Chapter 11 Rhiannon
RHIANNON
We’re processing data before we leave, and Carter suggests we do the pH analysis first.
His lips are so soft. His tongue is so commanding and sexy. Who knew a mouth muscle could be sexy? His hands felt so good on my waist–
I clear my throat and force my brain to stop replaying the kiss. It was just a silly thing for fun. To prove I’m not a bad kisser. Carter certainly isn’t.
“Rhi? pH first?” I jump a little.
“Actually,” I hear myself say, “can we do temperature readings first? The other way makes more sense to me.”
He looks up, surprised. “Yeah, of course. Your call.”
And it’s such a small thing—choosing the order of tasks—but it feels significant. Matthew would have gotten defensive. Would have explained why his way was better. Carter just... accepts it.
“Thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“For asking what I think.”
“Rhi.” He sets down his pen. “I always want to know what you think.”
The morning air is so cold it burns my lungs, but I don’t care.
I feel alive.
Carter and I left the cabin an hour ago, both of us bundled in layers, our breath creating clouds in the crystalline air.
The hike to Site 4 is longer than the others—almost two hours through increasingly remote terrain—but the landscape is breathtaking.
Snow-covered pines stretch endlessly, and the mountains rise up around us like sentries.
“You good?” Carter calls back. He’s breaking trail ahead of me, his boots crunching through the snow.
“Great,” I say, and I mean it.
He glances over his shoulder, and there’s something in his smile that makes my stomach flip. We kissed earlier. Now I know what it feels like to kiss Carter Wolfe. I have not kissed many men in my lifetime, but I cannot fathom that there is a better feeling out there than kissing him.
“What?” he asks, catching my expression.
“Nothing. Just... this is nice.”
“The hike?”
“All of it.” I gesture vaguely at the forest, the mountains, him. “Being here. Being away from everything. Just... being.”
His smile softens. “Yeah. It is.”
He keeps moving ahead of me, looking back every few minutes.
I make the mistake of watching him.
Carter Wolfe in motion is unfairly attractive. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and exertion. His hair is messy. He grins when he catches my eyes like this is the most fun he’s had in months, and the smile transforms his entire face—makes him look younger, lighter, less haunted.
His body moves with this easy athleticism.
He is criminally hot.
We keep walking, and I let myself just exist in this moment. No phone buzzing with texts from my mom. No Matthew trying to tell me what I should want. No pressure to be anyone other than exactly who I am.
Just me and Carter and the quiet wilderness.
For the first time in years, I feel free.
The trail narrows as we climb, winding through a section of exposed rock face. Carter points out the geological formations—ancient volcanic activity, mineral deposits, the kind of thing that would normally have me pulling out my field notebook.
But right now, I’m just happy to listen to his voice, to watch the way he gestures when he’s excited about something.
“You’re not even taking notes,” he teases.
“I’m storing it all up here.” I tap my temple. “Eidetic memory.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, fine. I’m just enjoying the view.”
“The rocks?”
“Sure. The rocks.”
He catches my meaning and grins, his cheeks flushing—though that might just be from the cold.
We crest a ridge, and suddenly, the landscape opens up before us. A narrow canyon, steam rising from somewhere below where the hot spring must be located. The rock walls are streaked with incredible colors—oranges, deep purples, and rust reds, all layered like a painting.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“Yeah.” Carter’s already pulling out his camera. “This is incredible.”
I move forward, carefully navigating the snowy slope. There’s a trail marker ahead—orange paint on a tree—and beyond it, warning signs posted on a wooden stake.
Caution: Unstable Ground
Thermal Features - Stay On Marked Trail
“Looks like we need to be careful,” I say, pointing at the signs.
“Always.” Carter’s setting up our equipment, already focused on the work. “The spring should be about a quarter mile down this trail. We’ll need to—Rhi, are you listening?”
But I’m not.
Because I’ve just spotted something moving in my peripheral vision.
A pika.
It’s tiny—maybe the size of my fist—with round ears and gray-brown fur. It’s perched on a rock about twenty feet off the trail, and it lets out this high-pitched squeak that’s somehow both adorable and ridiculous.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Carter, look.”
He follows my gaze. “Is that a pika?”
