Chapter 7
Seven
Noah’s boots stopped in the doorway of the North Rim ranger station’s common room. Meg sat at the corner table. She sorted supplies like they mattered more than this conversation.
Another storm hammered the windows, rain lashing against the glass in sheets. Should’ve passed them by hours ago according to the forecast. Instead, it raged on, battering the old building, wind howling through gaps in the window frames.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. The room reeked of wet gear drying on makeshift racks and coffee that’d been sitting too long on the burner. “Meg, got a minute?”
Her whole frame went rigid. She didn’t look up, just kept zipping her bag with deliberate focus. When she finally turned, her arms folded across her chest, chin up—defensive. “Are you going to try to talk me out of the cave trip again?”
Liam’s words punched through his head. Then show it. And trust God to be God.
Yeah. Maybe they needed to talk about that too.
First things first.
He gestured toward the institutional couches near the stone fireplace. Park-service furniture from thirty years ago, upholstery faded and sagging. “I want to talk about Pennsylvania.”
Her jaw tightened. “What’s there to say? I’m taking a new job.”
“Can we sit?” He kept his voice even. Not pushing, not demanding. Not this time. “Just talk?”
She studied him, blue eyes serious. Like she was searching for the catch. The angle. The trap. Then she nodded once, crossing to the worn two-seater, springs squeaking as she sat. She settled her bag at her feet.
The heater rattled in the corner. It fought a losing battle against the cold seeping through every gap in the old building.
When he’d moved to Arizona, he’d thought he’d be too warm.
Maybe in much of the state, but at more than eight thousand feet, the North Rim didn’t even average eighty on a sunny day.
Add in the storms, and days could get downright chilly.
Noah dropped into the chair opposite her. Leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His heart hammered against his ribs. “I want to understand.”
I need to understand.
Because if he understood, maybe he’d know how to ask her to stay. How to give her a reason that mattered more than all the reasons to go.
Meg’s fingers found the strap of her bag again.
She fidgeted with the buckle. Her gaze dropped to the scarred coffee table between them.
“You know more than anyone why.” Her voice caught.
“My panic attacks have been getting worse, not better. This place…” She stopped.
Swallowed hard. “Ever since Nimue, it’s too much.
I feel like I’m just waiting for the next disaster.
Pennsylvania is a lab. Data. Controlled environments. No emergencies.”
“Is that what you really want?” It took all Noah’s control to keep his voice neutral. “I always got the impression you love working with people.”
Her laugh came out bitter. Sharp. “Was it when I froze while helping Nimue that I gave you that impression? Or maybe when I went into a full panic attack with Lydia in that cave?”
The sarcasm cut. But the pain in her eyes cut deeper.
Noah didn’t flinch. “It was when you stitched up Nimue’s hand off the books because you knew she needed help and wouldn’t ask for it.
” He paused. “It was how determined you were to make sure my back was okay last month, even when I kept telling you I was fine. It was the gentle way you cared for that little girl who split her head open playing ball a few weeks ago.”
Another pause. The heater clanged again.
“I’ve seen you with your patients. I’ve been one of your patients. You get joy from helping people. Do you really think you’ll be happy in a lab?”
“But when I can’t help people—” Her voice cracked. Her gaze dropped to her hands twisting in her lap. “When I can’t help, it doesn’t just steal my joy. It steals my breath, my control, my mind.”
“You mean your panic attacks.”
Soft. Not a question.
An acknowledgment.
“How long have you been dealing with them?”
Meg’s throat worked. Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. Vulnerable in a way that made his chest ache. “The first one was when I was about six. They got really bad for a while, but then with therapy, they got better. Until—”
She shook her head sharply. Whatever memory had surfaced, she wasn’t sharing it. Not yet.
“It’s always there, lurking in the background. I thought…I hoped it would be different here. But after…” She trailed off. “It’s time. I need something different.”
Different from the job.
Or different from him.
He had a sinking feeling it was both.
His chest tightened. He wanted to fix this. Make it better. But he wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted. What she needed. Not right this minute.
He held her gaze. Those deep blue eyes shone with unshed tears. “What happened when you were six?”
Her brow furrowed.
“You said the first panic attack happened when you were six.” He kept his voice steady. “What happened?”
She drew a shaky breath. Her fingers twisted together. Tighter. Her gaze unfocused. Distant.
