I smile at that. “Legend has it it’s haunted.” I cast him a quick look. “That when it was built, a few of the guys got trapped inside the concrete. They say you can still hear their screams sometimes.”

“That so?”

I nod. Resting my hands on the wall, I swing my leg, welcoming the disorientation of weightlessness. The tease of free fall. “They used to call it Freedom Bridge. Because they say the men who were trapped would lure anyone who came up here to their death. That through the arches, through the wind whistling, you could hear their chants. Jump, jump, jump.”

A beat passes. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s bullshit. The whole”—I wave a hand—“siren-esqueness of it all. It’s true a man died up here during its construction—equipment malfunction, or something or other—but it’s highly unlikely anyone was entombed in this thing.”

“Yeah,” Will says thoughtfully, frowning at some distant, unseen spot, “I think I read about that once. Something about air pockets?”

“Exactly. There’s no way this thing wouldn’t have collapsed at some point had there been any bodies trapped inside.”

Somewhere, 300 feet below us, what sounds like a freight truck rumbles to life as the world slowly begins waking up. “If anything, it was all the suicides that made this thing haunted.”

He clears his throat. “I thought you said it was bullshit.”

I shoot him a look. “I never said I didn’t believe in bad energy.”

He nods slowly, still looking off into the sunrise, an unreadable look on his face. And that’s when it hits me.

“Shit,” I breathe. I shake my head rapidly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just—” I seal my mouth shut as comprehension smooths out the lines in Will’s forehead.

“You know.”

I cringe and look away.

“How?”

I rub a hand over my chest. “I might have...looked you up. The other day. I was curious after—”

“After what?”

I give him a long sideways glance, not quite sure what to make of his tone. “Mason was giving me shit for being an asshole to you, and I just...” I shrug and look away. I can’t look at him when I say this part. “I wanted to know what your deal was. I have trust issues, okay? Obviously. I just...I wanted to make sure you weren’t fucking with Mason.” Or me.

I follow a bird as it bursts from the trees. A blot of ink winking in and out against the pale, butter yellow sky. Silence lingers, and it’s not quite as easy as it once was. Then again, is it ever truly easy when it’s just Will and me?

“So, what, you thought I lied?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.

He sighs raggedly. “That’s fucked up.”