Too Long: Hayes Brothers Book 6

BY THE TIME HENRY AND I reach the cliff, it’s dark outside. We’re tearing through trees, guided by voices from the west.

“Come on, pumpkin, you can do it. It’s not that far,” Grant coaxes, his tone chilling me to the bone.

I can’t see them, but he sounds so fucking scared my throat tightens.

“No!” Addie yelps, her voice echoing through the dense forest. “Don’t get on the bridge! It’ll snap!”

“It’ll be fine, I promise. You need to calm down. I’ll come and get you, just don’t—”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Henry and I break into a sprint as we cross the tree line. We emerge on top of the hill, the bridge looming in the distance. There are people on both sides, everyone using the flashlights on their phones to illuminate Addie.

She sits halfway across, clinging to the ropes, her cheeks wet with tears, body shaking so hard it swings the bridge. The motion only freaks her out more.

Grant’s on the other side, down on his knees as he beckons Addie over. He inches closer, poised to get her, but Addie screams again, panic seizing her mind.

“Do not get on the bridge!” I can hear she’s trying to hold onto control, but her voice cracks so much it’s obvious she’s failing.

She’s too frightened to think clearly. Her cheeks are white like dough, eyes big. The bridge isn’t long. Thirty, maybe forty feet across, the drop about fifty.

Olympic divers jump from thirty-three feet. It’s doable, but I doubt Addie’s in the right mind to think about body positioning in case anything goes wrong.

“Get the helicopter, you knobhead!” she wails, jerking her hand at Grant. The sudden movement swings the bridge harder. A bone-chilling shriek breaks from her chest, the sound ripping me wide fucking open. She clings to the ropes, eyes squeezed tight. “It’s your fault I’m here!”

“Oh please, darling, stop making such a scene,” her mother says.

Grant swings her way. I can’t see his face in the dark, but his tone proves that, in this moment, we’re on the same page.

“You’re not helping, Victoria. Can’t you see she’s scared?” A beam of light from someone’s phone catches him as he turns back to Addie, his mouth parted in shock, face paler than fucking pale. “Come on, pumpkin, it’s not that far. Just don’t look down. You can do it, I promise. You’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying. Coaxing and begging won’t get her moving. Grant’s tone doesn’t evoke any sense of safety or trust.

He sounds as panicked as she is. He’s confirming her fears, making it clear the bridge isn’t safe and she’s stuck.

No wonder Addie doesn’t trust him to keep her safe.

“Addie!” Henry booms, overtaking me. “Hold on! I’ll get you off there!”

“No!” she screams, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “Don’t get on the bridge!”

I catch up when he’s two steps away from barreling onto the flimsy planks and yank him back by the collar of his shirt, almost knocking him ass-first to the ground.

“I’m sorry, but…” I point at a plaque nailed to the wooden pole supporting the bridge. “It says one person at a time. The ropes might not hold both of you.”

I don’t mention that, by the look of things, this bridge hasn’t been used in years. The greenery surrounding the cliff is undisturbed, no trace of footprints or worn paths on either side.

Henry straightens his shirt, dread welling in his eyes. I pinch my lips, the distressed whimpers coming from Addie driving me half fucking insane.

Showing her I’m worried won’t help.

She needs to know I’m in control. That I can get her across safely. But it’ll be a façade. Inside, I’m so scared my heart’s leaping out of my chest.

I can’t fucking reach her…

“What are you waiting for?!” Addie yells at Grant again. “Get the helicopter, you daft git! Lift me out of here!” Then she turns to me, too abruptly, making the bridge lurch violently. “Where the hell have you been?! Don’t just stand there like an idiot! Do something!”

“Watch your mouth,” I snap, marshaling my rising fear. “Screaming and crying won’t help. Are you hurt?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Grant yells. “Don’t talk to her like that! How is that helping?!”

Henry places a firm hand on my shoulder. “I don’t like him, but I like your tone even less.”

I turn my back to Addie, lowering my voice. “She’s scared, Henry. If I show her I’m scared, she’ll panic more. She needs to believe I’m in control, that I can get her across. You need to trust me on this.”

He narrows his eyes, his jaw working in small circles before he nods.

“I asked you a question,” I tell Addie, taking a firm stance at the edge of the bridge so I can grab her as soon as she’s close enough. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes! I’m scratched, bruised, tired, thirsty and—”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking. Focus, Audrey. Yes or no. Are you hurt?”

She doesn’t answer, rubbing her face against her shoulder in an effort to wipe her tears away. She looks down, and her grip tightens on the ropes she can’t let go of, prompting fresh tears to trickle down her cheeks.

“Eyes. On. Me.” I emphasize each word. “Right now.”

There’s a pause in her whimpers as her head snaps my way, eyebrows raised, breath caught in her throat. “I-I’m… I’m not hurt. Not badly.”

“Good girl.” The praise pulls her attention more my way. Her focus sharpens as she angles her body toward me.

“She’s not a dog!” Grant booms, jumping to his feet. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

Grating my teeth, I ignore the ass-kisser. “You know the bridge might not hold two people, Addie,” I continue, my eyes not leaving hers, “and there are too many trees to bring a helicopter in. You need to walk.”

