Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Present day, Leavenworth: Tabitha
The granite was cool to the touch, not yet warmed by the mid-morning sun.
A certain ineffable electricity buzzed through her body.
A mix of the familiar thrill that she’d nearly forgotten and the more recent anxiety that accompanied her since the accident whenever she considered climbing outdoors.
But standing at the base of an enormous crag was a jolting reminder of both sensations.
Soon, I’ll be all the way up there.
Her throat dried as the realization zinged through her limbs to the tips of her toes, which were comfortably tucked into her favorite climbing shoes.
It all felt like déjà vu. Like she was replaying a hazy memory while clinging to the familiar feeling more than the activity itself.
Despite her reservations, Tabitha felt in her core that it had been too long since her last multi-pitch.
She fought to press away the lingering fear and allow a feeling of excitement to jump to the forefront.
It was a struggle, because her mind kept returning to the accident three years ago.
To the terrifying fall.
To the shattered femur.
To the six months of grueling physical therapy.
Tabitha looked over at Zac, who seated the rope into his Grigri.
The muscles beneath his shirt worked as he positioned the flaked rope just so.
God, he had bulked up over the years. He’d aged but only managed to improve.
She hadn’t. Despite the regular indoor climbing, she’d allowed herself to soften, and she worried about how that would translate to the wall.
Would she be able to complete the multi-pitch?
Would they have to abandon the climb and rappel down? Would she fall and hurt herself?
Enough.
She halted the negative self-talk. It would get her nowhere.
She had this. And there was no way Zac would drop her.
While he hadn’t protected her heart all those years ago, she knew in her soul that he wouldn’t let anything physically harm her.
So she took a series of deep breaths and centered herself.
Urged her mind to go blank so she could visualize the feat ahead. She looked over her shoulder at Zac.
“Climbing,” she stated loudly.
“Climb on,” was his response.
Her hands settled onto the rock and with a final steady breath she lifted off.
The drag of her fingertips against the cool stone was so comforting.
Her toes found the right footholds and she rose steadily.
As she approached the first bolt, her muscle memory had taken over.
The quickdraw came off of her harness and with seamless expertise, she hooked it onto the wall.
“Clipping,” she called down to her belayer.
Zac responded instantly by feeding slack up to her so she could raise the rope to loop it through the bottom carabiner on the quickdraw. “Clipped.”
Below her, he expertly took up the majority of the slack. Tuned into nothing but her movements, her progress up the rock. “You’re on belay, tabby cat.”
The words were like caffeine straight into her veins. He had her, no matter what, Zac would keep her safe. The sudden rush of confidence consumed her and propelled her up. The smell of the sun-warmed trees and her own sunscreen invaded her senses, giving her yet another peaceful thing to focus on.
She wasn’t sure how long it took her to get to the top, but as soon as she set her anchor and yelled down to Zac to “take,” she was instantly transformed.
Reverted back to a time when this was all second nature and she could practically climb in her sleep.
Though minor, the achievement filled her with a sense of pride. Her chest puffed up and she grinned.
“I’ve got you,” her belayer called from down below.
After careful adjustment, she settled herself into a comfortable position to belay Zac up to the anchor.
It didn’t take him long, and she relished the view of his straining muscles as he ascended the route she’d just completed.
The first pitch hadn’t been challenging.
The 5.7 rating was a great warm up—for her muscles and mental fortitude—even if it was the easiest route they’d climb that day.
“How did that feel, Tabitha?” Zac asked as he reached the anchor and settled himself in to swap to the next pitch.
The formal use of her name might have had a chilling effect earlier that morning, but since she was running on the high of the climb, her attentions were focused on the remaining three pitches.
“It was great.”
“Nerves gone?” he asked gently with an affectionate smirk.
“What nerves?” she teased back.
“That’s my girl,” he volleyed, but his grin faltered as though he caught what he said and realized she wasn’t his girl at all.
Tabitha refused to allow the awkwardness to move in and upset the rest of the day. She glanced out from the wall. They were above the trees now. But only just so. The sun had steadily risen and the granite was warmer than the shaded slab below.
“The next pitch is primarily a crack climb,” Zac began as though Tabitha hadn’t memorized the exact details of the route days before she and Lark had arrived in Leavenworth. She was a preparer—always and forever.
“My favorite,” she beamed.
“I remember,” he responded as he prepped the anchor and his belay device for the second pitch.
They’d climbed a bit together outside at a few spots off Interstate 90 all those years ago, but in all honesty they’d spent more time talking and learning about each other than doing the actual climbing.
But on one particular outing, they’d climbed a massive crack that was as challenging as it was fun.
She’d taken a little whipper and scraped up her shin and the side of her jaw, but it wasn’t a big deal.
She’d experienced much worse before. But one would have thought by the way Zac had responded that she’d broken herself in four places.
He’d barely agreed to belaying her the rest of the way to the top.
If he’d had his way, he would have lowered her right then and there, lost gear be damned.
But of course she made it to the top and cleaned her way down and into the crushing arms of her lover, who happened to be sick with worry.
“I’ll try not to fall this time around,” Tabitha offered good-naturedly, but his face darkened.
“Good girl. No flesh wounds today, got it?”
A tingle went up her spine at his words.
Though they were meant to be innocuous, the heft of them settled on her shoulders regardless.
She linked eyes with Zac and clocked his blown pupils.
The moniker may have slipped out of his mouth but it hadn’t escaped his notice.
She didn’t dare look down to see if he was just as aroused as his face would have her believe .
. . that would be too obvious. Though she was confident in assuming he was hot for her.
Me too, buddy. Me too.
After all the necessary checks and rechecks, Tabitha worked her way up the next pitch.
God, she loved crack climbs. The idea of cramming her feet and hands into a split in the rock that didn’t seem like it should be there had her buzzing.
Through and through, they were fun. As she worked her way higher, the sun warmed her skin.
Sweat began to bead on her forehead and dampen her palms. A grippy pocket provided the perfect hold to hang on while she chalked her hands for a better traction.
The final ledge of the climb came into view.
Zac hadn’t been lying. The ledge at the midway point was substantial.
A few large boulders perched around on one side, making perfect seats to take a load off.
Plenty of space for multiple people to relax safely while they took a break.
She reached the top bolts, set her anchor and settled against one of the boulders as she began to belay Zac up to her. In no time, he reached the ledge.
“Halfway there, tabby cat,” he beamed while they disassembled their anchors and moved away from the edge.
“Halfway,” she repeated.