The Fear of Falling Read online

  The Fear of Falling

  Challenger #1

  B. Cranford

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Beth Cranford

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design by Beth Cranford

  Edited by Missy Borucki

  Manufactured in the United States

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Mile High Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Also by B. Cranford

  Synopsis

  Everyone knows love is a battlefield. For Lenny Johnstone, it’s more like a challenge.

  Actually, everything is kind of a challenge for her. In comparison to her stunning—yet flighty—twin sister, Lenny’s awkwardly tall, painfully shy, and not so good at putting herself out there. Which is why she’s decided it’s high time she faced her demons. Starting with the one thing that’s always terrified her most: roller coasters.

  Meeting a man was not on her summer to-do list. Falling for the tall, dark, and handsome stranger who wants to help her overcome her fears wasn’t either.

  But Lenny’s about to learn that the only thing with more twists and turns than a roller coaster is love.

  For Macey, who loved these two from the start, and whose friendship makes me smile.

  And for Gale and Janett, two women I was lucky to call friend and who left us far too soon. I miss you.

  Prologue

  Lenny

  “You need to get out more.”

  Rolling my eyes at Gale, I made a hmming noise in the back of my throat. “Like I haven’t heard that a time or twenty before.”

  “Have you considered the fact that you’ve heard it ‘a time or twenty’ because it’s true?” She turned her head to look at me as she brought the car to a stop at the red light. We were only a mile or so from the school we worked at together, and I was counting every foot—every yard—until we got there.

  Anything to end this conversation.

  “Lenny, you know I’m not telling you this because I want to make you uncomfortable or unhappy.”

  You do that all on your own, I mentally added, knowing that even if she was too kind to say it, she was surely thinking it. Or, at least, she’d thought it at some point in the couple of years she’d known me. “I know,” I agreed, willing the light to turn green, “but we have this talk bi-weekly, it seems.”

  “Because I’m not giving up on you, sweetheart. Look, my girls are grown now, and my kids”—her lips turned up into a smile as she referred to her students, her kids—“are a work in progress. You . . .”

  “Aren’t even in progress?” I finished for her, grimacing because part of the reason I hated this talk was that Gale wasn’t wrong.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You’re young, you’re beautiful inside and out, and you’re one of my favorite people on the planet. I hate to think of you alone in the world because you’re too afraid to try.”

  “I try,” I said defensively, letting my eyes fall closed as the light finally switched over to green, and Gale hit the accelerator.

  You’d already be at school and could’ve skipped the lecture if you could drive. My traitorous mind liked to needle me from time to time. Whether it was with visions of all the things that could go wrong or a reminder of the fact that I was a capital F ’Fraidy Cat, it didn’t matter.

  My mind was an asshole, and I was stuck with it.

  Le sigh.

  “Tell me the last time you did something crazy. Outside of your comfort zone.” She chanced a quick glance in my direction just as the school came into view. She knew I was uncomfortable in and around cars and made a point to drive extra carefully when I was on board. Knowing Gale, she was probably a hooligan when I wasn’t with her. I’d be willing to bet she took the corners as fast as legally possible, zipping in and out of lanes (always with her turn signal on though, because she was a firm believer in obeying the road rules), and going through yellow-to-red lights instead of stopping if possible. But with me, she took care.

  Which is why I answered her honestly when it would have been easy to make up some lie about meeting a stranger on a dating app or using Uber instead of the trusty bus service. “Last time Willa was here, we went to that bar, and she convinced me to dance on the bar top. We got kicked out.”

  Laughing, Gale shook her head. “That girl. Mark my words, now that she’s living in Vegas, she’s going to get arrested . . . or marry someone she’s just met.”

  “Maybe both. On the same night.”

  “Sounds about right. She needs to rein it in a little, and you—you need to be more adventurous. Do something outlandish.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Make a list, maybe.”

  I snickered. “Like a bucket list? I’m just a little wary, it’s not like I’m dying.”

  Gale didn’t respond. Maneuvering the car into the parking lot past a group of kids arriving early for school, she waited until she’d parked in her usual spot before killing the engine and turning to face me. “No, you’re not. Not physically, anyway. But, Lenny, you won’t live forever.” A brief flicker of something danced across her face. “Do you want to get to the end of your life without ever riding a roller coaster, or dyeing your hair bright purple, or kissing a stranger because he’s handsome and you want to?” Reaching out with a hand that trembled, leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth, a flash of a future I didn’t want to picture, she cupped my cheek. “It’s time to let go of the fear, sweetheart. It’s time to live.”

