Promise Me This(39)

But now, more than ever, I had a burning desire to know why he was so afraid. What had happened to push him there, to lock him away?

My thighs thrummed with longing from our unfinished business. I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have Nate inside me. More than likely, it would rock my world. If last night was any indication of what being with him could feel like, so raw and wild, then maybe it was best that we walk away. Because otherwise, I might want to experience it again and again and again.

Nate didn’t repeat his hookups or even do friends with benefits. Not as far as I’d heard. And I didn’t do casual, either.

But could I do it with him?

I stood by the front bumper and adjusted the lens. He climbed on the hood of my truck to sit and watch me work.

“Tell me about this bridge,” I said.

“Let’s see if I can remember. It was built in the eighteen forties and was one of the first wrought iron truss bridges. It’s angled that way on the end because there used to be a shallow river down below,” he said, pointing beneath the bridge where tall weeds obscured the landscape. “And it would lower to allow the trains, which were once known as iron horses, to cross. Then would rise again if a boat needed safe passage.”

“So what happened?” I asked, focusing in on a closer shot. I loved hearing his history lessons. They made him sound so sexy and brainy. “Why isn’t it used anymore?”

“The industrial revolution happened. Expansive tracks were built to transport supplies across the country. Cargo planes, too,” he said on a breath. “This bridge wasn’t maintained properly and began rusting. The riverbed below dried up after a long draught. And now here it sits all alone.”

“That’s quite a story you just weaved for the poor lonely bridge,” I said, turning my camera and flashing it in his direction. I took shot after shot of him relaxed and gorgeous with his sleepy eyes and messy bedhead, before he finally raised his hand to protest. “How do you know so much about it?”

“My brother used to hang here with friends. You know, doing stupid kid stuff, like climbing up on the bridge to walk to the connecting tracks about a mile down the road and feel the vibration of the trains roaring by,” he said, looking off in the distance. “The bridge stayed down because of the dried-up river, but it was patrolled by the sheriff in town because there were a couple near accidents.”

I leaned back on the bumper and imagined a younger Nate. Then pictured a bunch of drunk teens trying to experience a high by the tracks.

“They finally got smart and raised the bridge for good. That’s when it became too hard to cross it,” he said. “But that’s also when I started to seek this place out by myself. Did it a couple of times just to sit and think.”

“It is peaceful around here, just looking up at this thing in all of its glory.”

“You mean looking down at it,” he said, hopping off the hood of my car. “I used to climb up there and look down at the world. Now, that was a sight.”

I couldn’t help my jaw from hanging open at his words, but it made sense for a daredevil like Nate. “Now I’m connecting the dots.”

“Want to see?” There was challenge in his eyes and I swallowed roughly. I bet photos from up high would be amazing.

“How . . . how do you get up there?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” He reached for my hand and I slid my fingers in his. I was getting used to holding Nate’s hand, the rough pads of his fingers, the smooth weight of his palms. I’d told Nate earlier of my slight fear of heights and as we neared the structure that loomed in the sky, my knees started knocking.

Trudging through the grass to the foot of the bridge, he turned to me. “Think you can climb this?”

I shook my head, my heart pounding. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“I’ve got you,” he said, leaning in and wrapping his arms around my waist. It felt safe and warm and good. Too good. He positioned me in front of him, nudging me toward the concealed iron steps that went all the way up top. “It’ll be worth it. I’ll be behind you the entire way.”

He suddenly lifted me and plopped me down over a smattering of tall weeds that had become overgrown. I squealed, then got my footing and looked up. The stairs were solid and my heart rate evened out as I began travelling upward. I knew not to look over the sides and having Nate so near helped me stay focused.

Nate kept his hands glued to my hips as I navigated overgrown vegetation to reach the top. I stopped all at once on the second to last step to catch my breath and his forward motion almost caused me to topple over. I felt his chest and hips slide up against me.