Chapter 3 #2
Something in his gut told him this madness wouldn’t end with closures or patrols. The gold was out there—real or not—fueling the fever, the greed, the desperation. Hunters would keep coming, keep digging, keep clashing until someone found it—or proved it didn’t exist.
The only way to stop it was to end the mystery, to haul those bars out into the light and let the world see.
He gripped the wheel tighter with his good hand.
The pain in his arm sharpened his thoughts.
He’d promised Meg he wouldn’t go back into the caves.
When she’d begged him not to go with panic bright in her blue eyes, he’d nodded, pulled her close again, and whispered assurances he’d meant in that moment.
He had no desire to drag others into danger, even if Teague and Liam had already volunteered and talked about mapping the caves, going in quietly before another quake hit.
“We can do it, boss,” Teague had said. “End this for good.”
But Noah couldn’t shake the ghosts. It was too much like Ezra all over again—the cave, the darkness, the responsibility.
Lives weren’t worth some dusty bars.
Yet the gut feeling persisted and whispered that ignoring it would only invite more chaos. More fights. More collapses. More deaths like Lydia’s.
How long until the next call came in and pulled Meg back into the fray? Back into danger he couldn’t control?
He couldn’t protect her from afar, couldn’t shield her from every disaster. But chasing the gold would break his promise—and maybe break them both in the process.
He pulled up to the clinic and spotted her through the window with her dark hair pulled back, focused on paperwork at the counter. So beautiful that it made his chest ache.
He steeled himself and stepped out, the ridiculous sweatshirt twisted around his waist.
Good idea or not, he was about to see Meg.
And lucky him. He got to go see her dressed like an old woman.
With sparkles.
She’d become a doctor to heal, not to manage stupidity.
Meg yanked the final cactus spine from Mr. Howell’s leg with her tweezers. It hit the silver tray with a sharp clink. The scent of antiseptic barely masked the red canyon dust that infiltrated everything. Sweat beaded at her hairline despite the ancient swamp cooler rattling in the window.
“That’s the last of them, Mr. Howell. The nurse will bandage you up. But do us both a favor—no more sitting on cacti.”
Mr. Howell’s head remained buried in the exam table. “The guy pushed me.”
Meg straightened, wiping her hands on a sterile cloth. “I know. And I’m sure he said you cheated at poker. But let’s remember, this isn’t the Wild West anymore.”
“It’ll be worth it if I find that gold.”
We need to find that gold to stop this. Until then it’ll only get worse. Noah’s words from last week echoed in her mind. The memory of the boxlike corner in the cave tugged at her.
Telling Noah would send him back into danger. Promise or no promise.
He wouldn’t chase the gold for greed but to end this madness, to protect people. But right now, she couldn’t think beyond keeping him safe.
She drew the curtain open with a sharp tug and peeled off her gloves. “Sarah will give you an antibiotic salve. If the area gets redder, come back or see another doctor.”
As she reached for her tablet, Sarah appeared holding up a sticky note. “You have a call on line two. Dr. Donavan Jacobs.”
A stone dropped through her. “I’ll take it in my office.”
She’d called him back and had an interview yesterday, but the more she turned it over, the more it made her feel sick.
This North Rim community—rough, chaotic, alive—had become her anchor.
Noah had too. The way he’d held her last week in his Jeep, his heartbeat solid beneath her ear, had grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected—a quiet strength she couldn’t imagine leaving behind.
Her office was barely bigger than a closet, with dark brown paneled walls that made it feel even smaller. She picked up the phone. “Dr. Jacobs, thank you for following up. I’m not sure—”
“Before you decide, hear me out.” He outlined a job offer that made her pulse stutter. A salary triple what she made now. Benefits that actually covered things. And research—everything she’d once dreamed of in med school.
A younger Meg would have leaped at the chance, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to go. She wasn’t the best trauma doctor, but she was improving.
Her fingers toyed with the latest strange note. She’d gotten three now. All in green ink, the same precise block letters. All with obscure messages.
She flipped it open.
YOU SHOULD’VE LISTENED.
Then the one beneath it.
SOME CHOICES FOLLOW YOU HOME.
“I hope your silence means you’re considering it,” Dr. Jacobs said.
Meg set the cards aside, face down. “I’m not sure—”
“Meg, you are one of the smartest doctors I know. Don’t waste your talent handing out Band-Aids in the wilderness. I can give you a week to think it over. I’ll send an official written offer.”
