Chapter 9 #2
She forced her eyes to focus on his face. The scruff along his jaw. The concern pulling at his mouth. The intensity in his gaze—those green eyes with their flecks of gold, anchoring her when everything else was spinning.
“You’re panicking. Breathe with me.” His voice was calm. “In through your nose.” He demonstrated, his chest expanding slowly. “Out through your mouth.”
Eden tried to follow, but her breath hitched halfway through.
“Again. With me.”
Teague breathed in—slow, measured—and she matched him. In through her nose. The scent of dust and sage and warm stone. Out through her mouth.
The bands around her chest loosened. Slightly.
“That’s it.”
They breathed together, his hands firm on her shoulders, until the panic receded enough for her to think clearly.
“I don’t think I can do this.” The words came out barely above a whisper.
“You can.” Teague leaned closer—close enough that she could smell the limestone dust clinging to his shirt. “But I need you here with me. Not up in your head.”
“Teague—”
He pressed his forehead to hers.
The contact was gentle, grounding. His skin was warm, slightly damp from the early evening heat, and she registered his breath against her face. Calm. Even. Real.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly. “I’m right here.”
Eden closed her eyes. She focused on the point of contact between them. On his regular breathing. On his presence cutting through the cold fear.
Slowly, the trembling through her body began to ease.
After a long moment, Teague pulled back. He took her hand and pressed it flat against the rock face beside them.
The stone was still warm from the sun. Textured and solid under her palm.
“‘The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer.’” Teague’s voice took on a different quality. Reverent. “‘My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.’” He paused. “‘Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.’”
Eden stared at where her hand met stone. Formed at the dawn of creation, compressed by time into something she could touch.
“After Chip died, I had so many questions.” Teague kept his hand over hers. “Doubts about my faith. All the whys wouldn’t leave me. Why him? Why that day? Why couldn’t I have done something different?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“But God compares Himself to a rock for a reason. He’s strong enough to handle any question I have. All my anger. All my fear. And He’s unmovable.” His thumb traced across her knuckles. “That’s why I love climbing. It reminds me how big the God we serve is.”
“But the rock wasn’t strong today.” Eden’s voice cracked. “It failed. You almost died.”
“Sometimes life throws us for a spin.” His green eyes held hers. “But the rock held when it mattered. That second cam caught me because I was anchored into the rock.”
“Barely.” A tear slipped free. “Maybe I should have stayed away from climbing. I can’t—”
Teague’s thumb brushed across her cheekbone, wiping away the tear. The touch sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear.
“Why did you agree to climb again?”
The question hung between them.
“To keep you safe.” The admission was like opening a wound. “And I failed at that.”
Teague caught her hand and brought it to his chest. Held it there, over his heart.
The steady beat pulsed against her palm. Strong. Alive.
“You feel that?” His voice was low. Intense. “I’m alive. I’m okay. The rock did hold. We use more than one anchor for a reason. The system worked exactly how it was supposed to.”
His heart continued to thump against her hand—regular, reassuring.
Another tear escaped.
Maybe he was right.
She kept saying her life was shifting sand—unstable, ready to give way at any moment. But maybe that was the point. Maybe life was always going to throw the unexpected at her. Jobs. Family. Loss. It came at everyone.
And maybe the difference wasn’t found in changing the circumstances.
Maybe it was found in anchoring into the One who was unmovable.
She met his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” A hint of a smile.
She shifted to face him more fully, her hand still pressed against his chest. “Really. You would be justified to send me packing. To—”
“What are you talking about?” His finger turned her face toward him.
“What kind of monster do you think I am? I wouldn’t even send Marcus packing, and he’s about as useful on a rock face as a chocolate teapot.
” Something flickered in his expression.
“You mean…you thought I would just abandon you? Do you really think that little of me?”
