Page 79 of Nothing But Air

Not where Teague had planned to camp.

They should have been halfway to the next climb by now. They weren’t on a tight deadline, but every hour they spent not searching for the final chest was another hour the campground remained closed.

But one look at Eden’s face when they’d reached the canyon floor had told him they weren’t climbing again today.

She’d been quiet on the hike here. Not comfortable quiet—heavy silence. The kind that said she was drowning in her own thoughts. She’d helped set up camp with mechanical efficiency, her body going through the motions while her mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere dark.

Teague recognized that look. He’d worn it himself in the months after Chip died. The mental replay of regret. The self-blame.

“You think she’s okay?” Xander’s voice pulled him back.

Teague glanced toward where Eden had disappeared upstream twenty minutes ago. “No, but she will be.”

“That was rough up there.”

Rough didn’t cover it.

Teague could still hear the sharp crack of his helmet hitting limestone. Still taste the fear that flooded his mouth when that first cam ripped free.

But he was here. Bruised and scraped, but alive.

“She made the call she thought was right.” Teague secured the hose with a stone. “The rock quality looked questionable in that crack. Water staining, color variation. She wasn’t wrong to be cautious.”

“But she was wrong about the slab.”

“Rock fails sometimes.” Teague straightened slowly, his ribs complaining. “Doesn’t matter how experienced you are. Sometimes stone that looks solid just…isn’t.”

Xander twisted the coupling tight. “You’re being awfully philosophical about almost dying.”

“I’ve had practice.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“I’ve made bad calls too.” Teague wiped his hands on his pants. “Last summer I placed protection in a flake that turned out to be completely detached. Built an anchor once on a ledge that was basically sitting on ball bearings.”

Xander smiled slightly. “Or that time you jumped across eight feet of air like a crazy person.”

“Exactly.” A rueful exhale. “She still hasn’t forgiven me for that one.”

Xander studied him for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—understanding, maybe, or resignation. “You’ve got it bad.”

Teague could have denied it. Could have played it off as professional concern or teammate solidarity.

But Xander had been watching them the past couple days. He wasn’t stupid.

“Yeah.” The admission scraped out. “I do.”

Xander nodded slowly. “For what it’s worth? I think she has it pretty bad for you too.”

Teague’s mind returned to the slight nod during karaoke as the filtration pump hummed to life. Xander sat back on his heels.

“So go find her and get her to climb again. Marcus and I can handle dinner. You and I both know that if she sits in this all night, tomorrow won’t go well.” He tossed Teague the radio. “Take that. I haven’t been able to connect with base. Signal’s not going through. Maybe you’ll have better luck higher up.”

Teague clipped the radio to his belt. No signal? Great. One more thing to worry about.

But not right now.