Devil’s Edge, landing on a ledge.” I exhale and set her back on the bench. As much as I want to hold her again, I need space to work this out not just in my head but also around me.

I say, “I broke a leg and most of my ribs on one side, but I held Lucas in my arms until he died. It wasn’t long, probably ten minutes, but I was stuck there for hours praying I’d be saved.”