“A wager?” Josh quirks an eyebrow. “What do you win?”

“A Benjamin.”

“And what do I have to do?”

The guy laughs. “Just show off, I guess.”

“What do I get?”

“Dude.” The guy takes a step back. “You can keep the hundred. Hell, I'd pay a hundred to watch you in action.”

Josh looks over at me. “What do you think, Becca?”

I just shrug, my eyes wide.

Laughing, he helps me off the board and holds me to him. To the random guy, he says, “I'll get my gear.”

He gets his gear.

I get my camera.

We climb the ladder to the top of what I’ve been told is a half-pipe. Josh helps me to sit on the landing, my legs dangling off the edge. For the first half hour of watching him I ignore the camera in my hand. What he’s doing—what I’ve been witnessing—deserves to be seen with my own eyes and not through the lens of a camera. It isn't until the random guy from earlier, who introduced himself as Chris, sits down next to me and asks if I’ve been getting any good shots that I finally start snapping away.

“He's amazing, right?” Chris says.

I nod.

“Do you know what happened to him?”

I set the camera on my lap and face Chris, my eyebrows raised.

“Josh—he was like a God amongst men out here. Rumor had it he had sponsors knocking on his door and then one day he just disappeared. People thought he'd died.” Chris laughs. “For a year or so people had sworn they'd seen him out here in the dead of night. He was his own urban legend.”

I look away from him and back to Josh as he skates to the top of the half pipe, stands upside down on one hand—his feet in the air—as he holds the board. I gasp loudly. Chris nudges my side. “This is child's play for Joshua's skill level. Don't worry, he's all good.”

Somehow, Josh lands perfectly back on the pipe, eliciting cheers from the people watching.

“So?” Chris asks, pulling my attention away from Josh. “Do you know what happened?”

I shrug and press my lips tight.

Josh skates toward us, doing one more trick and then swiftly turning at the top of the pipe and sitting down on the other side of me, grabbing his board as he does. “We gotta get going.”

“Thanks man,” Chris says, offering Josh the hundred he promised.

Standing up, Josh raises his hands. “All good man. Keep it.”

Once we were back in his truck and driving away, I ask Josh, “You didn't want the money?”

He shakes his head.

“Does that happen often? People paying you to skate?”

He shrugs. “In another life. One I don’t really want to talk about.”

★★★

He takes us to a hole in the wall restaurant; literally a door into a basement restaurant that I would’ve never known was there. We eat in silence because I can tell his mind is elsewhere and I don’t want to ask the wrong questions even though my thoughts are racing with them. He settles his hand on the table between us—his palm up. I place my hand in his the same time he says, “Sorry. I’ve kind of killed the mood haven’t I?”

I shake my head and smile at him.

“That guy—Chris—I remember him from way back. I remember he used to follow me around with his camcorder telling everyone he was recording history in the making. But like I said, it was another life for me and not one that I like to look back on or think about.”

“Because you gave it up for Tommy?”

His gaze moves to somewhere behind me, somewhere far, far away. “It’s just skating, right? It’s no big deal.”

“It is if it’s something you love,” I say quietly.

With a sigh, he looks back at me. “There are some sacrifices greater than love. And some loves greater than any sacrifice. Tommy’s greater than both.”

My gaze drops and I try to ignore the ache in my chest—the one caused by envy.

He picks up my hand and kisses my palm. “Let’s get out of here.”

★★★

Josh drives a few minutes to the same basketball court from yesterday.

“This is my playground,” he tells me. “My safe place.”

I stay silent as he leads me to the middle of the court and sits down, tugging on my arm for me to do the same. I sit opposite him, my legs crossed. He scoots closer and settles his hands on my thighs. Then he just stares at me, his eyes on mine, and I haven’t felt so open and so vulnerable since when my mother used to look at me that way. I wait for him to look away—to be the first to break. And just like my mother, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks a question worthy of a thousand answers. “Do you have a safe place, Becca?”

I release a shaky breath, but I can’t seem to look away. “Yes,” I whisper. And I hesitate, just for a moment, from telling him the truth. “You.”

He doesn’t respond, not with words, but he brings me closer and holds me to him. Seconds, minutes, hours pass—I have no idea. When he finally releases me, he takes out his phone, taps it a few times, waits for a song to start and then puts it on the ground between us. Then, with his hand holding one of mine, he lies down flat on the ground and I do the same.

So here we are, lying side by side, hand in hand, listening to music on the middle of a basketball court with nothing but darkness surrounding us and I swear it, my world has never looked so bright.