26. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beau
The rope feels like a lifeline between worlds.
The safe ground above where Molly waits, and the wreckage below where my brother lies trapped in what used to be her car.
I test the anchor point one more time, tugging hard enough to make Jamie grunt with effort as he braces against the weight. The harness cuts into my thighs, familiar and reassuring in a way that surprises me.
Three years ago, gear like this triggered flashbacks.
Tonight, it just feels like coming home.
"You good?" Jamie calls down, his voice barely carrying over the howling wind.
I give him a thumbs up, then catch sight of Molly pressed against the guardrail, her face pale in the strobing red and blue emergency lights. She's wrapped in someone's rescue jacket, snow collecting in her hair, and she looks terrified.
Not for Riley. For me.
The realization hits me harder than the cold mountain air. She's not worried about my brother dying down there. She's worried about what saving him—or not saving him—will do to the man she loves.
What kind of man do I want to be for her?
I step backward over the edge, letting the rope take my weight. I want to be the man who chooses mercy over revenge. The man who saves lives because it's right, not because people deserve it.
The man worthy of Molly Jennings' love.
The descent starts smooth enough, my boots finding purchase on the rocky face as I rappel down into the darkness. Emergency floodlights create harsh shadows that move and change with every gust of wind, turning the mountainside into something from a nightmare.
Halfway down, my left boot slips on a patch of ice.
"Fuck!" I cry out, my feet looking for purchase.
The rope burns through my gloves as I slide six feet in half a second, my heart slamming against my ribs. Above me, I hear Molly's sharp shriek, and Jamie's voice barking orders to the anchor team.
"I'm good!" I call up, though my hands are shaking as I regain control. "All good!"
But I'm not good. Because with every foot I descend, the wreckage becomes clearer, and what I see below me makes rage bubble up in my throat like acid.
Molly's car… her beautiful, perfectly restored independence… is completely destroyed.
The front end is accordioned against a massive pine, steam rising from the crumpled engine block.
The driver's side is compressed inward, metal twisted into shapes that shouldn't exist. The passenger window has cracked and crumbled into a thousand pieces, and I can smell gasoline mixing with antifreeze, a smell that makes my stomach turn.
This was supposed to be her freedom. Her ability to drive these mountain roads safely, to not depend on anyone, to choose her own path each and every day she woke up.
And Riley destroyed it in one selfish, reckless act.
Just like he destroys everything.
My boots hit the ground beside the wreckage, and I can see him through the shattered windshield.
Riley Callahan, always so perfectly put together, now slumped over the steering wheel with blood trickling from a gash on his forehead.
His left arm hangs at an unnatural angle, clearly broken, and there's something wrong with the way he's breathing.
Shallow. Labored. The kind of breathing that means internal injuries.
For a moment, I just stand there, looking at the man who's made my life hell for thirty-six years.
The brother who stole my toys, my achievements, my confidence. Who convinced our parents I was the bad one. Who took every girlfriend I ever had and made sure I knew I wasn't worth keeping.
The man who spent years slowly crushing the light out of Molly's eyes.
Fuck.
I could walk away. Right now. Tell Jamie the angle was wrong, the approach too dangerous. Let the weather and his injuries do what I've wanted to do with my bare hands for decades.
But then I hear Molly's voice carrying on the wind, calling my name with worry and love and absolute faith that I can do this.
Because that's who she thinks I am.
I'm the man who fixes broken things. The man who builds instead of destroys. The man who chooses love over hate, every single time.
"Well, well," Riley's voice is weak but still carries that familiar condescending tone that used to make me feel like nothing. "If it isn't my big brother, coming to save the day."
His eyes are glassy with pain and shock, but there's still that calculating look I remember from childhood. Even trapped and bleeding, he's still an asshole.
"Don't fucking move," I warn, pulling my med kit from my pack. "You've got internal injuries, and if you've damaged your spine—"
"Always the hero," he interrupts, coughing up blood that spatters across the airbag pressing into his chest. "Always so much better than everyone else. Always so righteous ."