“I was at the lake with my family. My brother, Jude—he’s a couple years younger than me—we were playing on the dock.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “He tripped and fell in, and I just froze.”
Outside, thunder rumbled. It rattled the windows.
“I can still see him.” The words came slowly. Painfully. “Just below the water, his hands reaching up toward me. And I didn’t move. Didn’t call for help. It was like I was paralyzed, like my body wasn’t my own.” Her voice cracked.
Noah couldn’t take it anymore.
He stood. He moved around the scarred coffee table and dodged the corner. He slid her bag to the side and knelt in front of her chair. Took her hand in his.
Ice cold. Despite the warmth of the room.
She blinked, coming back from wherever she’d gone. “Luckily an older cousin was nearby. He saw what happened and jumped in. If it had only been me…” Her breath hitched.
Noah reached up with his free hand. Brushed away a tear with his thumb. “But it wasn’t only you. And you were just a child, Meg.”
“That night I had my first nightmare. Jude under the water, drowning while I watched. In the dream, he died. I woke up screaming, in a full panic.” She gestured vaguely at her chest. “Eventually the memory started happening during the day too, bringing panic attacks. Then it wasn’t even the memory anymore—anytime I got overwhelmed, anytime I felt helpless, my body would just… shut down.”
Noah shifted. Sat beside her on the small couch, springs groaning, still holding her hand in both of his. “That sounds terrible.”
She stared at their interlaced fingers for a long moment. “My parents got me into therapy, and I really thought it was better. I went years without a major attack. But when I was in residency, we went on a family vacation and my dad—”
Her voice broke.
“He had a heart attack right in front of me. I tried to help him. I did everything I knew, everything I’d been trained to do, but it was like I was back on that dock, watching someone I love needing me to save them and being powerless.
Except this time, I wasn’t a kid. I was a trained physician, and I still couldn’t help.
The panic attacks came back worse than before. ”
Understanding clicked into place. “Which is why you planned on doing research after graduation.”
“But the funding fell through.” She gave a hollow laugh.
“I worked at the ER for a while and that was…I hated it. And when this opportunity came up at the Grand Canyon, I thought I could handle it. Squirrel bites and dehydration, minor injuries. All the major medical crises would be mostly handled by the SAR team. Besides, here—”
She stopped.
“There wasn’t anyone you loved who could be in danger,” Noah finished quietly.
She didn’t acknowledge his words. Just pressed on. “The panic attacks were better for a while. But this summer—they’re back and getting worse. People are dying and I can’t stop it. I can’t—”
“Was it Nimue’s injury that triggered them again?”
Meg’s gaze dropped. “It was around then. But Lydia…” Her breath quickened.
“In that cave, the dark closing in around us, her chest stopping under my hands. It seemed to amplify everything. Now every storm, every call, it’s like I’m waiting for…
” She glanced up. Met his eyes. Then seemed to shift what she’d been about to say.
“For my next failure. My chest tightens, I can’t breathe, and I’m useless. I’ve tried everything—breathing exercises, medication—but here, it’s constant. I need a new start. Pennsylvania’s my out. No caves, no rescues, just research and control.”
The fragility in her voice broke something in him.
He wanted her to stay. Wanted it like he’d never wanted anything more. But he loved her—no doubt about that now—and if she wanted this, needed this, he couldn’t take it from her for his own selfish reasons.
He’d been so wrapped up in his own grief. So busy pushing her away to protect himself from more loss that he’d missed seeing her pain. Her needs.
That ended now.
“And you think Pennsylvania is the answer?”
She lifted her head. Studied him with those blue eyes that saw too much. Then she nodded. Almost imperceptibly.
Right.
Then begging her to stay because he needed her would be selfish. If this place was breaking her, he had to let her go.
Even if it shattered him.
“Then you should go.”
The words tasted like ash.
Meg searched his face. Surprise flickered across her features. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”
He managed a small smile. He masked the ache threatening to split him open. “If you really think this is what you need, then no. You deserve that peace.”
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something more—something he desperately wanted to hear.
Noah’s radio crackled.
Of course.
“Noah, this is Eden. You copy?”
He stared at Meg. One more heartbeat. Two. Hating the interruption with everything in him. But he didn’t have a choice.
He unclipped his radio from his belt. “This is Noah. Go ahead.”