Chapter 12
Twelve
Teague had crossed a seven-foot gap to save Liam’s life. The distance between him and Eden felt much more impossible to cross.
The sound of rotor blades cut through the black sky, and for one blessed moment, he could focus on something other than the hollow ache in his chest. He was on his feet before the spotlight of the chopper came into view, relief flooding through him so fast his knees nearly buckled.
Xander had made good time. Teague feared they wouldn’t make it here until morning.
The helicopter descended into a flat area fifty yards from camp. Two figures jumped out and ran toward them—one in SAR gear, and the other—
Meg.
Her long brown hair was pulled back tight, and even in dim light, the professional focus in her eyes was unmistakable. She grabbed a medical kit and started toward them.
“Where are the injured?” The SAR team member shouted over the noise.
Teague led them toward the sleeping bags. “Head injury is priority. He’s been in and out for hours.”
Meg dropped beside Liam, hands already moving—checking pupils, palpating the injury site, monitoring his breathing. “Liam, can you hear me? It’s Meg. Open your eyes if you can.”
His eyelids fluttered. Didn’t open.
Meg pulled out a penlight. “Pupils responsive but sluggish. Breathing’s shallow. How long unconscious this time?”
“About twenty minutes.” Eden stepped closer but stumbled. Teague reached for her, but she jerked back from his touch. “I’m fine.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “I was just—”
“Well, don’t.” Then she stepped closer to Meg. “He was awake earlier. Confused. Kept trying to say something but couldn’t finish.”
Meg’s gaze bounced between them. “Any vomiting? Seizures?”
“No.” Teague didn’t even comment on the other question in Meg’s eyes.
“Good.” Meg was already preparing a cervical collar. “Help me get this on. We need to immobilize and transport now.”
They worked quickly—Meg with Liam, the SAR member assessing Trey’s broken leg. Teague walked beside the backboard as they carried Liam to the helicopter.
“You’re going to be okay.” His voice came out rough. “Meg’s here. She’s got you.”
Please be okay. Please.
“Vitals stable for now.” Meg climbed in beside the backboard. “But head injuries can deteriorate fast. We need to move.”
They secured Liam, then returned for Trey. Gray with pain but alert, he barely made a sound as they lifted him.
“Which hospital?” Teague asked the pilot.
“Flagstaff. They’re expecting us. Room for one more.”
“I’m going.” Sierra grabbed her pack.
Teague didn’t argue. One less person in the path of potential trouble.
Meg pressed a radio into his hand before helping Sierra aboard. He turned his back to camp—to Kyle and Marcus—blocking the exchange.
“This one works.” Her voice was low. “You hiking out in the morning?”
“That’s the plan. Should make the North Rim by midafternoon.”
“Stay safe. A storm is possibly rolling in, but not until later in the day.” She leaned closer, expression sharp. “There’s something tied to Marcus’s inheritance with the gold. Be careful. He may not be anxious to leave.”
“Noted.”
“And Teague?” Meg glanced past him toward the camp. “Whatever happened with Eden—fix it.”
“Working on it.”
“Work harder.”
The helicopter lifted off, banking as it gained altitude. The sound faded as it disappeared over the canyon rim.
Then silence.
Teague slipped the radio into his pack. Concealed. Whoever had sabotaged the last ones didn’t need to know they had a working backup.
Four of them left. Teague. Eden. Marcus. Kyle.
One of them—maybe two—couldn’t be trusted.
And apparently Eden had decided Teague belonged on that list too.
He still couldn’t believe she’d ended it. Not with anger or drama but with quiet certainty. Like she’d already watched him die in her mind and decided she couldn’t go through it again.
I can’t be in a relationship where I’m always wondering if this will be the day you push too far and don’t come home.
The words still burned.
Teague moved toward her, but she shifted away, keeping her focus on the gear she was organizing. Her back was a wall. Her silence a message.
Fine. If that’s how she wanted it.
“We have a few hours until morning. You should try to get some rest.” He kept his voice flat. Professional. “Long hike ahead.”
“I don’t think I can sleep. Not after everything.”
“Try anyway. I’ll keep watch.”
“You need sleep too. You’ve been up too and your ribs—”
“Will be fine.”
She finally looked at him. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
“Until it isn’t.” Her voice was tired. Hollow. “That’s the whole point, Teague. Someday it won’t be fine. And I can’t—” She stopped. Shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t watch it happen.” Her eyes met his. “I won’t do it again.”
