Chapter 10 #3
“A couple hours ago, you said I was a pessimist.”
“You’re right. You should make up your mind.”
“You’re impossible. You know that, right?”
“That’s what my mom always said.” He leaned back on his hands, tilting his face toward the sun. The light caught his curls, turning them to copper and gold. “I could get used to this.”
“The canyon is amazing.”
His eyes slid to hers. Held. “Not the canyon. This. Climbing. Talking. Time just hanging out with you.”
She kept her gaze locked with his.
“Me too,” she said quietly. “And thanks for helping me. Getting me back on the rock…twice.”
“Anytime.” His hand found hers—warm and calloused and steady as he interlaced their fingers. “And I mean that. Anytime you need someone to remind you how incredible you are, I volunteer as tribute.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Did you just quote The Hunger Games at me?”
“Maybe.” His grin widened. “It’s a classic. Or will be eventually.”
“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.”
“Go with impressed. Better for my ego.”
“Your ego doesn’t need the help.”
“That’s hurtful.”
“That’s accurate.”
“You are impossible to compliment.”
“You like a challenge, right?”
He laughed—a warm sound that loosened something in her chest she hadn’t realized was tight. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and the laughter faded into something quieter, more personal.
“I’ll take any challenge you throw at me.” He reached up and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, but didn’t drop his hand. “But as much as I love this, when we get out of the canyon, are you okay if I take you on a proper date?”
“Yes.” And with that word she knew, as much as she’d tried to fight it, she was all in. “As long as you aren’t going to do try and be all noble right now and not kiss me.”
“I wasn’t sure if—”
She answered by closing the distance between them.
His hand cradled her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone as he kissed her—slow and thorough, like he was memorizing the taste of her.
She felt it everywhere—the warmth of his palm against her skin, the solid strength of his chest as she braced her hand there, the way he angled his head to deepen the kiss until every muscle in her forgot its function entirely.
When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing harder than when they’d reached the top.
“We should head back.” Her voice came out like gravel, but he didn’t back up. “Before Xander decides Marcus has been difficult enough for one day.”
“Probably wise.” But still neither of them moved.
“And before I kiss you again. Because if I do that, the sun might set before we finish.”
She leaned back and bit her lip. Yup, that sounded about right. She drew in a slow breath through her nose and stood. “Come on, ranger. We’ve got a rappel to survive and a campsite full of drama waiting.”
“You really know how to sell a good time.”
“I’m a woman of many talents.”
“That,” he said, pushing to his feet, “I believe.”
They rappelled down as the afternoon stretched toward evening, the heat easing as shadows crept across the canyon floor. The hike back was easier than the morning’s tense march—comfortable silence broken by easy conversation about the rock, the route, the way the light painted the limestone.
Eden could see the camp ahead. Bedrolls bright against the neutral stone. Gear bags clustered near the fire ring.
Xander stood near a small fire, radio pressed to his ear. His posture was rigid. Focused.
Eden’s stomach clenched.
“What’s wrong?” Teague dropped his pack, already moving. His gait shifted from tired hiker to alert ranger in an instant.
Xander held up one hand. Static crackled from the radio.
Then Sierra’s voice cut through. High. Strained.
“—can’t wake him—”
More static.
“—trying but—”
Her words dissolved into interference.
Eden’s legs locked. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
The climber’s worst fear.
“Who’s hurt?” Teague was already beside Xander.
“Sierra, slow down.” Xander’s voice stayed level, but his knuckles had gone white around the radio. “Tell me what happened.”
Static. Then fragments of Sierra’s voice—breathing fast and uneven.
“Trey fell—”
Crackle.
“—leg—thinks it’s broken.”
The signal strengthened.
“But—”
Her voice cracked. Then dissolved into white noise.
“—so much blood—won’t respond—”
Eden’s world tilted.
Trey. Landon’s little brother. The one with his smile, his laugh, his easy confidence on the rock.
“Still can’t reach Noah at the station?” Teague reached for the radio.
“These radios should reach the rim from anywhere in the canyon.” Frustration bled through Teague’s calm. “Something’s wrong.”
“Sierra.” Xander’s tone sharpened. “Let me talk to Liam. Can you hear me?”
Static.
The pause stretched too long. Eden couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Then Sierra’s voice came back.
Smaller. Broken.
“It is Liam who hit his head. He’s not responding.”
The words landed like stones.
Two injured. One unconscious. Communication compromised. Miles of canyon between them and any hope of help.
And the sun was already sliding toward the western rim.