Chapter 7 #2
“Teague wants to know if you are delaying the cave mission again due to weather.”
“We’ll look at the weather tomorrow. Over.”
“Copy that.”
Silence rushed back in, and Meg rose to her feet.
Noah stood. His hand caught her elbow as she turned. Not tight. Not restraining. Just enough to make her pause.
When she finally met his gaze, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “If the weather clears, are you up to going to the cave tomorrow? One last mission?”
She started to speak.
He held up his other hand. “You don’t have to. I’m leaving the choice up to you. Completely your call.”
Something shifted in her expression. Gratitude, maybe.
She nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
He released her arm. Watched as she turned and headed toward the door, footsteps echoing. Noah stood in the empty common room of the Ranger’s Roost, listening to the storm rage outside. The heater still clanging.
One last mission.
The words ran through his mind. Over and over.
They’d do this. Try to find the gold. Seal the cave. And then he’d let her go. Let her walk away to Pennsylvania. To safety. To the peace she needed and deserved.
But now that he knew—without doubt, without question—that he loved her, he also knew he’d do anything for her.
Including letting her go.
Even if it destroyed him.
Even if it killed him.
Finally a day of no rain, and Virgil was still giving them the red light. Evidently, seventy-percent chance of rain was still too high.
Teague Hamilton leaned against the map table in the center of the Grand Canyon ranger station, his fingers tracing worn edges of the topographic chart.
The station reeked of pine from the surrounding forest mixed with old coffee and the musty smell of wet canvas.
Damp gear hung in the corner from yesterday, still refusing to fully dry out.
Normally they kept wet stuff outside, but the storms lately made that impossible.
Monsoons never came this early. Not in July.
This summer? They’d started two weeks into June and never left.
At least fire danger was lower than usual, the gauge on the wall showing green—an unheard-of event for this time of year. Silver lining and all that.
Dark clouds still sat overhead, not interested in moving on.
So much for sealing that cave entrance.
But how long could they put it off before disaster struck again?
“Copy that.” Eden’s voice cut through the silence from the communications hub ten feet away on the south side of the room.
Okay, her hub was not much more than a desk, but with her cluttered setup—three monitors displaying weather radar, trail reports scrolling in real-time, and who knew what else—it was like she was manning her own space station.
“But you might want to be looking up for climbers rather than down for people rappelling.”
She laughed. Slight. Musical.
“I will update the team here and stand by.”
He glanced over, trying to look casual. Waited, pulse kicking up despite himself.
She was still typing. Her blonde hair tied in a messy bun under her ever-present headset, wisps escaping to frame her face. Pale-blue eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.
He blinked back at the map. He tried to focus on the problem, on elevation lines and trail markers and not the girl.
“What’s the update?”
She slid off the headset and disconnected it from the radio.
Set it aside carefully. “Abandoned gear spotted at Bright Angel—ropes, picks. South Rim is sending a team but will let us know if they need help. They think it’s just more people digging for the gold, but with the image they sent, I think their plan was climbing, not rappelling. ”
Teague straightened and walked over to her. He folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think that?”
Eden tapped her monitor. She zoomed in on an image of the gear pile—coils of rope and metal implements scattered on rock.
“The ropes are dynamic, not static. Dynamic ropes stretch to absorb a fall. Climbers use them for lead climbing on steep pitches. Rappelling needs static ropes—less stretch, better for controlled descents. The picks are lightweight ice axes designed for alpine climbing, not the heavy ones cavers use for digging. And the gear was coiled neatly at the base of a cliff face, like someone was prepping to ascend, not just dropping down.”
Color him impressed.
There was definitely more to this dispatcher than she’d let on.
He uncrossed his arms. Sat on the corner of the desk. “How do you know so much about climbing?”
“I don’t.”
A shadow passed over her face. Then she shook it away with a physical jerk of her head. But gone was the confident woman who’d sat there a moment ago. As if she’d pulled herself behind a wall. Only the carefully crafted Eden remained visible now.
Her past was off-limits.
Eden held out a paper to him. Her fingers brushed his for a split second.
A jolt shot through him. He tried to ignore it. Tried to keep his face neutral.
“These are the coordinates. They said they’d let us know if they needed backup.”
“If we haven’t left for the cave by then.” Teague carried the paper back to the table. Found the location on the map.