  Chapter One

  Four Months Later

  Lenny

  With my feet planted firmly on the ground and a rush of adrenaline coursing through my body, I walked on shaky feet to the exit of the roller coaster that had just sent me barreling through the air. Not usually one for fast rides or big adventures, riding the Tornado at Island Heights was about as crazy as I had ever been.

  Until recently, anyway.

  Finding my way through the crowd of people waiting for their friends and family members at the end of the exit pathway, I eyed a shaded bench sitting surprisingly empty. Determined to claim it, I dodged and weaved through waves of people to plunk my still nervy body down.

  You’re fine, you survived.

  In theory, I knew I was fine—my butt was resting on the faded wood of a bench dedicated to one of the amusement park’s first employees—but it was hard to explain that to my overactive imagination. My very o
veractive imagination. Sucking in two deep, soothing breaths, I closed my eyes and tried desperately not to picture myself stuck hanging upside down on one of the Tornado’s twisted loops.

  I’d always been a bit . . . okay, a lot of a worrywart. And a pessimist. And now I was conjuring images of roller coaster cars derailed, or a cherry picker filled with firefighters ascending to my rescue only to find that my seatbelt—the only thing that stood between me and a plummet headfirst to the ground—was jammed and had to be cut off.

  What if they didn’t catch me?!

  A slight tremor rocked the bench as another body landed solidly beside me. A tall, dark-haired, and stupidly handsome man with black-framed glasses turned toward me, smiled, and asked, “Is this seat taken?” with a double blink that implied he was surprised. By me.

  Which, perhaps, he was. At just over six feet tall, I was built more like a basketballer than an elementary school teacher. And my long, wavy hair was currently colored a deep purple—in memory of my sweet friend and co-worker, Gale, who’d recently lost her battle with cancer. I could see why I maybe warranted a second look. I was aware of the fact that the purple made my blue eyes look deeper and darker than my natural blond hair did. My twin sister, Willa, who changed her hair color as often as she changed jobs—which was often—had said something about me looking like a tormented emo. Like always, I took what she said with a grain of salt, but now I wondered if there was any truth in her words.

  Did the handsome stranger see me as an Amazon-sized emo chick? Even if he did, why did it matter?

  Because he’s hot, Lenny. Obviously.

  Returning the stranger’s smile and shaking my head, letting him know that the seat was his for the taking, I immediately went back to thoughts of death by coaster, which somehow seemed like safer ground than wondering how tall, dark, and handsome viewed me. This time, my scaredy-cat brain helpfully supplied an image of the safety bar not locking properly, so by the time the car and I barreled over the final twisty loop, there was nothing I could do but sail off the ride and into the nearby koi pond.

  Death by koi? Not something I wanted to see on my headstone. Why are there even koi here anyway? One of life’s little mysteries, I guess.

  “Are you okay?” The question was asked in a gravelly voice, but one that held a genuine curiosity for my well-being. “You look a little shaken.”

  I started to tell him I was fine, because playing off my insecurities seemed smarter than admitting them, except that something made me tell the truth—maybe the whiskey color of his eyes, or the soft crinkles around them that made him look . . . happy.

  Or maybe I was delirious from the recent rush of blood to my head and accompanying adrenaline spike.

  “Ah, not so much.” Pointing at the roller coaster currently roaring through the air with another trainload of victims, I added, “I just got off that. I-I’m not so good at upside down.”

  He stared at me for what felt like a full, silent, awkward-as-hell minute, as if trying to solve a puzzle, before letting out a slight chuckle. “Well, then, why’d you ride it?”

  Good question.

  “It’s a long story.” At least, it was if you wanted the full-length version, to get to the root of my problems. And who had time for that in the middle of a crowded theme park? “Basically, I was trying to challenge myself. Goals and all that, you know?”

  He nodded, the smile from earlier returning bigger, catching me a little off guard. TD&H (that’s tall, dark, and handsome for the folks at home) not only had kind eyes and happy crinkles, and an apparent concern for shaky strangers, he also had the most brilliantly white teeth I’d ever seen. “I’m Rowan. And you’re . . .”

  He trailed off, clearly waiting for me to reply with a simple, “I’m Lenny,” which was never simple, because how many girls do you know with the name Lenny? But I didn’t even get that far.

  “Maybe I’ll just call you Challenger since you’re challenging yourself to ride rides that evidently scare the hell out of you by going upside down.”

  Laughing at the nickname, because it seemed like he accepted that riding a roller coaster was a Big Thing—capital B, capital T—for me, I held out my hand. “It’s actually Lenny. Nice to meet you.”