The line went dead.
She opened the door to find Sarah waiting with a tablet. “Bay one’s ready. Knife fight.”
Meg accepted the tablet and swiped through the file as Sarah turned and walked to the exam room.
What she wouldn’t give for just dehydration or a sprained ankle—anything but the new normal of broken noses and alcohol-fueled brawls.
She scanned the tablet, eyes catching on the name field.
Noah Wilde.
Her breath caught.
He couldn’t be hurt. Not him.
The memory of Lydia’s blood overwhelmed her—warm and sticky, coating her hands. The girl’s chest caving beneath her CPR efforts.
She yanked the curtain back and prepared for the worst.
But Noah sat on the exam table and held a bandage to his arm.
Sarah arched a brow from where she stood by the supply cabinet.
Meg ignored her. “I’ve got this. Check on bay three.”
Sarah left and the curtain swished closed. She likely assumed Meg’s reaction stemmed from Meg’s two-year crush on Noah. If only Sarah knew how close Meg was to unraveling at the sight of his blood.
“Howdy, Doc,” Noah said.
She drew a slow breath to calm herself and stared at the glittery letters on his chest. “Nice sweatshirt. What happened?”
He lifted the bandage.
A three-inch gash on his forearm, edges clean. Blood oozing slowly. And his stupid, smug, handsome face completely calm. His eyes steady, watching her.
Meg moved to the sink and let cool water run over her hands. She scrubbed methodically, then snapped on fresh gloves.
Noah’s hand brushed her elbow as she turned back. “Meg?”
She blinked hard as his face came into focus—the concerned set of his brow. The panic attacks had only gotten worse since the cave.
His eyes softened as he read her emotions with unnerving clarity. He squeezed her arm gently and nodded—a silent reassurance that he was okay, that she was okay.
She forced herself to breathe. “Didn’t peg you for the type to jump into a knife fight.”
Noah shrugged. “Guess that’s what happens when you try to break up two hotheads with more testosterone than sense.”
Meg checked the chart. “You’re up to date on tetanus?”
“Always. You know me.”
“Sometimes I think I do. Other times, I’m not sure.” Her voice carried an edge, anger masking fear.
Noah’s hand closed around her wrist, steadying the tremor in her fingers. “You know me, Meg. Better than anyone. And I know you. You’ve got this.”
His touch eased the shaking. She nodded, not trusting her voice. He released her wrist.
“What are you wearing?”
Noah’s hand smoothed over the purple sweatshirt emblazoned with World’s Best Grandma in garish yellow letters. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
A small laugh escaped her. Shaky but real.
She positioned the needle and began the running stitch. Her movements were precise despite the proximity that made her pulse quicken. As she worked, her mind cleared. The gold. The violence. The chest. It all loomed. But Noah was here. Alive.
“Maybe next time, don’t step between two guys with knives.”
Keeping the knowledge of what very might well be another chest from Noah hadn’t protected him. Maybe telling him was the only way to keep him safe.
“Noah, about last week.”
His shoulder tensed.
“I know I said not to go back there, but I need to tell you something. I saw something in the cave—a box, like a crate, maybe a chest. It could be nothing.” She met his gaze. “But it could have been the gold.”
His expression was neutral. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you going back. I don’t want to go back.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “But if it’ll stop this madness, I’ll show you where it is.”
She tied off the final stitch and stepped back.
Noah’s hand landed on her arm with a light touch. His eyes were intense as they searched her face. “If you draw a map, Teague, Liam, and I can find it. You don’t have to go back.”
“I just can’t have any more senseless deaths.”
He looked about to say something, but she adjusted the tray and broke the moment. “Keep this clean and dry for forty-eight hours.”
Sarah pushed through the curtain with a green park-service T-shirt. “Ranger Joe sent this for you.”
Meg stripped off her gloves. “Perfect timing. The world’s best grandma is all done.”
Noah’s warmth faded, his expression unreadable.
“I’ll draw the map.” She turned to leave, her resolve hardened.
The canyon’s chaos. Noah’s hot-and-cold presence. The weight of lives lost. Lydia’s face, Jeremy’s accusations. The mysterious notes. It was too much.
She’d finish the month and ensure no one else died on her watch. Then she’d accept Dr. Jacobs’s offer.
A new start. Far from her problems.
Far from here.
Far from him.