Chapter 34 Dom
DOM
Noah checked the straps on his daypack while I double-checked the rope and carabiners. He gave a low whistle. “Man, this feels like my Boy Scout days.”
“You mean the ones where you snuck off during orienteering to make out behind the shed?”
“Hey,” he said, pointing a mock-warning finger my way, “those were formative experiences. But seriously, I hike pretty often, just not abseiling down ridgelines à la Bear Grylls.”
“You’ll be fine.” I tossed him a harness. “I packed extras. Figured you’d tag along.”
“Thoughtful and rugged,” he said with a wink. “Where’s this version of you been hiding?”
“I never hid it. You just didn’t look past the L.A. gloss.”
We packed in silence for a bit, checking our gear and redistributing weight. The air was already warming, the sun cracking over the tops of the pines.
Noah set his rifle in the back seat, the grip facing out. That made it real. This wasn’t just a hike. This was one of those times when the “what if” didn’t feel hypothetical anymore.
“You didn’t use to bring a weapon back in Salt Lake,” I said. “It looks strange alongside your thermos.”
“Well, buddy, you shouldn’t get used to it.”
“When did you start shooting?” I asked as we both jumped into my truck.
“Twelve,” he said. “Ranch kid has gotta learn. You bring anything? Or are you still betting on the pen being mightier than the knife?”
I opened my jacket just enough to show the Glock resting snugly.
He smirked. “That looks even weirder than me.”
We drove out toward Raven Bluff, the trailhead creeping up behind a line of wild sage and forest road. As I turned a corner, something slid across the floor.
Noah leaned down. “What was that?”
A coin had rolled to his side of the cab. He picked it up.
“A token,” I said.
“You’re not one for luck.” He inspected it. “And I never saw this when you were defending Maya.”
“Exactly why I kept it out of sight,” I reasoned. “Didn’t want to get grilled then either. It’s not about luck anyway.”
I patted my side pocket. It was loose, the threads gone.
He handed it back. I rubbed my thumb over the worn edge, then set it on the dash. I wasn’t carrying it today.
We jumped out and grabbed our gear, and Noah slung the rifle over his shoulder. It still looked strange on him.
I locked the truck and gave the handle a second check, then we headed straight for the trail.
Reception cut in and out as we got closer, so I made the call before it disappeared entirely.
“Hey,” I said as soon as Autumn answered. “I’m here. Just wanted to check in. Everything okay back there?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Good.”
“Be careful, okay?” she said. “I wish I had something less basic to say. But…yeah.”
“I will.” My throat tightened. “I love you.”
Then came a beat of silence on the line.
“Dom, you’re talking like something’s going to happen.”
“Not like that,” I said quickly. “I just…I wanted to say it. I mean it. I love you.”
The words felt heavier out loud than they had in my head.
I should’ve said it earlier. Back at The Lazy Moose, when she was standing on the porch with her hair pulled back and her arms wrapped around herself like she didn’t trust the day to go right without me.
I could’ve said it while I had her close. But I hadn’t.
Still, I promised myself this wasn’t a missed chance.
Nothing was going to happen.
I’d come back to her. I’d walk straight up those porch steps, take her face in my hands, and say it again. Say it better. Say it with a hundred kisses until she rolled her eyes and muttered something about me being hopeless.
“I love you too,” she said, as if waiting for my thoughts to finish.
The line cut out a second later, but I didn’t need to hear more.
“This is where I found her,” I told Noah once we reached the ridge.
The Buffaloberry River sign was still pointing in the right direction, just as I’d left it.
“The dog led me in. She fell there.” I pointed to the slope where she’d clung on, the memory still too vivid.
“Her pack went over that edge. It caught on a tree just below.”
Noah nodded. “Let’s just hope a dozen more trees haven’t buried it.”
He had a point. “Only one way to find out.”
“Let’s go then,” Noah said. He was all business now, his eyes already scanning for anchors.
“Let’s fix the rope.” I adjusted my harness.
He nodded. “That boulder looks solid.”
“Good plan, my friend.”
We worked quickly but carefully. The old boulder had a natural groove, perfect for a cam and a backup sling. I double-checked every knot, and Noah watched me without comment. He trusted me, and he knew I was meticulous.
“Done,” I said.
He gave a short nod and clipped into the rope first, descending smoothly to the ledge before signaling up.
Then it was my turn.
I passed the spot where I’d found her. The base of that tree was still there, its roots clutching the hillside. I could picture her again, scraped up, bleeding, and fighting to stay conscious. Hanging on with everything she had.
We kept moving.
I leaned back over the edge, my feet set hard against the rockface, the rope biting into my gloves. The slope wasn’t vertical, but it was brutal, with jagged ridges, loose earth, and boulders pretending to be footholds. Noah descended above me, his silence broken only by the occasional grunt.
“Watch that ledge,” I called up.
“I see it.”
“You didn’t see the last one,” I pointed out.
“Still alive, aren’t I?”
I muttered something unrepeatable and kept going. My boots slipped on a gravel patch, and my shoulder slammed into the rock wall.
“Shit!” Pain flared through me.
A hand shot out. Noah, braced a few feet above, yanked my line with enough force to stop the slide.
“Got you,” he said, his voice taut.
I found my footing again, my heart racing. Thank God Autumn hadn’t landed here. She must’ve kicked her pack off just in time. If it had dragged her further, I’d have found a body.
We reached the bottom at the same time, our breath fogging from the effort. We unhooked and scanned the area.
The debris field ahead was scattered but dense, with fallen trunks splintered at odd angles, branches tangled, and bark stripped in places by wind or water. It was not a solid wall, but it was enough to slow you down, to hide something if you weren’t looking right.
“It’s here somewhere,” I said. “If the tree that caught her pack is still down here, we’ll find it. We have to.”
Noah gave a tight nod and veered left while I moved right, my eyes sweeping the debris field.
We kept calling out. “You see anything?” I shouted over a thicket.
“Nope,” came Noah’s voice. “But this place is a damn maze. You think the pack could’ve slid deeper?”
“Maybe. Keep going.”
Minutes passed. I checked under splintered trunks, around brush piles, and beneath limbs that could’ve caught a strap. But nothing.
Then, snap.
It was not from me and not from Noah either. It came from too high, too far. My head lifted, my spine going stiff. The ridge overhead was choked with shadow.
I reached for my Glock, my eyes sweeping the tree line above. Noah caught the shift instantly. Without a word, he angled his rifle toward my line of sight. His feet padded carefully, tracing the ridge in a wide arc as he scanned through his rifle’s scope.
We met again beneath the crook of a leaning tree, our backs against the bark.
“Who’s there?” he whispered.
The trees didn’t move. No sound came back. No movement, no bird flight.
“Don’t know, man,” I murmured. “The sound came from the west, I think.”
“Toward the trailhead?”
“Maybe it was someone trying to catch up. Or an animal.”
Noah didn’t argue, but he kept the rifle raised.
“Let’s keep moving,” I said.
Light was draining out of the sky, fast.