“Yes! I’ve never seen one in person!” I’m already moving toward it, my boots crunching in the snow. “They’re so rare to spot—”
“Rhi, the sign said to stay on the trail—”
“I’m just going to get a little closer.” I pull out my phone. “Just for a second.”
The pika squeaks again and hops further away, toward a cluster of interesting rock formations. The ground looks stable—just snow over solid rock.
“Rhi—”
“I’ll be right back!”
I step off the trail.
For the first time in my life, I’m not following the rules. I’m not being careful, not being the good girl who does exactly what she’s told. I’m just being spontaneous, chasing something that makes me happy.
I feel reckless.
I feel free.
The pika disappears behind a boulder, and I follow, laughing at my own silliness. The snow is deeper here, coming up almost to my knees, but the rock formations are incredible. Steam rises from somewhere nearby—we must be close to the thermal features.
“Rhi, seriously, come back!”
“Just one more second!”
I take another step forward, my phone raised to capture the spot where the pika vanished.
And then the world drops out from under me.
It happens so fast, I don’t even have time to scream.
The snow gives way. Not gradually, not with warning, just gone. My foot finds nothing but air, and then I’m falling, my arms windmilling uselessly, my phone flying from my hand.
I hit something—rock, hard and unforgiving—and the air explodes from my lungs. Then I’m tumbling, sliding, pain blooming everywhere as I scrape against stone walls that I can’t see in the darkness.
I land hard.
The impact sends shock waves through my body. My ankle twists beneath me with a sickening pop, and the pain is immediate and blinding. I try to stand, to catch my breath, but my leg won’t hold me and I collapse back down.
That’s when I understand where I am.
I’m in some kind of hole. A cave. The walls are rough stone, maybe eight feet across, and when I look up, I can see a jagged opening above me where I fell through. Daylight filters down, along with loose snow that’s still settling around me.
“Carter?” My voice comes out as a wheeze. I can’t breathe right—did I break a rib? “Carter!”
Nothing. Can he even hear me?
I try to stand again, putting weight on my ankle, and the pain makes me see stars. Definitely twisted, maybe broken. The walls are too high, too smooth. I can’t climb out.
I’m trapped.
The darkness presses in around me, and suddenly, I can’t breathe for a completely different reason. The space is so small, the walls so close, and I can’t get out, I can’t—
This is just like Matthew’s apartment. When he’d stand in the doorway, blocking my exit, not letting me leave until we “worked it out.” When he’d corner me in the bedroom, his voice getting louder, and I’d feel the walls closing in and know there was no escape—
“Carter!” I scream, and this time, it’s pure panic. “CARTER, HELP!”
My voice echoes in the small space, bouncing back at me, and the air feels too thin. I’m not sure I can get enough in to my lungs.
I’m trapped, I’m trapped, I’m trapped—
“RHI!” His voice, distant, comes from above. “Rhi, where are you?!”
“I fell!” I’m sobbing now. “I fell through the snow! I can’t get out! Carter, I can’t—”
“Okay! Okay, I’m coming! Stay calm!”
But I can’t stay calm. The walls are too close and the darkness is too thick and my ankle is screaming and I’m trapped and I can’t breathe—
“Carter, please!” My voice breaks. “Please, I need to get out. I can’t be down here. I can’t—”
“I’m right here!” He’s at the opening now, I can see his face appear above me, backlit by daylight. “Rhi, I can see you! You’re okay!”
“I’m not okay!” I’m hyperventilating now. I know I am, but I can’t stop it. “My ankle—something’s wrong with my ankle—and I can’t get out and the walls—”
“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice is steady, controlled, even though I can see the fear in his eyes. “Look at me, Rhi. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out.”
“How?” I’m shaking uncontrollably. “It’s too deep, I can’t climb, I—”
“I’m going to figure it out. But I need you to breathe for me, okay? Can you do that?”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. With me. In through your nose.” I hear him take a deliberate breath. “Out through your mouth.”
I try. It comes out as a sob.
“That’s okay. Try again. I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.”
“Don’t leave me.” The words are desperate, childlike. “Please don’t leave me alone down here.”
“I won’t. I promise.” His face disappears from the opening, and I immediately panic again—
“Carter!”