Page 45 of Nothing But Air

He didn’t have a choice. He drew a deep breath and pushed. But the rock crumbled and his left foot nearly lost its perch. His arms began to shake as he used every ounce of strength to stay on the wall.

“Eden—” His voice cracked on her name. Pride and fear and the crushing weight of inadequacy pressed against his chest.

He forced the words past all of it. “I need you.”

I need you.

Three words. Crackling through the radio. Raw and vulnerable in a way Eden had never heard from Teague before.

Well. That’s one way to make a girl’s heart stop.

Her chest tightened—not with satisfaction at being right about the route, but with the sharp, cold clarity that came from transforming into rescue mode.

“On my way.” She forced her voice steady. Professional. “Marcus, Xander—anchor. Now.”

This was what she’d trained for. What she’d done dozens of times before Landon died. Assessment, planning, execution—a sequence that had once been as natural as breathing.

She dipped her hands into her chalk bag, the cool powder coating her palms. The sensation steadied her pulse. Grounded her.

Two years since she’d done this. Two years since she’d called the shots on a rescue.

Teague’s arms shook as fatigue started to set in, his weight distributed poorly across crumbling holds. The left route—exactly what she’d warned him about. The sandstone there was fractured, the holds deceptive, the kind of rock that looked solid until it crumbled beneath your fingers and sent you into nothing.

But that conversation could wait.

“Eden, need help over there?”

Kyle’s voice carried across the gap between routes, and when she glanced over, something in his expression made her stomach tighten.

He looked almost…satisfied.

What the?—

The observation sent an uncomfortable prickle down her spine.

“We’re good. Focus on your climb.” The words came out sharp. Kyle’s eyebrows rose, but he backed off.

Eden tested her gear one final time—checked the figure-eight knot at her harness, the locking carabiner on her belay loop, the rope feeding cleanly through her ATC. Then she started up the right side.

The stable route. The one she’d suggested from the beginning.

The one Mr. I-Know-This-Canyon ignored.

The rock was solid under her hands. Warm from the desert sun. Good crimps, solid jugs—the kind of features that inspired confidence.

Instinct took over. Finding holds. Testing weight. Committing to moves with the muscle memory of thousands of climbs.

Then—

She froze.

Her gaze darted to Teague, clinging to the wall thirty feet up. What if she couldn’t reach him in time? What if he fell? What if his equipment failed?

Landon’s face slammed through her mind. The way he’d smiled at her before he left for that final climb. His overconfidence that had led to his?—

Stop.

She forced herself to breathe. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. The way her old coach had taught her.