I set up the ladder and make the wobbly climb once more, nerves shooting through my stomach. I should have made sure the ladder was on sturdy ground before I scaled it. I can’t ask Tate to run over and hold it steady, not after rejecting his help. I’d look like a fool. With shaky hands, I adjust my hard hat, take a bunch of quick photos, then scale back down. “Emmie, wait! It’s not steady—” The whine of metal scraping against concrete shrieks against my ear. Then I hit the ground.
You deserve this.
