I climbed up after him, which was harder than it looked in my pencil skirt. When I reached the top, Cole offered me his hand and pulled me into the loft. The boys had clearly redone the space. I hadn’t known what to expect—maybe bales of hay—but instead there was a shabby blue rug on the floor, two couches, an old TV on a coffee table, and one of Katherine’s ever-present murals decorating the walls. A pile of board games was stacked in the corner, but judging by the layer of dust on top, the games hadn’t been touched in a long time.
“We used to hang out here a lot when we were younger,” Cole said as I rotated around the room, taking everything in. One of the beams holding up the ceiling was covered in Sharpie with different ticks, dates, and the boys’ names marking their different heights as they grew.
When he saw what I was looking at, he ran his finger over one with his name written next to it. “I remember I broke my leg that day,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s add you.”
He grabbed a marker. It was hanging from the string that was nailed into the beam, waiting patiently to record a new height. I stepped up against the rough, wooden height chart, and Cole’s hands brushed the top of my head as he drew a line. He scribbled my name next to it when I stepped aside, and I realized that the little black mark wasn’t just a testament to how short I was compared to most of the Walters, but a memory.
“There,” Cole said, glancing over his handiwork after hanging the marker back up. “Now that you’ve been inducted permanently into the loft, let me show you why it’s so awesome.” He crossed over to the ledge and leaned over, his hand fishing in the air for a rope that was hanging from the ceiling.
“Cole, what are you doing?” I demanded as he hoisted himself up onto the banister.
“Watch this,” he said and grinned. With one big step, Cole swung through the air like some crazy jungle man, shouting at the top of his lungs before dropping into a huge pile of hay.
I rushed over to the edge, hands gripping the railing as I peered over to see if he was okay. At first, I couldn’t see him because the pile of hay had swallowed him up. But before I could freak out, Cole popped up, sending pieces of dried grass everywhere. “Your turn, Jackie,” he shouted up to me. “Just grab the rope.”
“Like hell,” I said, backing away. I swiveled to the right, moving in the direction of the ladder. “I’m coming down like a normal person so I don’t end up in the ER.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” I heard Cole say below, and before I could reach the ladder, I saw the top of it shake, then disappear, leaving me trapped in the loft. I stared at the empty gap in the banister for a few seconds before I realized the ladder was gone. The sight was strange, like a missing tooth in someone’s smile.
“It’s not funny, Cole,” I finally said, trying to stay calm as I peered down at him. “Please put the ladder back.”
“Nope.” The ladder was still in his hands, but he was easing it down onto its side, far out of my reach.
“If you actually think I’m going to jump out of this loft, then you’re crazy,” I informed him, in my best I-mean-business tone. It was a ludicrous idea.
“Come on, Jackie,” he responded with a whiny-please voice. “It’s not that far of a fall and I promise it’s safe. We used to do it all the time as kids.”
But I was having none of that. “If you don’t put the ladder back up right now—”
“What’s the worst that can happen?” he asked, cutting me off. His arms were crossed over his chest as he craned his neck to look up at me.
“I could break my leg,” I snapped, remembering what he’d told me a couple of minutes ago as we studied the height chart.
“Jackie,” he groaned, his head falling back in annoyance. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “I promise that’s not how I broke mine.”
“I’m sorry, Cole,” I told him, firmly planting my hands on my hips. “But I’m not the type of person who takes unnecessary risks.”
“Unnecessary risks? You sound like a stuffy businessman. It’s not like you’re signing a multimillion-dollar contract or something. You’re just doing a bit of rope swinging. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Like I said before, I don’t see the fun in breaking my leg.”
“Are you always this stubborn?” Cole asked, muttering more to himself than me. Still shaking his head, he made a point of sitting down, his long legs folding into a cross-legged position. “It doesn’t matter. I can hang around all day.”
“I thought the point of this tour was to cheer me up,” I said, “not to torture me.”
There was a pause, and Cole sighed. “I’m trying, but you’re making this very difficult,” he said, as if I was the one who was being ridiculous. “Seriously, Jackie, just live a little.”
Hearing this, I drew in a breath.