Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Standing toe to toe with Waylon, Frankie fought the impulse to throw her arms around him. Waylon was here. With her. He wasn’t walking out. A fact that settled into her chest, warm and unnerving all at once.
When she’d called Stephanie on Sunday, it was to thank her for signing her up for the club, but that she wouldn’t be continuing. Stephanie would just have to find someone new for Waylon.
Stephanie had shocked Frankie when she said that she’d already found her a new partner. At Waylon’s request.
Shocked and hurt.
He must have called Stephanie when I was in the bathroom at his apartment .
At least he’d stuck around long enough to make sure the alarm worked and she was safe.
“New guy’s a hottie,” Stephanie told her. “He’s looking forward to meeting new people. I figured you knew how that felt, so I told him I had the perfect partner in mind. I’d hate to let him down, Frank.”
Grrr!
“Fine. I’ll see you both on Saturday. ”
The week sucked. Dread took up residence in her stomach. She debated going back on her word, calling Steph and telling her sorry, but the damage was done.
But then on Wednesday, Derek texted her a long apology for bothering her when she obviously had someone in her life already. So, could he take her out—only as friends—the following Saturday morning to make up for it?
Frankie almost threw her phone across the room. Instead, she texted back that all was forgiven, no worries, but that she was busy Saturday mornings for the foreseeable future. He never texted back with a different suggestion, thank goodness.
She’d dragged herself into the rec center Saturday morning, and was in the middle of debating whether or not to give the ‘hottie’ a chance, when the door opened behind her. In that instant, she knew—it was Waylon or no one.
And there he was.
He was standing this close to her. All it would take was lifting her arms, finding the nape of his neck, then standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips.
I’ll be the one catching you on the other side every time.
God, she wanted to believe that.
But, she knew better.
Just like she knew that earbud she found in his coat pocket couldn’t be hers.
It wasn’t possible. It was just the same brand, the same color. A coincidence.
But what if it isn’t?
No. Even if it was , what would that change? It wasn’t like Waylon had said anything. And she wasn’t about to bring it up and sound like some hopeless romantic who thought fate had been scheming behind the scenes. He’d laugh. Or worse—look at her like she’d lost her mind.
Too good to be true. That’s all it was .
She shook off the ridiculous thought and turned away, rummaging through her pack for something, anything.
“Frankie?”
She looked up and beamed a smile at him. “Glad to have you back, Buddy .” She went back to searching for God-knew-what.
“Good to be back, Buddy .”
Stephanie parked the bus along the road at the start of the Eldorado Mountain Trail. “All right, Buddies. Today we’ll be going along some challenging trails, but the view at the top of the Rattlesnake Trail is totally worth it. Since they got some snow up there a couple nights ago, I’ll be handing out poles. Trail’s bound to be a little icy in the sun, and I don’t want anyone slipping down the side of the mountain. On the way back, we’ll reward ourselves with a stop at a brew pub. Any questions?”
“Yeah, how about hitting the brew pub first and staying there?” Mateo said, and everyone laughed. Out of all the other Buddies, Frankie thought he was the funniest, having gotten to know him better at dinner the week before. He was a California transplant and not a fan of the cold.
“Fun fact—beers and burgers taste better after hiking through snow,” Stephanie said. “And I promise—the views we’re about to see are worth it.”
The air was crisp and cool, a bite of winter air mingling with the sharp scent of pine as they ascended the trail. Frankie was thankful for the poles once they hit the snow. The trail had narrowed along a rocky ridge, demanding all her focus. Stephanie, at the head of the group, kept her pace steady and deliberate.
“Everyone doing okay?” she called back.
“Living the dream,” Mateo deadpanned from the middle of the line, mimicking her tone with a smirk.
Frankie, laughed along with the others. Stephanie’s enthusiasm was infectious, even when the hike grew grueling. The woman didn’t just walk trails; she owned them.
Frankie had to admit, the views of the sharply peaked rocks were already breathtaking between the trees and they weren’t even at the top yet. She kept glancing down at the snowy footing, her steps careful but slower now. Frankie caught Waylon’s eye, and they shared a brief, wordless exchange.
I’ll be the one catching you on the other side every time.
The trail widened into a flat, grassy space, reddish rocks on one side, a steep drop-off into the pine forest on the other.
Stephanie stopped. “Five-minute break,” she called out, sounding winded. “Enjoy the view, hydrate, pretend you’re not regretting your life choices.”
Frankie bit back a grin as she reached for her water bottle. Waylon gave Stephanie a pointed look, but she waved him off. “I’m fine, don’t even think about babying me, Ram. Save it for someone who needs it.”
