IVA
The road curved sharply, and I was still laughing about something Lev said when the world opened up in front of us: vast plains, the sharp drop of a cliff, and the familiar white dome of the skydiving center perched at the edge like it was born from the rock itself.
I gasped and slammed my foot on the brake.
The car rolled to a stop, dust kicking up around us, and my heart leapt straight into my throat as I stared at the hangar, the runway, the instructors moving around, and the massive aircraft waiting in the sun. I turned to Lev, eyes wide.
“We’re skydiving?” I whispered, breathless, and he gave me that maddeningly calm, soft smile of his.
“We’re skydiving.”
My whole body buzzed. Skydiving was ours. One of those things that stitched us together long before either of us realized
