8
COME BACK TO ME. Willow knew Sam didn’t mean it the way it sounded, his voice soft, even intimate. As if he meant it.
Of course he meant it—in a practical, we’re-on-the-same-team-so-stay-alive kind of way.
Not in the way her heart longed for him to mean it.
Silly, stupid—she’d clearly banged her head too hard against the glass, a wound, actually, that had started to burn with the sweat beading along her forehead.
Sam belonged to Sierra. More, Sam’s hero gene was probably twice the size of the average male’s. Of course he’d be giving off vibes of protection.
“Ten more feet. You’re doing great, Willow!”
Sam, encouraging her as he leaned over the edge of the cliff.
The harrowing part—where she scaled her way down the cliff one scrubby hold at a time—was over. Now, she wore a harness attached into a self-belay system, using the cams in the equipment pack to secure herself as she climbed back up the face. The emergency pack hung from her shoulders and was clipped around her waist.
This could have been the easy part if her shoulder wasn’t sending fire through her body, burning tears into her eyes, tempting her to let out a groan.
But she couldn’t slow down, couldn’t surrender. Not with Sam leaning over the cliff with such agony in his pale blue eyes, looking like he might do something crazy.
Like climb down after her, drag her up to the top.
She’d never had anyone look at her like that before—like he had to forcibly hold himself back from rescuing her—and frankly, it undid her a little.
Not unlike his Superman leap for her as he dragged her out of the van.
They needed to get back home, and fast, before her heart started to skew all this focused, devastating attention and convince her it was something more.
Sorry, Sierra. Willow shouldn’t even allow herself to think of Sam as anything but taken—should not be having memories of his arms around her last night, the heat of his body keeping her own alive.
And especially not while she fought to find a grip for her left foot, her hands grimy and sweaty, slipping a little on the tiny lip of a handhold.
She curled her thumb over the top, trying to add reinforcement to the bare hold, looking down to find a groove or a slit—
“To your left there’s an indentation.”
“My legs aren’t that long.” Still, she reached out for it and nearly slipped off her current hold.
“Sorry!”
“I’m okay, Sam.” Even if she did fall, her last cam was only a body-length away. She wouldn’t go far.
It might, however, hurt.
She brought her knee up, found a groove, and used it to leverage herself up to a pocket in the rock for her left hand.
Eight more feet. Sweat dripped down her back, along her forehead. The wind had turned brittle despite the warmth of the sun. She guessed they might be in for another storm.
They couldn’t spend another night on this ledge. Especially exposed.
The fact that she’d again risked the lives of her youth shook her to her core. Thankfully, they were in good hands—when she’d left, Josh had them circling to pray for her.
That was the kind of leader they needed, someone safe, who didn’t risk their lives.
Willow found a nice thick jug hold for her right hand. She pulled up, put her foot in the previous lip.
Four more feet, and now Sam did lean down, put his hand on her pack.
“Sam, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
But her words didn’t seem to matter as he practically hauled her up over the edge of the cliff.
Dragging her to safety beside him.
He was breathing hard, his face grim, sweat around the edges of his hairline.
“You okay?”
“That has to be the worst two hours of my entire life,” he said bluntly. “Are you okay?”
With him looking at her like that—as if he’d tear his heart out of his chest and give it to her if she asked? Um, yes.
“That was scary brave, Willow, and I’m a little sick for letting you do it. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking that I knew what I was doing. Now, help me off with this pack.” She reached for the belt, but her shaking hands gave her away.
Sam reached over, unbuckled the pack. Eased it off her shoulders. Quinn and Gus stood behind him, and now Quinn grabbed it from him.
She sat there, her legs drawn up, her arms circling them, her head bowed, just breathing.
Sam didn’t move. When she looked up, his blue eyes were in hers. He gave a little smile. “You did good.”
Her heart gave a traitorous leap of joy.