The group spread out, some taking photos of the mountains, others rummaging for water or snacks.
“The trail gets steeper from here,” Stephanie said, gesturing with her trekking pole. “Should be?—”
She stopped talking and tilted her head, listening.
“Steve?”
Stephanie put her finger to her lips. Then Frankie heard it—a faint whimpering sound carried on the breeze.
“Do you hear that?” Stephanie asked.
“Sounds like an animal,” Frankie said, stepping up beside her. “Coyote?”
“Dog,” Stephanie said. She scanned the steep incline below. “There, under that pine. Do you see it?” She pointed.
Frankie squinted, following her finger. Sure enough, a small, scruffy dog huddled against the trunk of a tree about fifty feet down.
“Oh no,” Frankie whispered. “It looks terrified.”
“Poor thing,” Stephanie said, inching closer to the edge for a better look. “We can’t leave it.”
It happened in an instant.
Her words cut off abruptly as her boot slipped on loose, icy gravel near the edge. The pole skidded uselessly across the rocky surface. Then, with a startled yelp, Stephanie slid over the edge.
“Steph!” Frankie cried as she tried to grab her but missed.
Waylon was suddenly at her side, peering over. Stephanie had slid down the incline, slippery with pine needles. She came to a stop just above the dog, where a scraggly pine jutted out from the steep slope. She grabbed the trunk to pull herself up, then groaned, her face pale and strained. One arm hung at an awkward angle.
“Steve!” Frankie’s heart pounded as she looked down at her friend, then at the trembling dog just a few feet below Stephanie.
“I’m fine,” Stephanie called up, her voice strained but defiant. “I just bumped my arm on the way down. Just help me with the dog. There’s rope in my pack and a first aid kit. Actually, dump everything out of my pack. We can use it to bring the dog up.”
Frankie rushed to Stephanie’s pack and tipped it upside down. She picked up the rope and ran it and the empty backpack to Waylon, who crouched near the edge, eyes scanning the slope below.
“Trish, call 911,” Waylon said, his voice calm but commanding. “Anna, get the first aid kit and be ready to stabilize her arm when she’s up.”
“Lower me down. I can get her,” Frankie told Waylon.
“No, I’ll go down,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Frankie grabbed his arm. “Let me. I’m smaller, lighter?—”
“And not trained for this,” he interrupted. “Pixie, I know you’re brave, but I’ve done this before. I’ll get them both. When I signal, I’ll need you to tell the others to hold the rope steady while I get Steph ready for the ascent. Got it?”
She nodded, already uncoiling the rope as Waylon studied the terrain. He wrapped the rope around a tree, tying it into a secure anchor point. “This’ll hold a tank,” he muttered, double-checking the knots. Then he looped the rope into a makeshift harness for himself. His movements were fast, efficient. “Trish?”
“Ambulance is on its way, but we’ll have to start back down the mountain toward the trailhead. They’ll start up the trail until we meet.”
Waylon nodded. He took off his flannel and draped it over his neck and shoulders.
“Pixie,” he said, his voice softer as he glanced at her. “Keep your focus on the rope and the terrain. If anything feels wrong, yell. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said, gripping the rope tightly.
“Mateo, Sebastian, Chris, you guys get ready to pull us back up. Anna, you good with the first aid kit?”
“Yup, got it,” she answered.
Waylon gave Frankie a smile. “All right, Buddy. You’ve got this.” He slid over the edge.
Frankie watched as Waylon descended the steep incline with practiced ease. The knots held firm. Frankie’s nails dug into her palms as she watched his steady progress. When he reached Stephanie, he crouched low, assessing her arm with quick, practiced hands.
“I’m gonna stabilize Stephanie’s arm before we move,” he called up to Frankie.
Frankie glanced back at Anna, who had the first aid kit ready. “He’s stabilizing her arm.” Then she watched Waylon wrap his flannel around Stephanie’s arm, tying it snugly against her chest. His movements were calm, precise, like he’d done this a hundred times.
He slipped out of the harness then secured the rope around Stephanie’s torso, reinforcing the harness with loops under her arms and around her waist.
“You’re stable. Now for the pup.”
Stephanie tilted her head toward the trembling bundle of fur below her. “Poor thing’s been crying for hours, I bet.”
Frankie watched as Waylon eased himself down another few feet, his boots sending loose dirt cascading below him. The puppy let out a frightened yelp and tried to back farther into the tree’s roots.
Waylon crouched, extending his hand palm-up. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”
The dog whimpered but didn’t move as Waylon carefully slid down until he was level with the dog. He slid his hand under the dog’s belly.
