Even If It Breaks Your Heart by Erin Hahn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Erin Hahn
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.6 MB
- Price: Free
CASE
“I’ll be honest, man, this is a lot higher than I’d thought it would be.”
Walker doesn’t say anything, but the word wuss hangs in the crisp night
air between us, hovering amid the clouded breath repeatedly pulled from
my chest. Fuck, I hate heights. Always have. I fight the urge to look down,
down, down, past my dusty boots dangling too many feet above the earth.
“Corn silo,” I mutter before turning to him. “You said corn silo, right?”
Wrapping a single arm around the cold metal frame, I accidentally clink the
glass bottle grasped in my freezing fingers against it. I lift an ass cheek and
dig with the other hand in my back pocket. I pull out a worn piece of paper
and use my teeth to unfold it, squinting and lifting it to the pale glow of
moonlight overhead.
“Right here. Jump off a corn silo,” I read aloud. I throw my head back
with a groan. “Fuck, we’re so stupid.” I glare at my best friend pointedly as
I start to shiver. I didn’t bring a coat up here. “Grain bin.” I gesture to the
wide metal bins approximately thirty feet below me. “You meant jump off a
grain silo. I can’t jump off this—I’ll die.”
The last words strangle in my throat, and I take another long pull from
one of the Dr Peppers I’ve lugged up here with me. Walker shakes his head
full of dirty-blond hair, his smirk knowing, his lean frame balanced
precariously on the bin’s edge. I can barely make out the lettering across his
chest, but I recognize his favorite shirt and know it reads GIVE ’EM HELL.
Whether he’s shaking his head to say, Don’t die! or What’s the big deal? or
You’re the dumbass who climbed up here! I’m not sure. I look at the paper
again, holding it up.
“Your handwriting is barely legible,” I say. He rolls his eyes. It’s an old
argument. As a kid, Walker spent so much time with medical tubes stuck in
his hands, he learned to write on a tablet.
“Well, I’m not fucking jumping off a corn silo. What other death traps
are on this list?”
A cloud passes over the moon, and I crush the paper in my fist. Not like I
can read it up here, anyway. “Unbelievable,” I mutter. Suddenly, the bottle
slips in my fingers, and I jerk to grip it, throwing my center off-balance. For
a heart-thudding moment, I fight to remain safely seated on the narrow
ledge of the silo, and the paper drops from my grasp.
My gasp is carried
away on the breeze, and dark spots blur my vision as Walker’s crumpled list
floats lazily toward the earth. A beat later, the bottle I’m holding follows
with a faint, tinkling shatter on the near-frozen ground.
I wrap my entire arm around the bar, resting my forehead against the icy
metal. “Now what?”
My limbs go from trembling to all-out shaking from the cold. Or the
previously consumed booze, uncomfortably sloshing around in my gut. Or
the suffocating guilty feeling from what went down at the party tonight.
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