Chapter 11
Eleven
Four words on the radio, and Teague stepped back in time—watching his brother fall.
Liam down. Head injury.
His vision tunneled. Canyon walls pressed in. Dust rising. Someone falling. Auburn hair dark with—
No.
Not auburn. Dark brown. Not Chip. Liam.
But the memories didn’t care about details.
“We have to go.” His voice came out rough. “Now.”
“Teague—” Eden’s hand landed on his arm.
He shook her off and grabbed his map. “The other team’s camp is here.” His finger traced a gray dotted line. “This trail cuts the time in half.”
“That trail took damage in June.” Xander bent over the map. “The storms washed out half of it.”
“We’re not average hikers.”
“It’s getting late.” Xander kept his voice calm. “We should wait until—”
“Until what?” Teague spun to face him. “Until Liam’s head injury gets worse? Until internal bleeding kills him while we’re standing here debating?”
“Teague.” Eden stepped in front of him. “Take a breath.”
“I don’t need to breathe. I need to get to Liam.”
“And you will. But not if you get yourself killed on a washed-out trail in the dark.” Her blue eyes locked on his. “What happened to the guy who was learning to listen to his team?”
“That guy didn’t have a friend dying in the canyon.”
“Liam’s tough. He’s survived worse than—”
“You don’t know that.” His voice cracked. “Chip died because I wasn’t paying attention. Because I didn’t see the loose rock, didn’t move fast enough.” He grabbed his pack. “I’m not hesitating again.”
“This isn’t Chip.” Eden’s voice cut through.
“No. It’s Liam. And I’m not losing him too.”
Xander was already packing. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. You think the trail’s passable? Let’s find out.”
“He gets it.” Teague swung his pack onto his shoulders. His ribs screamed.
“I didn’t say that.” Xander shouldered his own pack. “But someone has to keep you from dying.” Xander glanced at Marcus, who stood packing without a word. “You good?”
Marcus nodded once. Pale but steady. “Let’s move.”
Ten minutes later, Teague was setting a brutal pace. Evening light faded fast—shadows pooling in the low places—but he didn’t slow down.
Couldn’t slow down.
The terrain got rougher. Loose scree. Boulder fields. Narrow sections where they had to turn sideways to squeeze through.
“Teague.” Eden’s voice came from behind. “You’re going to burn out.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have bruised ribs and a hero complex.”
He didn’t slow down.
They rounded a bend and stopped short.
The trail was gone.
Where there should have been a clear path, there was only a raw scar of red earth and broken stone. The storm had taken out an entire section—maybe thirty feet washed away, leaving nothing but a steep drop.
“Well.” Xander stared at the gap. “That’s inconvenient.”
“How long to go around?”
“Hour. Maybe more in the dark.”
An hour. Liam didn’t have an hour.
“There.” Marcus pointed to a faint path up the slope. “That might cut around faster.”
It wasn’t much more than a game trail. But it would have to do.
They scrambled up loose rock in the fading light. The trail switchbacked up the canyon wall, leveled out onto a plateau—
And ended at a gap.
The plateau continued on the other side. Maybe seven feet separated them from solid ground. But between here and there was a couple hundred feet of drop.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Xander rubbed a hand over his face.
“We can jump it.”
“Are you insane?” Eden’s voice went sharp. “That’s a two-hundred-foot drop.”
“But only seven feet across. I’ve made jumps like that dozens of times.”
“Not over a two-hundred-foot drop with no rope. Not with bruised ribs. Not after running yourself into the ground for an hour.” She stepped in front of him. “This is stupid.”
“This is necessary.”
“No, it’s suicidal. There’s a difference.”
“Liam doesn’t have time for us to go around.” He moved around her and tightened his pack.
“So you’ll risk your life jumping a canyon in near darkness?” Her voice rose. “That’s what you want to do?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want to do. It matters what Liam needs.”
“Teague, please.” Her voice cracked. “We’ll go around. We’ll move fast. But don’t—”
“I have to.” He couldn’t look at her. “You don’t get it, Eden. I have to.”
She stepped in front of him again—palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart.
“You think this is what Chip would want?” Her voice dropped. Tighter. “For you to die trying to make up for something that wasn’t your fault?”
The name hit like a blow.
“Don’t.” His jaw clenched. “Don’t talk about Chip.”
“Someone has to.” Her eyes were bright—tears she wouldn’t let fall. “Because you’re about to do something incredibly stupid because you can’t forgive yourself for something that happened five years ago that wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Her voice was fierce. “I know what it’s like to blame yourself. To think if you’d just been better, smarter, faster—” She stopped. Drew a breath. “But this isn’t about saving Liam. This is about punishing yourself. And I’m not going to stand here and watch you die for it.”
