Chapter 9
Nine
Teague had fallen forty feet today. But it wasn’t that fall that scared him.
He knelt beside the brook, working the intake hose of the filtration system into a shallow pool. The water was cold against his fingers. Clear enough to see rust-colored pebbles lining the bottom.
His ribs protested the movement. A dull ache that sharpened when he twisted wrong. The scrapes on his arms stung, and the gouge in his elbow throbbed with each pulse.
But he’d live. He’d taken worse falls.
“Hand me that coupling.” Xander crouched beside him and held out his palm.
Teague passed him the piece, watching as Xander threaded it onto the pump assembly. Late-afternoon sun filtered through the scrub oak, dappling the ground with shifting shadows. They’d found this spot about a quarter mile from the cliff—shade, flat ground for bedrolls, and water access.
Not where Teague had planned to camp.
They should have been halfway to the next climb by now. They weren’t on a tight deadline, but every hour they spent not searching for the final chest was another hour the campground remained closed.
But one look at Eden’s face when they’d reached the canyon floor had told him they weren’t climbing again today.
She’d been quiet on the hike here. Not comfortable quiet—heavy silence. The kind that said she was drowning in her own thoughts. She’d helped set up camp with mechanical efficiency, her body going through the motions while her mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere dark.
Teague recognized that look. He’d worn it himself in the months after Chip died. The mental replay of regret. The self-blame.
“You think she’s okay?” Xander’s voice pulled him back.
Teague glanced toward where Eden had disappeared upstream twenty minutes ago. “No, but she will be.”
“That was rough up there.”
Rough didn’t cover it.
Teague could still hear the sharp crack of his helmet hitting limestone. Still taste the fear that flooded his mouth when that first cam ripped free.
But he was here. Bruised and scraped, but alive.
“She made the call she thought was right.” Teague secured the hose with a stone. “The rock quality looked questionable in that crack. Water staining, color variation. She wasn’t wrong to be cautious.”
“But she was wrong about the slab.”
“Rock fails sometimes.” Teague straightened slowly, his ribs complaining. “Doesn’t matter how experienced you are. Sometimes stone that looks solid just…isn’t.”
Xander twisted the coupling tight. “You’re being awfully philosophical about almost dying.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
“I’ve made bad calls too.” Teague wiped his hands on his pants. “Last summer I placed protection in a flake that turned out to be completely detached. Built an anchor once on a ledge that was basically sitting on ball bearings.”
Xander smiled slightly. “Or that time you jumped across eight feet of air like a crazy person.”
“Exactly.” A rueful exhale. “She still hasn’t forgiven me for that one.”
Xander studied him for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—understanding, maybe, or resignation. “You’ve got it bad.”
Teague could have denied it. Could have played it off as professional concern or teammate solidarity.
But Xander had been watching them the past couple days. He wasn’t stupid.
“Yeah.” The admission scraped out. “I do.”
Xander nodded slowly. “For what it’s worth? I think she has it pretty bad for you too.”
Teague’s mind returned to the slight nod during karaoke as the filtration pump hummed to life. Xander sat back on his heels.
“So go find her and get her to climb again. Marcus and I can handle dinner. You and I both know that if she sits in this all night, tomorrow won’t go well.
” He tossed Teague the radio. “Take that. I haven’t been able to connect with base.
Signal’s not going through. Maybe you’ll have better luck higher up. ”
Teague clipped the radio to his belt. No signal? Great. One more thing to worry about.
But not right now.
He found her about a hundred yards upstream.
She sat on a flat boulder overlooking a small waterfall—really more of a cascade where the brook tumbled over a three-foot drop. Her blonde braid hung over one shoulder. Knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. She didn’t turn when he approached, but her shoulders stiffened.
“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away.
“Hey.” Her voice was nearly lost under the sound of falling water.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Would it matter if I said yes?”
“Probably not.” He settled onto the boulder beside her, his ribs protesting with a sharp complaint. The canyon stretched before them, late-afternoon light turning everything gold. “Nice view.”
“Are you really here for small talk?”
“I’m here because you’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”
Eden’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Let me guess. Something along the lines of ‘I almost got him killed’ and ‘I can’t trust my judgment’ and ‘Everyone I care about is one bad decision away from disaster.’” He glanced at her. “How am I doing?”
She didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
“I need you to gear up,” he said.
That got her attention. She turned to look at him, confusion and alarm crossing her face. “What?”
