Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
LOOKOUT
GRIFFIN
I woke to the smell of her hair. And for a moment, before memory crashed in, I let myself breathe her in.
Sometime during the night, we'd gravitated toward each other.
Ava was pressed against my chest, her back to me, my arm wrapped around her waist like I had any right to hold her.
The covers had shifted, I was half under them now, our legs tangled together, her body fitting against mine like she'd been designed for exactly this.
I should've moved. Should've put distance between us before she woke up and realized I'd spent the night wrapped around her like some desperate bastard who couldn't control himself.
But I didn't move.
Because for the first time in months, I hadn’t woken up drowning in memory.. No nightmares. No waking up at three a.m. replaying the moment the rope went light. Just solid, dreamless sleep with this woman in my arms.
Dangerous. This was so goddamn dangerous.
Ava stirred, a soft sound escaping her throat. Then she went still, the kind of stillness that meant she'd just realized our position.
"Griffin?" Her voice was sleep-rough and uncertain.
"Yeah."
"Your arm is around me."
"I know."
"We're, we're really close."
"I know." I loosened my grip, giving her space to move if she wanted. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
She rolled over to face me, and suddenly we were nose to nose, her green eyes wide and searching in the early morning light. Snow still battered the windows. The world outside was a white void.
But in here, everything was warm.
"You slept," she said quietly.
"What?"
"You slept through the night. No tossing. No nightmares. I could tell." Her hand came up, hesitant, then settled against my chest. Right over my heart. "Me too."
The touch burned through my thermal shirt. I couldn't breathe properly.
"Ava..."
"I know this is complicated. I know we shouldn't..." She bit her lip, and I had to force myself not to stare. "But I haven't felt safe in months. And last night, with you, I did."
“I’m not fragile,” she added, softer. “I just… don’t want to be alone in this anymore.”
Everything in me wanted to close the distance. To kiss her. To show her exactly how much I wanted to make her feel safe every single night for the rest of her life.
Instead, I pulled back, untangling myself from her and sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face.
"We should check the conditions," I said, voice rougher than I intended. "See if the road's passable."
Disappointment flickered across her face before she controlled it. "Right. Of course."
I climbed down the ladder, needing space, needing air that didn't smell like her. Outside the window, the storm was still raging. If anything, it had intensified overnight.
My radio crackled to life.
"Griffin, you copy?" Rafe's voice, tense and clipped.
I grabbed the radio from my jacket. "Copy. What's the situation?"
"We've got a problem. Hiker went missing yesterday afternoon near Widow's Peak. Family just reported it. Weather window opens in about four hours, we need to be ready to move the second it does."
Widow's Peak. Exposed, technical terrain, prone to avalanches. If someone had been out there overnight in this storm,
"I'm at the team cabin with Ava," I said. "We're snowed in but mobile. What's the plan?"
"I'm sending coordinates to your phone. There's an old lookout tower about two miles from your position, Blaze's old station before the fire. Better shelter than where you are, and you'll have radio access to coordinate once we can move. Get there, hunker down, and wait for my call."
I glanced at Ava, who'd climbed down the ladder and was listening intently. She didn't look scared. She looked focused. Ready.
"Copy that. We'll head out within the hour."
"Griffin? Conditions are deteriorating. If you can't make it safely..."
"We'll make it."
I clicked off the radio and met Ava's eyes.
"Widow's Peak?" she asked.
"You know it?"
"Studied the terrain maps last week when I was prepping for the interview. It's technical. High-angle exposure, multiple avalanche paths." She moved to her gear bag, already assessing. "If someone's been out there overnight..."
"They're in serious trouble." I grabbed my own pack, running through the mental checklist. "We need to get to the lookout. It's a two-mile trek through whiteout conditions, but the alternative is staying here and being useless when Rafe calls."
"Then we go." No hesitation. Just competence.
God, I liked her.
Liked wasn’t the right word. Wanted was closer. Needed was dangerously accurate.
We packed quickly, minimal gear, maximum efficiency. Ava moved through the checklist like she'd done it a thousand times. Layers, water, emergency bivy, beacon, probe, first aid. She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow.
"Something on your mind?"
"You're good at this."
