lucky break and tell her to run with it. And she wouldâlater.
Right now there was a young kid who might end his life with one slip of his fingers from the rail. A quick image of his family formed in her mind, of the despair she knew theyâd feel if that happened.
She made determined eye contact. âSo, I was thinking you might want to tell your story before . . .â She let her words drift off, not wanting to acknowledge his intentions or encourage him in any manner. At that moment, sheâd give anything to reach out and take his arm and pull him to safety.
âWhatâs your story, Brandon? What do you want people to know?â She looked at him more intensely, aware the networkâs cameraman now stood only yards away with his lens pointed in their direction. âYou have time. Tell us.â
He dropped his head. She could see him take a deep breath. In a voice almost inaudible, he responded, âIâm so tired.â
She inched closer, aware the officers were watching. One looked to even be praying. âWhatâs making you so tired, Brandon?â
He raised his head slowly. âEver feel like no matter what you do, itâs just never enough?â
She gave him a weak smile. âYeah, I know that feeling far too well.â And she did. No one knew the performance trap more, the need to show the world your value. âI get tired too sometimes.â
She saw it then. That tiny glimmer in his eyes that said sheâd made a connection. Even if only a small one.
âSometimes the pressure to do everything people want you to do, and do it well, gets to be a real pain. Worse? Sometimes that pressure is from inside. Yeah, I know exactly where youâre coming from.â
A flash of anger crossed his features. âDo you know what itâs like to be me? To be the Hildebrandsâ kid? To constantly be told that itâll all be yours someday and you need to step up and get ready? Study harder. Work more. Go to the right schools. Hang with the right people. Iâm sick of it. All of it.â He turned then and looked down at the water.
Faith could hear the officers gasp. Her heart pounded inside her chest. âSo, when itâs all yours you can set up a trust and give it all away. You can make a difference. More, you can shed the responsibility if you want, and walk away. Have any kind of life you want.â She dared to approach. âBrandon, no one gets to tell you what life you will live. No matter who your family is or what expectations are forced upon you because of their actionsâyou alone get to choose your own destiny.â
Hadnât she done that very thing? Hadnât she made a decision to distance herself from her own beginning and leave all that garbage behind?
â You get to choose, Brandon,â Faith repeated. âNo one else. You.â
His eyes pooled with tears. She could tell he wanted to believe her.
A boat circled below. Perhaps the Coast Guard or police. A voice blared from a loudspeaker. âBrandon. This is your father. Donât do it, son. Please, donât.â
The kid looked at her then. Faith reached out her hand. âYou can stop all of it without thisâand rest. Itâs your life. No one elseâs.â
Brandon Hildebrand shifted his body.
Faith scrunched her eyes closed. If he let go, she couldnât bear to know.
She heard a scuffle and forced herself to look.
His arms were clutching the railing. The two officers scrambled forward and grabbed him. As they quickly hauled him over the railing, a faint cheer rang out from the crowd that had gathered in the distance.
Only then did Faith let out the breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding.
Minutes later, she handed off her cell phone to the crew. While they did their technical magic to download the footage sheâd recorded, she let herself bask in the fact the kid was now safe.
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