“Now we have to get these kids down.” He stood up and headed over to the pack. “But first, we clean you up. And secure Vi’s ankle.”
Vi whimpered, but she played the trouper as Sam dug out a cravat from the pack and wrapped it around her ankle, securing her foot.
“That should keep it from moving. Try not to bang it.”
He moved over to Willow. “Your turn.” He touched her chin, angling her head to take a good look at her wound. “I’m afraid of grinding the glass into the wound, so I’m just going to irrigate it, then cover it with a bandage.”
“Sam, we don’t have to do this now.”
“Shh. I know it hurts.”
It did hurt, but in light of . . .
His thumb ran across her cheek, a quick tender swipe that probably didn’t mean anything at all but had her breath squeezing out of her chest. “It’ll just take a minute. I hate looking at it.”
He didn’t say why, he just grabbed a travel bottle of saline. “Close your eyes. This might hurt, sorry.”
She closed her eyes. He grabbed her good shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he squirted saline over her wound. More surprising than painful. She inhaled as the saline dripped down her hair. He used a gauze pad to flick away the glass.
“It looks pretty clean, but you’ve got a vicious gash there. I wish I had ointment.”
She grabbed his wrist, eased his hand away from her head. “It’s fine, Sam. Really.” She met his eyes, just so he’d believe her.
His mouth tightened into a grim line, as if he didn’t want to accept it. Then he sighed, nodded. But for a second, she thought she saw his eyes glisten.
As if it pained him.
“Let’s get these kids off the ledge,” she said before her emotions could find her voice.
He began to root through the pack. “I’m sure Gage packed a mechanical descender—it’s standard in all our packs . . .” He unearthed a metal belayer/descending device. “We can lower each person down with this.”
She unhooked the rope from the harness, and Gus and Quinn pulled up the slack.
Sam went to work rigging a belay system using the webbing and the rope and more cam anchors. When he finished, he climbed into a second harness and hooked himself into the anchor.
“Are you sure you want to do the belaying? Your ribs—”
“I’m sure.” His tone cut her off, betraying again just how hard it had been for him to watch her sidle down the cliff and climb back up. With the harness sitting at Sam’s hips, maybe he wouldn’t injure himself further.
“Who goes first?” she asked.
“I think we need to have an adult at the bottom,” he said and glanced at Josh.
Josh stiffened but nodded.
“Have you ever been climbing, Josh?” Willow asked as he tugged on the harness.
“A few times at a gym.”
“I’m sure they lowered you down, right? Once you reached the top?”
He nodded. She wanted to wince at the brutal angle of his nose. Up close, he looked like he’d done time in a UFC ring and lost in a knockout.
“So, just lean back and Sam will lower you down. When you get to the bottom, unhook the harness, then climb out of it and send it back up.”
He swallowed, nodded.
To her eye, he still looked like a sixteen-year-old kid.
He walked over to the edge of the cliff.
“There are a couple of footholds just over the edge. Step on those, then lean back. Sam will do the rest.”
Josh gave her a tight nod, then stepped over the edge, visibly trembling.
Sam just sat there, his mouth a tight bud of impatience. “Ready?”
Willow put a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Look up, Josh. Not down. That’s the key.”
He found her eyes, his gaze latching on to hers. “Good advice,” he said and flashed her a smile.
Then, slowly, he leaned back, his hands on the rope. “Ready.”
Sam slowly let the rope out, sliding it through his gloves.
Willow got on her knees and leaned over the edge to watch. Josh worked his way down steadily, walking with the rope.
He settled at the bottom, not far from the destroyed van. A few minutes later, Sam started hauling up the harness.
“Maggy, you’re next.”
Maggy had slammed her mouth against something in the accident, so her lip was fat, and her eyes were reddened from crying. Willow pulled her into a quick embrace, smoothing her curly brown hair, then took her by the shoulders.
“Sometimes, when I’m afraid, I sing,” she said, and began to hum the only thing that came to mind.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.