"I've had practice." She zipped her pack closed. "How bad's the terrain between here and the lookout?"
"Steep. Exposed in places. We'll be on snowshoes most of the way." I handed her a set from the cabin's supply closet. "Stay close. Visibility's going to be near zero."
"I can handle it."
I knew she could. That was the problem.
The storm hit us the moment we stepped outside.
Wind screamed across the ridge, driving snow horizontal. Visibility was maybe ten feet on a good moment, less than five most of the time. I clicked on my headlamp even though it was mid-morning, the world was a gray-white blur.
Ava fell into position behind me, one hand on my pack, moving in sync. We'd roped together at the waist, a short tether in case someone went down. Standard protocol in whiteout conditions.
The trek was brutal.
Every step required focus. The snow was waist-deep in places, the wind strong enough to knock you sideways if you weren't braced. I navigated by compass and memory, checking our heading every few minutes, making corrections when the wind tried to push us off course.
Ava never complained. Never asked to slow down. Just kept moving, her breathing steady behind me.
An hour in, we hit the exposed section, a narrow saddle with steep drops on either side. I stopped, checking the route ahead.
"This is the worst of it," I shouted over the wind. "Stay tight on the rope. If you slip, I've got you."
She nodded, her face half-hidden by her balaclava. But I saw her eyes, focused, determined, unafraid.
We crossed the saddle, the wind trying to rip us off the ridge. Halfway across, Ava's snowshoe caught on hidden ice. She went down hard, sliding toward the edge.
The rope snapped tight.
I dropped my weight, dug in, and held.
And something deep in me, something that had been stuck in that moment for three years, unclenched.
For one heart-stopping moment, I was back on that ridge in Washington. Feeling the pull. The weight. The terror of not being strong enough to hold them.
But this time was different.
This time, I held.
I pulled hand over hand, bringing her back up the slope until she could get her footing. She scrambled upright, breathing hard.
"You okay?" I grabbed her shoulders, checking for injury.
"Fine. Just, thank you." Her eyes met mine through the snow. "You held me."
"Always." The word came out fierce. Certain.
Her hand came up, cupping my cheek through my balaclava. Even through the layers, I felt the warmth of her touch.
"We need to keep moving," she said softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
The lookout tower emerged from the storm like a ghost, two stories of weathered wood and glass, perched on a rocky outcrop.
I'd been here once before, helping Rafe inventory old fire equipment.
The place was supposed to be abandoned, but someone had been maintaining it.
The door opened easily, and inside, it was dry.
And there was only one bed.
Of course there was.
Heat hit me low and hard, fast as an avalanche knock.
I made myself look away before she turned around.
Ava stepped inside, brushing snow from her jacket. "This is Blaze's old station?"
"Yeah. Before the fire that injured him, he spent summers up here." I moved to the old wood stove, checking the flue. "Place has been empty for three years, but the structure's solid."
We worked together to secure the space, starting the fire, melting snow for water, setting up the radio equipment. The rhythm was easy, familiar. Like we'd been doing this together for years instead of hours.
Once the fire was going and the radio was online, we stripped off our wet outer layers. The lookout warmed quickly, heat rising to the loft where the single bed waited.
I tried not to think about it.
Ava moved to the window, staring out at the white void. "Tell me about the rescue. What are we walking into?"
I pulled up the coordinates on my phone, displaying the terrain map.
"Solo hiker. Male, mid-thirties. Last known position was here.
.." I pointed to a marker near Widow's Peak's summit ridge.
"He was attempting the winter ascent. Not technical climbing, but exposed and dangerous in these conditions. "
"Avalanche risk?"
"High. The storm loaded the slopes with at least three feet of new snow. Any rescue attempt is going to be a narrow margin."
She studied the map, her expression thoughtful. "What's your experience with avalanche terrain?"
"Enough to respect it. Not enough to lead a high-risk extraction." I met her eyes. "That's where you come in."
"You're putting me in charge?"
"If we get the call, yeah. You're the technical specialist. I'll support however you need."
Something shifted in her expression. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition that I trusted her competence.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Then let's prep scenarios. I want to know exactly what we're working with if Rafe gives us the green light."