“You have to wait for that building storm to pass—too risky out there now.” Eden’s tone was firm. Her eyes flicked to the window, where rain obscured the canyon’s vast expanse.
He grinned. “Waiting’s not my style. You worried about me, Garrison?”
Eden rolled her eyes. She turned back to her log, pen in hand. But she couldn’t hide the concern that lingered in her expression. It betrayed her cool exterior. “Worried? Just don’t want to have to log a missing-ranger report before my shift ends.”
Teague chuckled and set his pack on the table. He unzipped it to check his gear—carabiners clinking together, rope coiled tight, flashlight with fresh batteries, compact first aid kit wrapped in waterproof plastic. “Admit it. You’d miss my sparkling presence if I vanished.”
Eden’s pen scratched faster across paper. “Sparkling?” Her voice was dry. “Your ego’s the only thing shining here, Hamilton.”
Teague opened his phone app and studied the storm pattern, swiping through layers. The radar showed a swirling mass of green and yellow stalled over the canyon.
Eden was an enigma wrapped in a professional demeanor.
He’d asked her out his first week at the station. Three months ago now. She’d turned him down faster than he could blink.
Talk about a hit to the ego. Still stung when he thought about it.
But he hadn’t missed how she went out of her way to talk to him since then. She watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And—if Betty, the station’s veteran admin, was right—chose shifts that aligned with his.
He wasn’t dumb enough to ask her out again. But his instincts told him her no was less about him and more about whatever kept that giant wall up.
So he’d settled for being her friend. Taken what she was willing to give.
But between her wit that kept him on his toes, her calm under pressure when everything went sideways, the way she held her own among the rough-edged rangers, and the way wisps of her blonde hair often fell across those pale-blue eyes…
Yeah. Friends was the last thing on his mind.
But until she was ready to let her guard down, friends it was.
And after that little evaluation of the climbing gear, Teague began to wonder if it was more than just walls that held her back.
A past. Something specific.
Secrets buried deep.
She had the heart of a climber—the soul of someone who understood vertical spaces. He’d bet good money on it. She’d let her knowledge slip too many times—moves, routes, holds, the way a cliff face could shift under weight. She talked like someone who’d been on the ropes, not just behind a desk.
The radio crackled. A deep voice filled the room. “Xander to Eden, we’ve got a visual on a group entering the Tapeats caves. Five individuals, maybe six.”
Xander.
Teague hadn’t met the South Rim ranger yet, despite working here almost three months. But Eden sure talked to him a lot. Okay, she talked to all the rangers a lot—it was her job. But there was something about this guy that bugged him.
“Copy that. Can you intercept them?” Eden’s voice returned, instantly professional.
“Negative. I know you think I am pretty amazing, but did I give you the impression I could fly, Eden? We are still on the south side of the Colorado.”
That. That flirty tone whenever Xander’s voice came over the radio.
That’s what bugged Teague.
“I don’t know. With the rescue you pulled off last week, I thought you might be hiding a pair of wings in there.”
Not to mention that the flirty tone that Xander seemed to pull from Eden—lighter, warmer than the voice she used with everyone else—didn’t help Teague like the guy either.
“I’ll send a team. Over.”
“Oh, and Eden.” Xander was back, of course. “We found the people who belong to the gear. Climbers headed up one of the larger rock spires. Looks like you were right. I guess I owe you a Coke.”
Teague’s gaze darted to Eden.
She snatched up the headset. She slid it back on and adjusted the mic. Her voice was cooler than it had been. “Just doing my job. No reward needed.”
Well. At least she wasn’t jumping at a date with Xander either. Small comfort but he’d take it.
Whatever Xander said next, she laughed one more time—that light laugh that did things to Teague’s chest. “Over.” She slid off the headset. Met his gaze across the room.
Did she look guilty? Maybe. Hard to tell.
Guilty about what?
She’d made it clear there was nothing between them. Maybe she just felt sorry for him because his feelings were clearly written on his face.
Awesome. A pity look from the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Teague reached for his pack, slung it over his shoulder just as the first few drops splattered against the window. “Call everyone in. Time to go hiking in a storm.”
“Are you sure that is safe?” This time she sounded worried. Not the professional dispatcher voice, but something real.