4. Chapter 4 #2
His jacket was unzipped; the uniform familiar and new all at once.
She remembered—as if it’d happened yesterday, the way that jacket looked draped over the kitchen counter.
Except it wasn’t the same jacket. The color was slightly darker.
They’d updated the uniforms. That’s how long it’d been since he’d belonged to her.
He looked … different. Broader than she remembered.
More weathered. The same posture, though.
So handsome that it hurt to look at him.
It hurt to think of what they’d had together, and what they’d never again have.
And his eyes … those familiar green eyes, which were currently fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach drop.
Forget climbing. This— this was like flying.
The world around them fell away. Kat’s voice. The children’s voices. Everything disappearing, until there was only the two of them.
Her pulse roared in her ears. She was suddenly, absurdly aware of the wedgie she’d been ignoring for what seemed like hours. A crazy, vain part of her rebelled—their meeting had to happen now, of all times, with her thighs bulging beneath her jeans, trapped by the too-tight harness.
It registered, briefly, that he looked shocked to see her. Shocked and pale. Like he might pass out any moment.
That thought gave her the courage to step forward, even though she wasn’t ready. She might never be ready.
“Lorenz,” she began, but didn’t get any further.
“Ms. Charlie?” a little boy said from her left. “Théo’s not here.”
The world snapped back into focus.
“What do you mean he’s not here?”
The little boy—Jonas—blinked. Worry grew in his blue eyes. “He was right there. And then he wasn’t.”
Charlie’s stomach tightened. She searched the group, but the boy was right. Théo wasn’t with the group any longer.
“Thank you for telling me, Jonas.” She forced her voice steady, calm. Her teacher-voice. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find him.”
Lorenz was moving towards her—eyes alert now. Purposeful. Professional.
Their gazes met again, briefly.
Later , his look seemed to say.
“Let us help,” Kat asked, stepping up beside her.
Lorenz
It was absurd.
A missing child, at a helicopter base full of gendarmes .
A few feet away, Beau barked into his phone. “And you didn’t step away?”
Whatever he heard must have reassured him. Moments later, he ended the call.
“The kid’s got to be inside the perimeter. Let’s grid the area. Starting at the hangars and working inward.”
There was no need to wait for the rescue team. Not at Les Bois. Within minutes, the search snapped into place.
Lorenz stood near the edge of the activity zone, scanning faces, movement. If the child hadn’t left through the main gate, he was still here—somewhere.
The remaining children clustered around their teachers, all thoughts of climbing forgotten now.
Parents had started arriving. That could help, if they took their children and left.
Or it could make everything harder if they decided to stay and watch.
Lorenz hoped Beau could push them toward the former decision.
Suddenly, Charlie appeared in front of him.
“Let me come with you. Please.”
“Stay with the other kids. We’ll find him.” He stopped just short of adding the words I promise . He knew better than to do that, and still, the words burned at the back of his throat. Because it hurt to see her looking so pale and shaken, even as she tried valiantly to hold everything together.
“Please. There are enough adults with the other students. I know Théo. He’ll be scared. I can help.” Her lower lip trembled.
They’d signed the divorce papers in their lawyer’s office. A single lawyer, because they hadn’t disagreed about anything. They’d signed, and then she’d gotten up and left the room. And that was the last time he’d seen her.
Until now.
He took her in. She’d always been beautiful.
That wasn’t new. But now, with her curls still flattened in places from the climbing helmet, springing loose everywhere else, and her cheeks still flushed from the climb, she looked …
like herself. The version of Charlie he’d loved the most—the one who always stepped forward to help others.
“Please, Lorenz,” she repeated, her voice softer now. “Please.”
Lorenz forced himself to think like a professional, not a man who’d just had his past shoved in front of him. She was right. What she was saying made sense.
“Stay with me,” he said quietly, already turning away. “Call out his name. But keep your voice calm.”
He saw her wince and knew he shouldn’t have added that last part. Charlie knew how to talk to children.
Gravel crunched under their shoes. Lorenz moved automatically, running through the list of blind spots. Gaps. Anywhere a small child could slip behind or crawl into.
“Théo,” she called, steady despite the tremor he could hear underneath. “It’s Ms. Charlie. Please come out. It’s okay.”
They passed the first hangar. Too open. A child wouldn’t choose that as a hiding spot.
Lorenz angled them toward the row of helicopters instead. He checked beneath the nearest fuselage. Nothing.
“Théo,” Charlie tried again. “You’re not in trouble.”
Despite himself, Lorenz turned to look at her.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, shoulders tight, but she kept moving forward and calling out to the boy, her voice kind.
They reached the third helicopter.
That’s when he saw it.
A shadow where there shouldn’t have been one.
Lorenz lifted a hand. Charlie stopped immediately.
He reached for the recessed handle on the side door. It was already partially open—something he should have noticed earlier.
Lorenz stepped quickly up into the helicopter.
The cabin was dim; the smell of fuel and cold metal familiar. His eyes took a moment to adjust along the seats, the empty floor.
Then—a small shift behind the second row of seats.
“Théo,” Lorenz said calmly.
Silence answered him.
“I know you’re back there,” he went on, voice low, unhurried. “Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He crouched, lowering himself so he wouldn’t loom over the boy.
“Can you come out? A lot of people out here are worried.”
Nothing.
Lorenz glanced back toward the open door. Charlie stood just inside, hands clasped tightly together.
“Your teacher’s right here. You don’t want her to worry, do you?”
Finally, movement. A small head peeked out from behind the seats.