“Gotcha,” he said, lifting the trembling pup into his arms. He tucked the small dog into the empty backpack and slipped his arms through the straps. He climbed back up to Stephanie and examined the rope around her torso one more time.
“All right, Steph, you’re going up first. I’ll be right behind you.”
Then he signaled to Frankie.
He’s going up without a rope around him. God, please, please don’t let him slip.
Frankie nodded to Waylon, then turned her head. “All right, guys, start pulling, slow and steady. Don’t rush.”
As the men worked together to bring Stephanie up, Waylon climbed behind her, one hand on the rope and the other around Stephanie, making sure she wasn’t getting banged up on any rock hidden under the pine needles. Frankie’s heart was in her throat as she watched them come closer and closer.
When Stephanie neared the top, Frankie pulled her onto the trail. Stephanie’s face was pale with pain and fear.
Waylon clambered up seconds later, as he pulled himself over the edge. Frankie reached out instinctively, grabbing his arm to steady him.
Safe!
Frankie held the backpack steady as Waylon shrugged it off. She looked inside it at the frightened dog who gazed back up at her with the saddest brown eyes.
“Well,” Stephanie said, sitting on the ground, her injured arm cradled in Waylon’s shirt. “That was a hell of a lot more excitement than I planned for today. ”
Anna and Waylon knelt beside Stephanie, checking her over and offering her water.
“I can’t believe I’m so clumsy,” Stephanie muttered, wincing as Anna examined her arm. “It’s just a sprain. Probably. Right?”
Anna arched a brow and exchanged a look with Waylon. “Steph, it’s not just a sprain.”
Stephanie ignored Anna. “How’s the pup?” she asked Frankie.
“Fine. But we need to get you off the mountain. There’s an ambulance on the way.” She looked at Waylon. “We’ve got a tarp. Would that work as a litter to get her down?”
Waylon grinned. “Hell yeah, Pixie.”
“Guys, I broke my arm, not my leg. I can walk just fine.” Stephanie started to stand.
“Uh-uh, no,” Anna said. “You took a big tumble, and you’re at risk for shock. We’re bundling you up and carrying you out.” She grinned. “If I had a roll of bubble wrap, I’d wrap you in it right now.”
Waylon chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”
Trish had gone to grab the tarp and came back with it. Stephanie continue to protest—though not as hard—when everyone took off their flannels and jackets to make a ‘nest’ for Stephanie in the tarp. She finally conceded to being carried back down the trail, swaddled in everyone’s jackets. Waylon and Mateo carried each end, creating a hammock. Anna monitored Stephanie while Frankie cradled the dog, still wrapped in the backpack.
The trail back down went much faster than the way up, and pretty soon, they met up with four paramedics carrying a litter. Waylon and Anna gave reports to the paramedics while they transferred Steph after more grumbling—though Frankie thought it sounded like a token protest. They carried her to the ambulance waiting in El Dorado Springs.
“Take the van keys.” Stephanie handed them to Waylon before they loaded her into the ambulance. She appeared absolutely devastated as she looked at each Buddy one by one. “I’m so sorry. I think this is the end of the club. The rec center probably won’t let me continue after this. So, you all had better hit the brewpub on the way back to the rec center.”
Everyone told her not to worry about it, that she was way more important. The ambulance doors shut with a final clunk , and the sirens wailed as it pulled away, carrying Stephanie toward Foothills Hospital. The rest of the Adventure Buddies stood in a loose cluster near the rec center’s van, watching the taillights disappear down the road.
“She’s going to be fine,” Anna reassured everyone. “She’s not in shock, and doesn’t appear to have a head injury. I’m betting her arm was a clean break.”
Mateo blew out a relieved breath. “Damn, Steph scared the hell out of me. And of course, her biggest concern was whether we’d still hit the brewpub afterward.”
A few chuckles rippled through the group.
“Do we want to follow the ambulance to the hospital?” Waylon asked.
All hands went up.
As they rode to the hospital, Frankie sat in the back with the dog—a puppy, she realized—who seemed to be fine, and was becoming curious now that he was safe and warm. He poked his grayish-white snout out of the bag, followed by his whole head. He was an adorable little black-and-gray mutt, filthy as he was. They took turns petting him on the drive to the hospital, which turned out to be only about fifteen minutes away. Waylon parked in the visitors’ lot and everyone got out.
“Go ahead in without me,” she told Waylon. “I’ll stay here with Sn…I mean, this little guy.”
Waylon grinned. “You were about to name him something. What is it?”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “I think you know.”
He handed her the van keys. “I’ll keep you informed. Text me if you need anything.” His grin turned to a full-on smile. “Then after we drop everyone off at the rec center, we’ll go get Snoopy checked out.”