Maggy picked up the tune and began to hum as Willow outfitted her with the harness and gave her the same instructions as Josh.
The song rose to her as Maggy descended, humming, then mouthing the words.
Dawson went next, eager to get off the cliff, then Riley, who caught her arm. “Sorry,” he said.
“Nothing to be sorry about. We’re in God’s hands.”
He wore a tight-lipped disagreement as he headed over the edge.
But really, she meant it. The fact she wasn’t shaking with fear filled her with a strange sense of power.
Especially when she glanced at Sam, and he winked.
Huh. Maybe they would live through this.
Zena, then Quinn and Gus. Willow winced at the gritting of Sam’s teeth, the sweat that beaded on his forehead when he lowered the big guy.
Finally, Vi. Willow got her up, gently worked on her harness. “Vi. You are stronger than you think. You can do this. Sam will lower you slowly . . . just sort of hop down. Lean back, let him do all the work.”
She helped Vi over the edge, held her arm as she leaned back. Kept her gaze in hers as Vi descended.
“Now what?” Willow said as Vi reached the bottom, collapsing into the arms of Gus. Josh was helping her off with her harness.
“Now you go, Willow,” Sam said.
“But—”
“When you get to the bottom, I’ll rappel down. It’ll be easy with the descender, I promise.”
He wore his Deputy Brooks face.
He pulled the harness up, and she took it and climbed in, cinching it tight. Clipped in the rope.
She was just walking to the edge when he added, “We’re going to make it, Willow. We’re going to get home, and everything’s going to be fine.” He offered a smile, so much warmth in it, it almost turned her weak.
But even as she nodded, even as she stepped over the edge, her life in Sam’s strong hands, Willow knew that no, after today, with Sam back in Sierra’s embrace, Willow would probably never be fine.
Sam sat in the rocky wash, his back to a boulder, staring at the crushed remains of the van, unable to find words.
Just in case he was caught in some crazy nightmare, he blinked.
The van remained, the front windshield blown out, the top pancaked in, glass scattered, oil and gas blackening the earth.
He couldn’t move. Or take a full breath.
Never mind the ache in his side whenever he inhaled. Or exhaled. Or really, thought about the fact that they could have slipped right over the edge in their initial careen down the hillside, ended up dead under a twisted coffin of metal.
Willow’s words yesterday on the mountain had an ironic twist.
“See, when we’re stuck in our everyday troubles, we can get focused on them, and that’s all we see. We don’t see God at work in our lives, just the darkness around us.”
In this case, the light of day told him exactly how God, maybe, had saved them. That was the only answer to why they hadn’t perished or at the very least ended up with more than a few scratches. Yes, Vi probably had a broken leg, and they all appeared banged up—split lips from hitting the seat in front of them or from flying debris, Josh’s horribly broken nose, Willow’s shoulder, clearly still aching judging by the way she favored it.
But all of them were breathing, and, save any more crazy accidents, would stay that way.
Against his gut advice, Quinn and Riley had shimmied through the dented window frames in search of their personal belongings—backpacks, iPhones, food. Probably a good idea, because now the youth group sat around finishing off the hiking lunch leftovers, drinking water, and adding layers that they hadn’t been able to locate last night.
Someone had given Willow a brown wool stocking cap for her wound. Her golden brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders. She sat with Vi and Maggy, sharing a cheese stick and a package of Oreos, probably speaking words of encouragement.
The woman who’d nearly shaken apart after the crash, or even the one who’d leaned into his embrace last night, had vanished when she’d climbed down to retrieve the pack. Determined. Brave. Risking her life for her youth group.
His stomach still roiled at the memory of it. The second she started climbing down, his gut knotted, his hands turned slick, and he’d wanted to reach down, yank her back.
Some hero he was.
A little broken rib—and he felt pretty sure that he’d managed to break at least one, given the radiating pain under his arm—shouldn’t have kept him from taking her place.