She bites her bottom lip, shutting her eyes. “I-I can’t move. I can’t, I—”

“Eyes, Audrey,” I urge with the same impatient, crude voice I used to get her on her knees. “You can and you will. You trust me. You’ll do exactly as I say. Start with three deep breaths.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot Grant testing the first plank, leaning half his body’s weight on it. He mutters something under his breath, taking the first step.

“Either you turn back, or you’ll get another black eye to match as soon as I can reach your face, and this time, you’ll lose your teeth,” I warn, the protective instinct surging through me. “Don’t fucking test me.”

Victoria gasps but seeing that her daughter’s finally stopped sobbing, I think she’s willing to give my methods a try.

She doesn’t like me. That much is known. She has way too much to say about Addie’s life choices, too, but despite having a weird way of showing it, she does care about her daughter.

She grips Grant’s arm, shaking her head to keep him from crossing the bridge and possibly tumbling himself and Addie into the river.

“You got halfway across,” I continue, focusing back on Addie. “You’ve been sitting there for however long, and you’re fine. The bridge is safe. Tell me you understand that.”

Looking at the state of the construction, I doubt it’s safe, but it’s held her this far, so it can’t be as bad as it looks.

Instead of words, Addie takes another long pause, feeding off whatever strength she finds in my eyes.

With a pinch of her lips, she nods once.

“Good. You have two options. Either you crawl to me, or you walk. But before you say you’d rather crawl, remember that bridge will swing more if you’re on all fours.”

“It’ll swing if I get up,” she points out, her voice as brittle as those ropes look.

“Only for a moment. If you’re crawling, I won’t be able to grab your hand as soon as I can reach, so you’ll have to crawl all the way.”

There’s another reason I want her to stand. If the ropes give in, she has a much higher chance of surviving the drop if she’s vertical.

Her assessing eyes search the space between us, calculating the distance, and then her trembling hand lets go of the rope before she reaches out as far as she can. I do the same, showing her the gap between the tips of our fingers is less than fifteen feet.

I think she knows that once she grabs my hand, she’ll be safe because the next thing I know, she looks me right in my eyes, a sense of determination peeking through the fear.

“I’ll… I’ll walk.” She swallows hard, flexes her fingers, and bracing for the worst, rises to her feet.

The bridge sways out to the side.

Addie’s whimpers almost fucking gut me. Hiding how scared I am, how much I want to have her safe in my arms right fucking now might be the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do.

“Okay, now what?” she wails, standing on wobbly legs, clutching the ropes either side. “What if I fall? What if it snaps?”

“You’re panicking again.”

And I’m panicking with her.

The ropes holding the bridge are old, frayed in places. Even if everyone around grabs hold, there’s no way we can keep the bridge together if the ropes give in.

Adjusting my stance, I get in position. It might look like I’m getting a better footing, but in reality, I’m bracing to jump.

“It won’t snap,” I say firmly.

“What if it does?!”

Then I’m going down with you.

“We’ll have a problem if you don’t stop acting out. Eyes on me and walk.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I…” She swallows a gulp of air, taking the first step. “I’m walking.”

“It’s all about balance. Imagine you’re walking a tightrope with a book on your head.”

Her back straightens on cue. “I did that before. My etiquette tutor called it posture practice,” she says, distracting herself as she takes another step.

The distraction isn’t magic, unfortunately. With every small step and corresponding lurch of the bridge, Addie pales further, her whimpers growing in strength when, four steps in, she hits an insecure plank.

The cracking sound it makes as it starts to take her weight has my stomach flipping.

“Not that one,” I say, still managing to hold onto my commanding voice. “Take a wider step. You’re doing so good. Keep going.”

Every squeak of the ropes and groan of the planks accelerates my heartbeat. No one around speaks, as they watch Addie taking tentative steps toward me. She’s trembling like a scared rabbit but presses forward, one foot after another.

“Almost here.” I lean out as far as I can. “Grab me.”

As soon as she clasps my hand, I tug with all I’ve got. The force sends her straight into my arms and I spin her around, away from the edge. Relief rattles through us simultaneously, and Addie’s crying again.

“You’re okay,” I whisper, weaving my fingers into her hair. “You’re okay. Fuck, baby, you scared the hell out of me.” I curve her into my chest, tucking her head under my chin. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She nods, swallowing gulps of air. Fisting my t-shirt, she clings to me so hard I feel her galloping pulse as if it’s my own.

Maybe it is. My heart isn’t far off snapping my ribs.

It takes a minute before I tune into anything beyond Addie. More people arrived while I was focused solely on getting her across. Henry takes over, breaking my hold on his daughter and pulling her into his arms. I have half a mind to knock him the fuck out. I don’t want to let her go.

Once she’s calmed down enough to stop shaking, she shoves her hand down the front of her dress, retrieving the yellow flag, a small, exhausted smile on her lips.

“How many did we get?”

Henry pulls out the red and green flags Marco and I got, and Tia waves the blue one.

Addie’s smile widens as she gathers them all, holding her hand out for me to tie them around her wrist like bracelets. “I get to keep you for another day.”

Can you keep me for the rest of your life?