Quick footsteps followed by a scraping sound cut through the tension.
They turned to see Marcus land on the other side of the gap, dusting off his pants.
“What—” Teague stared. “How did you—”
Marcus shrugged. “High school long-jump record. Fifteen feet, three inches.” He looked back at them across the gap. “Also all-conference shortstop in baseball, but I doubt that’ll help.”
“You could have mentioned that before we spent ten minutes arguing,” Xander said.
“Do you want to know that I still hold the record for home runs in a season?” Marcus offered a half shrug.
Teague looked at the gap. At Marcus standing casually on the other side. At Eden’s pale, furious face.
“See?” He turned to her. “It’s fine. Marcus made it.”
“Marcus doesn’t have bruised ribs and an injured elbow.” Her voice shook. “Marcus got dinner before we left. Marcus—”
“Can apparently jump fifteen feet without a problem.” Teague backed up, measuring his approach. “I only need seven.”
“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for Liam.” Eden’s voice went cold. “This is about your need to risk your life. Your need to prove something that doesn’t need proving.”
He stared at her. Saw the hurt in her eyes. The fear. The anger.
“I’m sorry. But I’m going.”
“Then you’re going without me.” Her voice was final. “I’m not watching this.”
“Probably best. Xander, take Eden around the long way. Meet us at their camp.” His voice came out hard. Distant. “Marcus and I will go ahead.”
He didn’t miss the devastation in Eden’s eyes. He’d fix it later. Apologize. Make her understand.
Right now, someone needed him.
“Teague—” Eden started.
He didn’t wait.
Three steps. Four. Then he pushed off hard from the edge.
For a moment—nothing but air beneath him. Wind in his face. The drop yawning below.
Then his feet hit stone.
He rolled, absorbing the impact through his screaming ribs, and came up. Glanced back.
Eden had already turned away.
Right.
He nodded to Xander and set out at a brutal pace. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe.
Don’t think about what you might find when you get there.
When they finally saw the glow of camp lights ahead, Teague’s legs nearly gave out. He covered the last hundred yards at a sprint.
Sierra saw them first. She stood near the fire, her face streaked with tears. When she spotted Teague, her expression crumpled.
“Thank God.” Her voice broke. “We couldn’t reach anyone on the radio. It’s bad, Teague. It’s really bad.”
He dropped his pack and moved toward the bedroll where someone lay motionless.
Please. Please be okay.
“What happened?”
“Trey fell on the descent. I ran over to check him, and Liam screamed.” Sierra’s voice trembled. “Kyle said a rock broke off the shelf when I was moving toward Trey. Hit Liam before anyone could react.”
“Wasn’t he wearing a helmet?”
“He’d just gotten off the wall. He’d taken it off.” Her eyes filled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice any rocks shifting.”
Teague knelt beside Liam. His headlamp illuminated Liam’s pale face. A nasty bruise darkened his temple—angry purple spreading toward his hairline. His breathing was shallow but steady.
Alive. For now.
“How long has he been unconscious?”
“Just over two hours.” Sierra pressed her hand against her mouth. “He hasn’t woken up since it happened. I tried everything.”
Teague checked Liam’s pulse. Steady but weak. He lifted one eyelid—the pupil responded, but sluggishly.
“Liam.” He kept his voice calm. “Can you hear me? It’s Teague.” His voice cracked. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
No response. Just that terrible stillness.
“What about Trey?”
“Broken leg. Maybe his ankle too.” Sierra wiped at her face. “He’s in a lot of pain.”
Kyle stood near the fire, his expression unreadable.
Unlike Sierra—who looked ready to fall apart—Kyle seemed almost calm. Controlled. Like this was just another day in the canyon.
That wrongness registered somewhere in the back of Teague’s mind.
But he pushed it aside. Priorities.
“Eden and Xander are coming the long way around,” he told Kyle. “Watch for them.”
He turned back to Liam.
His ribs throbbed. His hands shook. Fear sat like lead in his stomach.
He couldn’t lose him.
Wouldn’t lose him.
Not like Chip.
Never again like Chip.
Eden stumbled into camp with burning lungs, trembling legs, and a growing list of things she wanted to say to Teague Hamilton.
None of them were nice.
The fire flickered against the darkness. Sleeping bags dotted the stone. Then she spotted him. He knelt beside Liam’s still form—calm, capable, completely focused on the injured man. He stood when he saw her. “Eden—”
“Not now.” So maybe that list would have to wait until she was not so angry.
Because right now, all she could manage was two words. Two words and the growing certainty that whatever this was between them, it was over. All in? She’d been a fool to think that was possible.
Teague had left her behind to sprint toward a seven-foot gap over a two-hundred-foot drop.
He’d actually left her.