“No. I…” Eden exhaled. “I’m sorry. It’s just…my father left when I was eight. My friends in high school chose parties over me. My prom date even left me at the dance to go home with another girl.” Her voice dropped. “Landon just had to do one more climb…”
She swallowed hard. “I’m used to being left. But I shouldn’t put you in that category.”
“No. You shouldn’t.” His hand landed gently on her jaw. “First of all, I would never leave you behind. Second, your father, your friends…Landon…That was about them and their issues. Not you.”
He paused. A smile tugged at his mouth. “And third? Your prom date had to have been the dumbest guy in the world. Did he not have eyes?”
Despite everything, Eden’s lips curved. “Apparently not.”
“His loss.” Teague’s thumb traced along her jaw. His eyes dropped to her mouth.
And Eden’s breath caught for a whole different reason.
His face was inches from hers. His other hand still held hers against his chest. The golden light wrapped around them both, and for one suspended moment she thought—
He stepped back.
Dropped his hands.
The air went slightly cool.
“Lead.” His voice was rougher than before. Strained.
Eden blinked. “What?”
“You’re leading this route. I’ll follow.” Teague moved to the base of the climb, already pulling out the rope. “Come on, Garrison. Show me what you’ve got.”
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack. Which, by the way, you’re not having, so stop looking at me like I just asked you to free solo El Capitan.”
She geared up. But her legs were shaky as she approached the wall.
This was insane. She couldn’t lead right now. Couldn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to place protection safely, to—
“Stop.” Teague’s voice cut through. “Stop thinking and just climb.”
Eden reached for the first hold. Her fingers found the edge automatically, years of muscle memory guiding her hand even as her mind screamed that this was a mistake.
She pulled up. Found a foothold. Placed a cam in an obvious crack—the trigger clicking satisfyingly as the lobes expanded against solid stone. Clipped her rope. Moved higher.
But every placement seemed wrong. Every hold suspect. She tested a feature three times before trusting it with her weight.
“This isn’t working.” She was maybe ten feet up, already exhausted. “I can’t—”
Suddenly Teague was right behind her.
She hadn’t heard him unclip. Hadn’t registered him starting up the wall. But now he was there—close enough that she could register the warmth of his body at her back, his breath against her ear.
“Stop overthinking.” His voice was low. Intimate. “God gifted you to do this. Now draw a breath and read the rock.”
Eden inhaled slowly. The stone was solid under her hands. Real. Trustworthy.
“That’s it.” Teague’s voice was still close. “What does the rock tell you?”
She looked up. Really looked this time.
Not through a filter of fear and doubt. But with the eyes of someone who’d been reading stone since her teens. Someone who’d spent thousands of hours learning the language of rock—the grain, the texture, the subtle clues that separated bomber holds from death traps.
The route unfolded before her.
Obvious now. A diagonal traverse to a good ledge, then straight up using a finger crack that would take perfect placements. Clean. Solid. Right.
Her hands moved without conscious thought. Place a cam. Clip. Move up. Find the next hold. Trust the features that have been there all along.
The climb opened up above her.
And once again, Eden found the familiar flow state she’d forgotten existed. Not thinking, just moving. Reading and responding. Trusting not herself but the rock.
Trusting God.
She pulled over the top onto a small plateau, and the view stole what little breath she had left.
The canyon spread out below in layers of ancient stone. The evening light painted everything in shades of burnt orange and brick red. The brook wound through the rock, catching the sun and throwing it back in fragments of gold.
Worth it.
The climb had been scary and hard, and it had pushed every boundary she’d built around herself—but it had been worth it.
Eden settled onto a flat rock, letting her legs dangle over the edge.
Something inside her chest that had been clenched tight for two years finally loosened its grip.
It wasn’t the climbing. It was leaning again into her faith.
Trusting the God who created her to do this.
She didn’t have it all figured out. But it was a start.
She’d come out here to protect Teague. To keep him safe, to prevent another tragedy.
But there was no way to be safe enough. Careful enough.