Page 80 of Nothing But Air

He found her about a hundred yards upstream.

She sat on a flat boulder overlooking a small waterfall—really more of a cascade where the brook tumbled over a three-foot drop. Her blonde braid hung over one shoulder. Knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. She didn’t turn when he approached, but her shoulders stiffened.

“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away.

“Hey.” Her voice was nearly lost under the sound of falling water.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Would it matter if I said yes?”

“Probably not.” He settled onto the boulder beside her, his ribs protesting with a sharp complaint. The canyon stretched before them, late-afternoon light turning everything gold. “Nice view.”

“Are you really here for small talk?”

“I’m here because you’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Eden’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Let me guess. Something along the lines of ‘I almost got him killed’ and ‘I can’t trust my judgment’ and ‘Everyone I care about is one bad decision away from disaster.’” He glanced at her. “How am I doing?”

She didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.

“I need you to gear up,” he said.

That got her attention. She turned to look at him, confusion and alarm crossing her face. “What?”

“You and me. We’re going for a climb.” He gestured back toward camp. “There’s a nice moderate route about fifty feet from where we’re set up. Good stone, easy approach. We’ve got several hours of daylight.”

“Teague, you’re hurt?—”

“Bruised and scraped. There’s a difference.”

“You fell forty feet.”

“And the rope caught me. That’s kind of the point of ropes.” He held her gaze. “You’re spiraling. So we’re going to climb. Besides, it turns out we need to get high enough to check the radio.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

“You’re insane.”

“Also probably.” He pushed himself to standing, ribs screaming in protest, and extended a hand down to her. “Come on.”

She stared at his hand but didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because you need to remember who you are.”

“You’re Eden Garrison. You know rock better than almost anyone I’ve ever climbed with.” He kept his hand extended. Steady. Sure. “One bad hold doesn’t change that.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“No.” He didn’t waver. “The rock failed. That’s not the same thing. I trusted your judgment then, and I’ll trust it tomorrow and the day after that.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked on the word.

“Because I trust you.” He let the words land. Simple. True. “Period. End of sentence. No qualifications.”