Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“What?” I demanded.
“Yeah. I don’t know if the concierge assumed that everyone knew Liliha was a famous cliff-diving waterfall or if he mentioned it and I was too busy chasing Brant around the lobby to hear him.” He shrugged. “All I remember is hearing a woman’s scream a few beats after Brant raced out of my sight around a curve in the trail.”
“Oh god,” I murmured, holding my breath in fear, even though I knew Brant had survived.
He nodded. “As I raced around the corner to see who was in need of help, I saw a woman standing at the edge of a cliff. It was the top edge of the waterfall. Brant had apparently run ahead and slipped over the edge right in front of her. I remember my body shaking, my head swimming, the blood roaring in my ears as I neared the edge. I leaned out to find him, expecting the broken body of my beautiful baby boy on the rocks below. But instead, he was in the water. There was a giant pool at the bottom full of swimmers, and several people were racing through the blue water to reach his tiny body.”
I felt the clammy hand in mine, the slight tremble. I wanted to pull him into my arms and wrap my entire body around his. I couldn’t even imagine the terror of a parent in that situation. “What happened next?”
“I flung myself off the edge—shoes, backpack, and all. I did it without thinking, just to get to him as fast as possible. The free fall felt like it lasted a lifetime. Hours of knowing he was probably inhaling water or sinking or at the very least trying to keep his head above water and crying for his daddy.” He took a breath. “I found out later the distance of that cliff dive is forty feet, as high as a four-story building. I hit the water hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I still don’t know how I managed to make it to the bank with Brantleigh in my arms, and I definitely don’t know how he survived hitting that water at such speed. His little body was shivering with cold and shock by the time I got to him. Thankfully, one of the swimmers had been a lifeguard and had training. Brant didn’t need resuscitating, but the woman helped make sure he didn’t aspirate the water coming up, and she managed to organize people around us to get towels and stuff to warm him up.”
His chin wobbled as he spoke, and my heart wanted to break. I’d known he loved Brantleigh, of course, but I hadn’t seen the depth of that love until now. Thatcher’s vaunted confidence and self-control had blown away in the mountain air like a puff of powdery snow from our ski tips.
“I carried him out. Four miles, one up to the top and three back to the trailhead, where emergency services were waiting. Thalia met us at the hospital. He was hurt—broken leg, broken wrist. I’d let him get hurt.”
“Thatcher,” I whispered. “You didn’t let him.”
“You can say that. I can see, logically, how you might even be right. But that’s not how parenthood works. You think you’ve figured life out, more or less, then they put this tiny baby in your arms, and you realize you don’t know anything. You love them so much. And you think, I’m going to do this differently. I’m going to make this kid’s life so much better than mine. I’m not going to push him to succeed the way I was pushed. I’m going to make sure he knows he’s loved whether he wins or loses. I’m going to make his life so damn easy. I’m going to keep him perfectly safe. But then…” He stared down at our joined hands.
“You can’t.” I shifted carefully on the chair so I could look up into his face. “I mean, not you. No one can.”
Thatcher nodded, looking as troubled as if Brantleigh had fallen hours ago rather than decades, and looked off in the distance, where colorful parkas floated down white ski slopes. “Doesn’t mean you don’t try, though. Or that you don’t feel guilty when you fail. After Brant’s accident… it was a dark time. I realized I had no business raising a kid. Thalia agreed,” he added with a ghost of a smile. “Things between us were already bad, but there was no coming back from that. She moved to California with Brant.”
“You didn’t fight for custody,” I murmured, pieces fitting into place.
“Hell no.” Thatcher scowled. “I wouldn’t have him flying across the country every week or two. He needed stability. And he had Thalia.”
And who did you have? I wanted to ask, but I already knew. He’d had Pennington Industries. His company. His work.