Chapter 5
Five
This was supposed to be the easy part.
The following morning, Teague stared up the sixty-foot climb, fingers curling around sandstone that was rough under his hands.
The rock still held last night’s chill, but the first sun rays cresting the ridge were already warming his shoulders.
Behind him, boots scuffed gravel. Gear clinked.
The low murmur of seven climbers preparing for what should have been a simple training exercise.
Should have been.
“I’ll wave from the anchors, Hamilton.” Kyle Morrison’s voice echoed off the sandstone walls, his grin wide and challenging. The guy stood near the base of Team Two’s route, chalking his hands as if he were preparing for Olympic trials instead of a communication drill. “Try to keep up.”
Teague adjusted his harness. “That’s cute, Morrison. You bring a stopwatch, or should I just use the hour hand to track how long it takes you?”
“Children.” Noah stepped between them, radio in hand, blond hair blowing forward in the morning breeze. “Can we pretend to be professionals for five minutes?”
“He started it,” Teague mumbled
The look Noah sent him left no room for argument.
“This isn’t a race. The goal is to make sure everyone’s comfortable on the rope and understands each other’s signals before we head into the backcountry.
We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and I need teams that can communicate, not compete.
Don’t forget, if we find this cache, we can reopen the park and save the rest of the season.
People’s livelihoods are on the line here. ”
“No pressure,” Trey mumbled.
“Standard protocols. Constant communication. If anything feels off, you call it. Understood?” Noah’s voice boomed again.
“Hear that, Hamilton? Think you can follow?” Kyle yelled again.
Teague shot him a look. “What do you mean by that?” The guy was getting under his skin.
“I mean you’ve got a reputation for…creative problem-solving.” He got a glance at Eden. “Some people might call it reckless.”
Teague turned to Eden, but she was staring at the ground, her cheeks a touch red. When he looked back up, he found Kyle watching them with a wide grin.
“Yeah, well—”
“Enough.” Noah stepped between them again. “Save the testosterone for the climb.” He shot Teague a look that promised a conversation later.
“Understood,” they chorused.
But Kyle wasn’t done. “For fun—how about the first team to the top doesn’t have to clean and inventory all the gear tonight?”
Noah opened his mouth, no doubt to shut it down.
“You’re on.” The words left Teague’s mouth before his brain caught up.
Eden’s head turned. He could feel her stare boring into the side of his skull. But he wasn’t really in the mood to meet her gaze. Not after she’d evidently thrown him under the bus with Kyle.
Truth was, he’d check the gear later, win or lose, but he wouldn’t mind wiping that grin off the guy’s face.
“Eden, you sure you picked the right team?” Sierra’s voice carried across the gap between teams, her tone teasing. The girl was no doubt trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, Hamilton’s pretty, but can he actually climb?”
“Pretty?” Teague pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer ‘ruggedly handsome.’”
“I prefer ‘delusional,’” Eden deadpanned.
Liam burst out laughing, his light-brown hair flopping in his eyes. “And that’s why I like her.”
Eden bit back a smile, but something was off. She was too tight, too on edge. Finally, she looked up at Sierra. “Don’t underestimate my team. I’ve seen you bail on crimpers half the size of what’s up there. Should I have brought a ladder?”
Sierra’s mouth dropped open. “Okay, first of all—five-four is average, not short.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Trey was in full-on laughter. “I’ve missed you two together.”
Eden turned, and Teague caught her eye for a half second. There it was again. Nerves? Competitive drive? Whatever it was, it wasn’t the same Eden that he’d stood with on the edge of the rock yesterday.
He leaned in closer. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
Maybe he was wrong. Nothing had seemed quite right since that moment that had passed between them on yesterday’s climb.
Focus, Hamilton.
He turned to his team. “Marcus, you’re second. Xander, third. Eden, you anchor.”
“Standard formation.” Eden nodded approval. “Solid choice.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Xander moved closer, adjusting his gear. “You two always like this?”
“Like what?” they said in unison.
Xander’s eyebrows rose. “Never mind.”
“On my go.” Noah positioned himself between the two routes, clearly still annoyed about the bet. “And for the record—this is still not a race.”
“Sure it isn’t,” Kyle muttered.
Teague eyed the path before him and braced his foot on the rock.
He’d spotted a jug about ten feet up—bigger holds than the standard start, requiring a powerful first move but offering a significant lead if he could stick it.
The kind of risk that paid off when it worked.
He found a good grip with both hands, then waited for the signal.
“Go.”
Teague exploded upward.