I ignore him, running my hands along his neck and shoulders, checking for obvious breaks. He flinches when I hit a tender spot near his collarbone, but his spine seems intact.
"She's not coming back to me, is she?" Riley asks, his voice taking on that wheedling quality he used to use when he wanted something from our parents. "Molly. She's really done with me."
"Yeah," I say, working to stabilize his broken arm. "She is."
"Because of you." There's venom in his voice, the mask slipping. "You turned her against me. Filled her head with your pathetic mountain man bullshit. Made her think she was too good for the life I gave her."
The accusation should make me angry. Should trigger that old sibling rivalry that poisoned our childhood. Should make me dig my fingers into his broken collarbone and make him feel real pain.
Instead, I just feel... sorry for him.
"I didn't turn her against anything," I say, checking his pupils for signs of concussion. "You did that all by yourself when you tried to control every breath she took."
"Control?" Riley laughs, then grimaces as the movement sends pain through his chest. "I loved her! I gave her everything! Money, security, a future—"
"Love?" I spit, my voice turning dangerous. "You used a six-year-old to gather intelligence on her. You manipulated an innocent child, Riley."
Riley's eyes narrow, and for a moment, the mask of pain slips to reveal something that resembles pure evil and calculating.
"I needed to understand what I was up against. You turned my own family against me, brother. I had to know how deep it went. That little girl was so eager to help."
The casual way he says it is terrifying. Like Maisie was just a tool, just another means to an end.
It makes rage flare white-hot in my chest.
"You're a sick son of a bitch. And as for Molly," I continue, forcing my voice steady despite the fury simmering underneath, "you didn't give her everything. You gave her a cage. It might have been a beautiful, expensive cage. But it was still a cage."
"And what did you give her?" Riley's eyes glitter with malice. "A cabin in the middle of nowhere? A job at some backwoods rescue station? Jesus, Beau, she'll be bored out of her mind within a year."
The words hit their target, finding that old insecurity that whispers maybe I'm not enough for someone like her. Maybe she deserves more than a broken ex-soldier who builds furniture and hides from the world.
But then I remember everything we've done these past few weeks.
I remember Molly's face when she drove my truck for the first time. The way she beamed at Betty in the café. How she looked standing on my porch, taking in the view like it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The nights in the hot tub, the laughing, the crying, the talking.
Since she came back, I've built a treehouse. Eaten dinner in public. Walked into Mountain Rescue without having a panic attack. Hell, I gave her car a damn makeover just to see her smile.
Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. Because I could.
I've become the man I always hoped I could be. Not hiding anymore, but living. Building. Loving.
And that man isn't going to let Riley poison what we've created.
"I gave her choice," I say simply. "The choice to stay or go. To work or not work. To love me or leave me. Every single day, she chooses."
" Choice ." Riley spits blood. "You think that's love? That's just cowardice, brother. You're too scared to claim what's yours, so you pretend it's nobility."
The old Beau would have taken the bait. Would have gotten defensive, tried to prove himself, maybe even thrown a punch.
But I'm not that man anymore.
I'm the man Molly chose.
"You're right about one thing," I say, working to cut away the seatbelt that's pinning him in place. "I am scared. Scared of losing her. Scared of not being enough. Scared that someday she'll realize she could do better."
Riley's eyes light up, thinking he's found weakness.
"But you know what I'm not scared of?" I continue, my voice getting stronger.
"I'm not scared of her having opinions that differ from mine.
I'm not scared of her succeeding at something I can't do.
I'm not scared of her being herself instead of some version of herself that makes me feel more important. "
The seatbelt finally gives way, and I can see the full extent of the damage. Broken ribs, probably a punctured lung. Internal bleeding.
He needs a hospital, and fast.
"She loves me," Riley says desperately, and for the first time, he sounds like the scared little boy I remember from when we were kids. "She wore my ring. She said yes. That has to count for something."
"She loved who she thought you were," I correct gently. "Before she realized that love shouldn't hurt like it did with you. Before she learned the difference between being wanted and being possessed."
