Birthdays are meant for sleeping in. They provide us with the perfect excuse to drink too much, indulge too much, and sleep too much, and yet it’s dark when my alarm goes off. I quickly dress, pulling my hair into a bun, and ignore the thought of makeup entirely. I stare at my reflection. I don’t look any different than yesterday, but today I’m officially thirty. It feels strange. As a kid, thirty seemed so old, and now there are days where seventeen seems like it was yesterday. I spent much of last night considering Catherine’s words. It’s not necessarily the end I’ve always focused on but the deadline, the outcome. I fear if I continue to do this, I’m going to wake up, be sixty, and still be searching for fulfillment and purpose.

I flip off the lights and quietly toe downstairs and outside. It’s cool out this morning, but I started to shake before I got outside. I get into my car, turn the heater on full blast, and drive the two hours it takes me to reach the small airstrip.

My heart is hammering in my chest like a pinball working to break free, but my movements are slow and calculated, fear coursing through me, making it difficult to breathe and remain focused. I’ve spent the past couple of months running from my fears—now I’m running toward my greatest one.

I walk into the small, unassuming building that has a broken light and hedges so large and overgrown they could hide a dead body and pull open the glass door. A short cord of bells rings as I step inside, and when I see him, my stomach plummets.

Levi turns from where he’s standing at the counter, and our eyes lock. Questions and hope have his gaze traveling over me, waiting for me to make a move.

“Is this the birthday girl?” a man says, bringing my attention to where he’s standing on the opposite side of the counter, a pen in his hands and a sheath of papers laid out in front of him.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “You hate heights.”

“Did you come all this way just to remind me of that?”

I realize then his skin is pallid, his hands in fists. I shake my head. “Levi, this is crazy.”

He chuckles—it’s dark and gritty and resonates within the dark chamber within my heart, the part that refuses to believe in happily-ever-afters and knights and therefore built its own shining armor.

“I should have asked more questions,” I tell him, taking another step closer. “I should have demanded you explain things and waited for you to tell me all the details. I was hurt, and I went into reaction mode in an attempt to harness what was left.”

The man behind the counter clears his throat and places a hand on his round belly. “I’ll just give you kids a moment.” He grabs a mug sitting on the counter and backs away, closing a door with a sign that reads “Office” on the back.

Shifting my gaze back to Levi feels like the bravest thing I’ve done since I sent him a text earlier, inviting myself to the baseball game.

“Harness what was left?” Levi cocks his head to the side, though his body remains as still as a statue.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve been drawn to you, and I worked tirelessly to move past that and ignore my feelings because I knew I shouldn’t like you, let alone love you. But I’ve spent a lot of time running from what we could be, might be—labeling it something fun and short-term, and now I’m running toward it. I’m running toward you.”

Levi’s shoulders visibly drop, and his eyes quickly rove over my face as though expecting to find something—maybe truth or excuses, maybe lies.

“I’m terrible at moving forward. The unknown terrifies me, which is why I’ve worked at the same job for a decade and why I remained in a relationship for six years even though I knew we weren’t meant to be together. I’m sure if I allowed someone into the recesses of my mind, they’d tell you that my parents leaving me, regardless that it was with someone who could raise me better and love me more, was a form of abandonment and because of it, my ability to trust others—even myself—is difficult. I expect most people to leave, which is why Felicity is my only friend, and it’s also why trusting you is so hard—because I never planned to give away my heart. I thought it was impossible, but over these past few weeks, I’ve realized that’s not a conscious choice one makes.”

Levi walks toward me, stopping when we’re toe to toe. He places a hand on my chest over my heart, and that heat—that sense of branding—is left on my skin. Tears return once more, and my lips curl, grateful to feel it again.

“If you give me your heart, you’re never getting it back.” His words are a whisper, his gaze intense.

“I won’t ever want it back.”

He nods once, and then his hand moves to my jaw, and he’s kissing me, breathing air into my lungs and stealing the last traces of doubt from me.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so damn much.”

My heart sighs. I can feel it through every cell of my body. “I love you, too.” I pull back to look at him, recognizing the silent words in his eyes because I feel them in my soul.

“We don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “Skydiving was kind of a joke.” I step closer to him. My body, my heart, and even my soul want to feel him—need to have him close. “You have to stop listening to Felicity. She’s not an oracle.”

Levi chuckles, his breath tickling my lips. “I want to experience it all with you. Everything. This is just the beginning.”