His fingers brushed the edge. Dug in. The rock bit into his skin, but the pain was welcome—it meant the hold was solid. He swung his leg left, found a foothold, and pushed himself into a stable position.
“Show-off,” Eden called from below. But there was admiration in her voice.
“That’s Mr. Show-Off to you.”
“Less talking, more climbing.” But her voice sounded lighter than it had before.
Sierra’s voice carried across the gap. “Okay, color me impressed. Please tell me he’s single, Eden.”
Teague’s rhythm faltered for just a second.
“Focus on your own team, Sierra.” Eden’s voice carried that edge of humor. “And I’ll focus on mine.”
“Yeah, I see you focusing on yours. And that’s not an answer.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Interesting.” Sierra’s tone went singsong. “Very interesting.”
Teague kept climbing, but his mind snagged on that non-answer. He was very much single. Eden knew that. So why not simply say it?
Unless…
He forced himself to focus. Reach, test, commit. His muscles remembered this—the burn in his forearms, the way his core engaged to keep his weight balanced. Below, Eden fed rope through her belay device with practiced precision.
“Safe! Off belay!” His call echoed off the canyon walls as he reached the first anchor point.
A glance at Team Two showed Liam still working through the crux of their first pitch. Teague’s opening move had put them in the lead.
But not by much.
Marcus came up next—slower, more cautious. Then Xander, steady and methodical. By the time Eden reached the ledge, Team Two was regrouping on their own anchor point just fifty feet away.
“Nice moves.” Kyle’s voice carried across the gap, dripping condescension. “For a warm-up.”
“Ignore him,” Eden murmured.
“I’m ignoring.” Teague shrugged.
“You’re grinding your teeth.”
“That’s my ignoring face.”
Eden’s mouth curved. “You need a better ignoring face.”
Teague studied the second pitch. An overhang dominated the center—not extreme, but enough to require careful technique. The crux. Where he could pull ahead for good.
“I’m taking the left route,” he said.
Eden moved to his side, tracking the same line. Her brow furrowed.
“The left route’s unstable.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “See the discoloration? Water’s been seeping through—weakening the sandstone.”
“The holds are bigger on the left. Faster.”
“Faster doesn’t matter if the rock gives out.” She pointed again. “And you’d have to place anchors at an unsafe distance. One slip and you’re looking at a twenty-foot fall before anything catches you.”
“I climbed this route in June.”
“And that was before the earthquake and before the early monsoons last month.” She held his gaze. “Both of which no doubt weakened that sandstone. The route you climbed weeks ago isn’t the same route today.”
He knew she was right. Could see the logic in everything she said.
But Kyle was already starting up Team Two’s second pitch. And the competitive fire burning in Teague’s chest drowned out reason.
“I’ll be careful.”
“You don’t know how to be careful. It’s not in your DNA.”
“Then I’ll do what I do best.” He flashed her a grin that felt forced even to him. “Not fall.”
“Teague—”
“I know what I’m doing.”
The words came out sharper than he intended. He watched Eden’s expression shift—hurt flickering across her features before she locked it down behind professional neutrality.
“Your call, leader.” She stepped back.
Teague immediately wanted to take the words back. To cross the narrow ledge and tell her he was sorry—that he’d listen, that he valued her input, that winning some stupid bet wasn’t worth hurting her.
But Kyle was making progress. And Teague’s pride was louder than his sense.
He clipped into the rope and started climbing.
The first fifteen feet went well. Solid holds. Positive feedback. His confidence built with each move.
Below, Marcus called encouragement. Xander added his voice. Eden stayed silent.
Teague committed to his planned sequence. Reach for the jug—solid. Heel hook on the small ledge—good purchase. Transfer weight to prepare for the dyno—
The rock shifted under his foot.
Not much. Just a subtle grinding sensation.
But enough.
He aborted the dynamic move and scrambled for the nearest handhold. His fingers closed around stone that crumbled under pressure.
Panic flared in his chest.
He slammed his other hand onto a better hold. His feet scraped against the rock face—one found a small edge, the other dangled in empty air.
Stuck. Halfway through a sequence he couldn’t complete. Unable to go up or down without risking a fall.
“Teague?” Eden’s voice drifted up, tight with concern.
“I’m good. Just reassessing.”
A lie. His muscles were already burning. Every second increased the risk of something giving out completely.
Across the gap, Kyle had stopped climbing to watch. Perfect. An audience for his failure.
“Need a hand, Hamilton?” Kyle’s voice carried across the distance. “Or maybe a ladder?”
“That’s enough, Kyle.” Sierra’s voice, surprisingly sharp.