Chapter 11 #4
She turned, and those striking blue eyes pinned him in place. “You’re not going anywhere, hotshot.”
“I can hike. The doctor said—”
“Hello.” She pointed to herself. “A doctor is standing right here. The surgeon said light activity. Walking around the station. Not a sixteen-hour forced march carrying a full pack.” She stepped closer, poked his chest.
“I’m fine.” The words tasted like a lie. “I can manage.”
“Noah.” Nimue’s voice was gentler but no less firm. “You’re three weeks out from surgery. You can’t do this kind of hike yet.”
The word yet should have offered comfort. It didn’t.
“Then what do you suggest?” His voice came out sharper than he intended. Easy. Breathe. “We just sit here and wait? Hope they’re okay?”
Meg’s jaw tightened. Nimue said nothing.
The silence pressed against him.
Noah stared at Nimue. “In June, when you and Liam were in trouble, Teague said he could feel it in his bones. I trusted his instincts. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here.” He swallowed. “Now you have to trust mine. Something is wrong out there. They’re counting on us.”
“And they’d want you to be smart about this.” Meg crossed her arms—doctor mode, the one that didn’t take arguments. “Not tear something open trying to be a hero.”
“I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to do my job.”
“Your job right now is to heal.” Her voice rose. “You push too hard, you tear those internal stitches—then what? You’re bleeding out in the middle of the canyon with no way to get help? How does that help anyone?”
She was right. He hated that she was right.
Nimue moved closer, her voice dropping. The freckles across her nose stood out against her olive-toned skin. “Internal bleeding in the backcountry isn’t fun. I know.”
The memory flickered—Nimue, half-conscious when they found her and Liam in the darkness.
“That was different—”
“It wasn’t.” Her eyes held his. “And you know it. You’re not ready. None of us want to admit it, but it’s true.”
“So we do nothing?” He gestured at the map. “Just stand here and hope?”
“We pray and wait for more information.” Meg’s voice softened. “We monitor the weather, prepare contingency plans, and when—if—we need to send a team, we send people who can actually make the hike.”
“I’m capable—”
“You’re not.”
The words landed hard.
Her face went pale the instant they left her mouth. But she didn’t take them back.
Frustration and fear and three weeks of helplessness boiled over. Before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. “Maybe if you’d been more supportive of me staying active instead of treating me like I’m made of glass, I’d be recovered by now.”
Silence.
Meg recoiled. Her face went white, then red. Those beautiful blue eyes—hurt mixed with anger.
No.
Regret hit instantly, cold in his chest.
“Noah—” Nimue started.
“I didn’t mean—” He reached for Meg. “Meg, I’m sorry. That wasn’t—”
The emergency line rang.
All three of them froze.
That line—the direct line that only ranger stations and SAR teams used—almost never rang. When it did, it meant something serious.
Noah’s heart dropped.
He moved to the desk and pressed the speaker button. “North Rim Ranger Station, this is Noah.”
“Noah, it’s dispatch at South Rim.” The voice was professional but tight. “We have Xander Sullivan here. He hiked out. Says there’s been an incident with one of your teams.”
His fingers whitened against the desk.
Xander hiked out. Alone.
“What kind of incident?”
Beside him, Meg had gone still. Nimue’s hand pressed to her mouth.
“Injuries. Two climbers down.” Papers rustled. “He requested helicopter evac. With the bird still down, we called in a favor, but our medic is down with the flu.”
Noah locked eyes with Meg.
She nodded without hesitation.
That’s my girl.
“Meg can be ready to fly in five.” He kept his voice steady. “Who’s injured?”
“He said—” More rustling. “Trey Conner with a broken leg, and—”
Noah looked at Nimue. Her face had gone gray. She knew. Before the dispatcher said it, she knew.
“—and Liam Kingsley with a head injury. He’s unconscious.”
Liam.
Unconscious.
The room tilted. Noah gripped the desk. Beside him, Nimue made a small, broken sound and braced herself against the wall.
Liam—stubborn, loyal Liam who’d rappelled into the canyon without a second thought. Liam who’d taken off with Nimue to protect her from the Russian mob.
Liam who was supposed to be invincible.
Head injury.
Every worst-case scenario from training flashed through Noah’s mind.
“Send the chopper for Meg.” His voice sounded steadier than he expected.
“Copy that. ETA fifteen minutes.”
The line went dead.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Noah grabbed his keys and turned to Nimue. Her eyes were red, tears threatening but not falling. Her jaw clenched tight.
He recognized that look. He’d worn it himself.
“I assume you want to be at the hospital.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
Noah looked at Meg. Whatever had passed between them—the hurt, the sharp words—faded to background noise. There would be time to apologize later. Time to drop to one knee and ask her to be his forever.
But right now, Liam needed them.
“Then let’s go.”