Above us, I can hear Jamie coordinating with the medical team, the sound of equipment being lowered down the cliff face.
They'll have him stabilized and out of here within the hour.
If I want him to survive. And with that fucking look on his face, I still haven't decided.
The smell of gasoline is getting stronger, and I notice a dark puddle spreading beneath the car. Fuel leak. With the engine block still steaming and the electrical system potentially compromised, we're sitting on a potential bomb.
I could mention it to the team above. Could take my time with the extraction, maybe wait for additional equipment that might not arrive in time.
Or I could do what I was trained to do.
Save the life in front of me, regardless of whether that life deserves saving.
"Why are you doing this?" Riley asks, his voice getting weaker. "Why are you helping me? After everything I've done to you. To her."
The question hangs in the cold air between us, heavy with the weight of our entire fucked-up family history.
"Because the woman I love taught me something," I say, working to get the backboard positioned behind him. "She taught me that I get to choose who I am. Every single day, I get to choose."
I think about Molly's face when she called me out for trying to protect her like Riley used to. How she stood up for herself, demanded to be treated as an equal partner instead of a fragile possession.
"And I choose to face my demons now. Not run from them. To be the kind of man who saves lives," I continue, signaling to Jamie to start the lift. "Even when those lives belong to people who don't deserve saving. Even when it would be easier to walk away and let them die."
"She's going to leave you," Riley says weakly, but there's no conviction in it anymore. "When the novelty wears off. When she realizes you're just another damaged man like me. You haven't saved her, Beau."
"Maybe," I admit, securing the straps around his torso. "But until she does, I'm going to love her like she deserves to be loved."
The backboard starts to rise, and I clip myself to the secondary line. Below us, the gasoline finally finds an ignition source.
Flames lick at the undercarriage of the car, spreading faster than I expected in the wind. In another few minutes, the whole thing is going to go up.
But we're clear. Riley's clear.
And despite everything he's done, everything he's put Molly through, he's going to live.
Because I'm not him. I'll never be him.
I'm the man who builds instead of destroys. Who chooses mercy over revenge. Who loves without conditions.
I'm the man Molly Jennings chose to love back.
The explosion comes, sounds like thunder rolling through the valley. I feel the heat of it against my back as Jamie's team hauls us up the cliff face, Riley strapped to the backboard below me, now unconscious but breathing.
By the time my boots hit solid ground, the wreckage is a fireball lighting up the night sky, sending black smoke into the falling snow. In a few hours, there won't be anything left but twisted metal and scorched earth.
But that's okay. Because she's still here. Still choosing me. Still believing that I'm worth choosing.
The medical team immediately takes over Riley's care, loading him into an ambulance with Sheriff Cooper riding shotgun.
There will be questions later. Charges filed. Consequences for stalking, harassment, theft. I'll make damn sure of it, and any legal case Riley was plotting will be thrown out of court before it's even seen.
But right now, I don't care about any of that.
All I care about is the woman running toward me through the snow, her face streaked with tears and relief.
"You did it," Molly breathes, throwing her arms around my neck with enough force to nearly knock me over. "You saved him. You beautiful, amazing, impossible man, you saved him."
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in vanilla and snow and the scent of home.
She pulls back to look at me, her green eyes bright with tears and awe.
"I love you," she says simply. "Not because you saved him. Not because you're a hero. But because you chose to be the man I fell in love with."
Around us, the emergency crews are packing up, the immediate crisis over. Jamie claps me on the shoulder with pride. Sheriff Cooper gives me a nod of respect through the window of the ambulance. The town that adopted a broken soldier three years ago watches their boy come home.
But all I see is her. All I want is her.
"Take me home," I whisper against her forehead.
"We're already there," she whispers back.
And as we walk toward the rescue truck through the falling snow, past the flashing lights and the smoky remains of what used to be her car, I realize she's right.
Home isn't a place. It's not even the cabin I built to escape my past.
Home is love.
Home is Molly.