“You and me. We’re going for a climb.” He gestured back toward camp. “There’s a nice moderate route about fifty feet from where we’re set up. Good stone, easy approach. We’ve got several hours of daylight.”
“Teague, you’re hurt—”
“Bruised and scraped. There’s a difference.”
“You fell forty feet.”
“And the rope caught me. That’s kind of the point of ropes.” He held her gaze. “You’re spiraling. So we’re going to climb. Besides, it turns out we need to get high enough to check the radio.”
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“You’re insane.”
“Also probably.” He pushed himself to standing, ribs screaming in protest, and extended a hand down to her. “Come on.”
She stared at his hand but didn’t move. “Why?”
“Because you need to remember who you are.”
“You’re Eden Garrison. You know rock better than almost anyone I’ve ever climbed with.” He kept his hand extended. Steady. Sure. “One bad hold doesn’t change that.”
“I almost got you killed.”
“No.” He didn’t waver. “The rock failed. That’s not the same thing. I trusted your judgment then, and I’ll trust it tomorrow and the day after that.”
“Why?” Her voice cracked on the word.
“Because I trust you.” He let the words land. Simple. True. “Period. End of sentence. No qualifications.”
Her eyes were bright. Suspiciously so. But she didn’t look away. “I don’t know if I can trust myself.”
“I know.” His voice gentled. “That’s why we’re climbing.”
He wiggled his fingers. “Marcus and Xander won’t burn dinner for at least a couple hours. Plenty of time.”
“Wow. You have a lot of faith in their cooking skills.”
“Freeze-dried meals are hard to mess up, so maybe we’ll be lucky.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across her face. “I don’t know. I heard Marcus scream when a lizard surprised him today. I am not sure he is ready to boil water yet.”
“Then we’d better hurry.” He wiggled his fingers again. “Come on, Garrison. Don’t make me beg. It’s bad for my rugged image.”
“Rugged.” She almost laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“I believe the official term is ‘ruggedly handsome.’ But I’ll accept ‘devastatingly attractive’ if you prefer.”
“How about ‘annoyingly persistent’?”
“I’ll take it.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. The waterfall murmured beside them. Sunlight caught in her blonde hair, turning it white.
Then slowly, carefully, she reached up and took his hand.
Her grip was firm despite the tremor in her fingers. He pulled her to standing—ribs complaining but bearable—and didn’t let go until she was steady on her feet.
Their eyes held for a beat longer than necessary.
“This is crazy,” she muttered.
“Yeah.” He started back toward camp, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was following. “But the best things usually are.”
“Did you practice that line?”
“Came up with it on the spot, actually. Pretty good, right?”
“It was okay.”
He grinned. “I’ll take it.”
The canyon walls glowed gold in the late-afternoon sun. Somewhere ahead, there was a climb waiting. Nothing fancy. Nothing dangerous. Just stone and movement and the chance for Eden to remember what her hands already knew.
The gold could wait another day.
This couldn’t.
This had to be the worst decision ever.
Eden’s hands trembled as she clipped the carabiner to her harness. The metal was cold against her palms—foreign, untrustworthy—despite years of muscle memory that should have made the motion automatic.
She could do this. She’d done it a thousand times before.
Except she couldn’t.
Because the last time she’d trusted her judgment on rock, Teague had fallen and nearly died.
The route rose fifty feet from the campsite—a moderate climb, maybe 5.
7 at most. The kind of thing she could have soloed in her sleep a couple years ago.
The stone face caught the evening light, turning the stone orange, and she could see the holds clearly.
Good edges. Positive features. Straightforward movement.
But it might as well have been Everest.
“You’re overthinking it.” Teague’s voice came from beside her—patient and steady despite the bruises hidden beneath his shirt.
“I know.” Eden stared up at the wall. Her breath came shorter than it should. The familiar pre-climb focus she used to find so easily kept slipping away, replaced by flashes of Teague’s body pitching backward. The sickening sound of the cam ripping free. The thud when he hit the wall.
Her fault.
All of it.
“Eden.” Teague moved closer, his green eyes finding hers. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
But her chest was tight. Constricted. The edges of her vision started to blur.
She couldn’t do this.
What had she been thinking? She’d quit climbing for a reason. She’d walked away because everyone she tried to protect ended up—
“Hey.” Teague’s hands found her shoulders. Warm. Solid. Grounding. “Look at me.”