“I’m not Landon.”
“No. You’re worse.” The words came out flat. Final. “Landon was reckless because he didn’t know better. You’re reckless because you don’t care enough about yourself.”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” She turned back to her gear. “Get some rest, Teague. We can take shifts.”
“I’ll wake you in an hour.”
“No, you won’t.” She didn’t look up. “Because you don’t trust anyone else to keep watch. Just like you don’t trust anyone else to make the call. Just like you’ll always choose the mission over your own safety.”
“Eden—”
“Fine. Have it your way, boss.”
Boss.
Like he was nothing more than a team leader. Like the past couple days hadn’t happened. Like those two kisses hadn’t turned his whole world sideways.
He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “We don’t know who to trust. And until we do, I’m keeping watch. That’s not about the mission. That’s about keeping you safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Never said you couldn’t.”
She moved to her sleeping bag without another word, positioning it against a rock face.
Teague sat on her open side—between her and the camp, between her and whatever threat might come—and added wood to the fire. The heat warmed his fingers that had gone half numb.
And it gave him something to do with his hands besides clenching them into fists.
An hour passed. The fire crackled. Eden’s breathing eventually evened into something like sleep.
Marcus looked up from his notebook.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough. “About the cave. I shouldn’t have—” He stopped. Swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No. You weren’t.” Teague positioned himself to see both Marcus and Kyle. “You going to tell me what you were really looking for?”
Marcus’s hand tightened on his pen. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Even after nearly getting us all killed?”
“Especially after that.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” Marcus closed the notebook. “But I swear I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just need to find something. Something important.”
“Important enough to die for?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
“Important enough to risk everyone else dying?”
Still nothing. Just fire reflected in dark eyes.
Marcus’s jaw worked. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.” Marcus stood abruptly. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.” He moved toward his sleeping area. “But I’m not your enemy, Teague. Whatever you think—I’m not.”
“Then prove it. Get some sleep. Don’t do anything stupid. And later today, when we’re out of this canyon, maybe we can have a real conversation.”
Marcus nodded once. Lay down. Didn’t close his eyes.
Kyle approached next, settling on a rock across from Teague. His gaze drifted past—toward Eden’s sleeping form, the curve of her shoulder in the firelight—before he caught himself.
“We should discuss the hike out. When do you want to leave?”
“We leave at first light.” He’d let Eden get a little more sleep. “Should make the rim by midafternoon.”
“Sounds good.” Kyle stretched, but his eyes drifted toward Eden again. “I’m beat. Think I’ll catch a little sleep before then. You should too.”
“I’m good.”
“You sure? You look like you could use the rest.”
“I’m sure.”
Kyle’s mouth curved slightly. “You know, she and I used to be close. Back before Landon fell.”
Teague’s hand stilled on the stick he’d been feeding to the fire. “Is that right.”
“She’s something special, isn’t she?” Kyle’s eyes were steady on his. Testing. “The kind of woman worth fighting for.”
“She’s also the kind of woman who makes her own choices.”
“True.” Kyle lay down on the far side of the fire. Minutes later, his breathing evened.
Or seemed to.
And then Teague was alone with the dying flames and the weight of everything he’d gotten wrong.
An owl called from somewhere above. The creek murmured in the distance.
He pulled the radio from his pack. Looked identical to the one in Eden’s pack—with the exception of the tampering.
If something went wrong on the hike out, and something in his gut said it would, they’d have a way to call for help.
He’d risked everything to get to Liam in time.
And lost Eden in the process.
You talk about putting your trust in God. In the Rock. But do you? Because to me, it looks like the only one you put faith in is Teague.
Her words from earlier. Still landing like blows.
Because she was right.
His hand found the knife on his belt, checking that it was accessible. Not that he expected to need it. But with sabotaged equipment and mysterious injuries and people who wouldn’t tell the truth—
He wasn’t taking chances.
He’d thought maybe Eden was different. Maybe she could love him despite his failures. Trust him despite his recklessness.
But she’d looked at him and seen exactly what he was.
Someone who would always choose the mission. Someone who’d keep pushing until he pushed too far. Someone who could never seem to get it right.
And she was done with him.
As much as it hurt—a deep, hollow ache that had nothing to do with his ribs—maybe it was for the best.
He let the fire burn down and ignored the pain in his side.
And settled in for the long watch.
Eden pulled another twig from her braid and added it to the small pile beside her sleeping bag.