  The feel of his hand in mine, his skin warm but not that odd kind of warm that’s discomforting, was almost as distracting as his perfect smile. A wave of heated tingles spread up my arm, washing away some of the dread and death-by-coaster thoughts that lingered after my dance with the Tornado.

  “Lenny,” he repeated, my name sounding way more appealing rolling off his tongue than it ever had before. I had a sudden flash of him whispering it in my ear, his body over mine, his breath choppy. Oh my.

  “I like it.”

  “Me too,” I said, cringing when I realized I’d responded as if he was talking about my visual and not my name. Drawing my hand back after a too-brief shake, I crossed my arms over my chest, then dropped them because the memory of a body language expert telling me it implied I was closed off popped up. And as if that wasn’t awkward enough, I then tried to shove them into my pockets, only to end up rubbing up and down the outsides of my thighs because I was sitting down, and my jeans were too tight for me to get my hands into. “I mean, um, it’s short for Eleanora. In case you were wondering.”

  Rowan’s nod was slow and interested, his attention surprisingly on my face and not my flailing arms. “I was wondering, actually. So, Lenny, you challenged the Tornado and won, what’s next?”

  Linking my hands together and setting them into my lap, and leaving them there because oh my god, what was wrong with me, I thought about my list, the map that I’d marked with crosses to show which rides I planned on tackling and decided to say the hell with it. It was past time for me to be brave. “Lunch. Care to join me?”

  “I’d love to.” Standing smoothly, he pivoted so his towering form shaded me even more than the large oak tree growing overhead and reached a hand down to help me rise from the bench. “Let’s go, Challenger.”

  Briefly wondering if I dared to attempt anything else involving my hands ever again, I found my courage and slipped my fingers into his palm. “Okay,” I said with a smile, our joined hands making me feel almost as giddy as the Tornado’s loops and dips and twists had. “Let’s.”

  I stood next to the door of Rowan’s car, nibbling on my thumbnail, and wondering how to explain that I wasn’t entirely comfortable getting into his car. It wasn’t like me to go off with someone I’d just met, and yeah, I might have been the one to suggest lunch, but I’d honestly thought we’d grab hot dogs or something at the park.

  I never expected he’d want to leave the property or the safety of the summer crowd. And yet, I’d let them stamp me for re-entry as we left instead of turning around and marching to the nearest concession stand.

  “Lenny? Are you okay?” He moved his head into my line of sight—I hadn’t even been aware I was staring off into the distance—and smiled. His happy crinkles caught my attention, easing some of the tension that’d built in my gut. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

  “Sorry. I’m fine, I’m just not sure about the whole leaving together thing.” Forcing myself to extract my nail from between my teeth, I attempted a smile. “On a scale of one to ten, how weird would it be for me to ask to see your driver’s license?”

  He didn’t answer with words, but by pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and flipping it open to slide his license out. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to me with a slight tilt of his lips. “Please don’t judge me on the photo. I was sick that day.”

  I snickered at the look on his face. “I didn’t think guys got insecure about their driver’s license photos.” Reaching out a hand to take the offered ID, I started to say, “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” only to stutter to a stop. “Oh, jeez. Rowan. Oh my god.” Covering my mouth with my hand, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through my nose.

  It didn’t work. All th
at happened was a series of wheezing puffs of air mingled with aborted snort-laughs. It was undignified and unladylike, and my hand shook as I lowered it so I could give him the unvarnished truth. “I’ve been told a few times by people that their photos are bad, but this . . .” I trailed off as a fresh wave of giggles crashed through me. “Oh my god, this is terrible.”

  He nodded solemnly, his straight face and serious eyes bringing an abrupt end to my laughter. “Shit, I’m sorry.” I looked down at it again, sucking in a long, deep breath. Heat crept up my neck as I carefully peeked over the top of my sunglasses to gauge his reaction to my apology. “I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s not, you know, that bad.”

  Except that was a lie. Rowan was a good-looking guy, I wouldn’t have been calling him tall, dark, and handsome otherwise. But his photo was god-awful. Dark hair was sticking up on either side of his head, almost like horns, while his eyes were ever-so-slightly crossed, giving him a look of empty confusion that was at odds with the smart-looking man in front of me.

  But neither of those things compared to his smile. Or what I assumed was supposed to be a smile. “You have”—I paused, trying to think of a compliment to offer to soften the blow of my thoughtless laughter—“really white teeth.” Which were exposed in the photo by a smile that looked pained.