He glanced at Willow now, the way she leaned her head back against the boulder.
He hadn’t realized, really, how amazingly pretty she was. With the slightest smattering of freckles across her nose, and lips that curled up into a smile almost on their own. Her hair took on a burnished gold sheen in the sun, and a warmth shone in her hazel-blue eyes that pressed him to keep looking, discover that light that glimmered inside.
He exhaled, pulling himself back. It was just the emotion of the crash, the relief at being at the bottom of the cliff. Safe.
Josh came over, sank down next to him. “Now what?” He offered Sam a beef jerky roll, and Sam took it. “Wait here to get rescued?”
The PEAK chopper did have a better chance of spotting them in the ravine—if it happened back on its search. Still . . . “I don’t think so. They’re not looking for us this far north. Once they figure out we’re not at Huckleberry Mountain, they’ll spread out, but my guess is that they’ll go east, deeper into the park to the more travelled hikes. The Numa Trail Lookout isn’t a hugely popular destination.”
“We should have turned around at Huckleberry Mountain,” Josh said darkly. “We never had permission to take the kids to Numa. I should have stepped in, but I wanted to trust Willow. Frankly, I don’t see what Willow’s point was in taking us to such a remote location.”
Sam couldn’t exactly place the rise inside him, why he felt the sudden need to come to her defense. He’d been thinking the exact same thing no less than twenty-four hours earlier.
“The remoteness is probably why she took us there—so we didn’t have any distractions.” He looked at Josh. “Willow loves these kids. I think she was just trying to help them see beyond their lives—high school, if I remember correctly, is a bit of a war zone. You never know when you’re going to get blown up.”
“I was homeschooled,” Josh said, “but I doubt a little hike in the mountains is going to keep these kids from sleeping around or doing drugs.”
“Maybe not, but it might help them get ahold of their lives afterward, when everything is in shambles.” Not that he knew, exactly. He’d packed his shattered life into a hard ball, shoved it deep inside to simmer like a peat fire. Maybe he should have taken his brother on such a hike, back in the day, helped them get a different perspective, find their footing.
Except Pete would have been like Quinn, sitting apart from everyone else, aloof, alone. Not in the least interested in what Sam had to say.
“We need to help them make right choices at the beginning. So they don’t find themselves picking up the pieces.”
Funny, it seemed that life was always about picking up the pieces. He frowned at Josh. “We’re talking about teenagers here. They live from one impulse to the next.”
“That’s why you get into their lives and help them curb the impulses.”
He glanced again at Willow. Maybe teenagers weren’t the only ones in need of curbing their impulses. Because his current impulse had to do with Willow, and the fact that he couldn’t get his mind—or gaze—off her.
He could probably blame it on his need to get them all to safety.
Or not. Because right then, she looked at him and met his eyes. Smiled at him.
Heat shot right through him.
Sam swallowed hard. This was simply a reaction to the stress of the last few hours.
The fear that she’d plummet right off the cliff and he’d have to watch Sierra’s sister die.
Although, for a while there, he’d forgotten that part—Sierra’s sister. She’d become just Willow. His partner in getting these kids home.
Something about being with her, despite the trauma of the past day, seemed . . . healing maybe, and didn’t that sound crazy? Because he should be taken apart by their predicament.
Instead, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt less shattered, and the angry burr under his chest seemed to have shifted.
But then what? In a few hours, they’d be back in Mercy Falls and life would reset. He’d find Sierra, figure out how to make it work between them. According to his calculations, it should work. Sierra was exactly the girl he’d waited for. She fit perfectly into his life. Organized, capable, a little domestic, kind, patient.
Willow was—aside from being Sierra’s kid sister—messy, impulsive, reactive, emotional. She wore her heart on the outside of her body, taking no care to protect it. Frankly he’d always be a little worried about Willow that way. Sierra could take care of herself. Hadn’t she walked away from Ian when she realized he didn’t have the same feelings for her?
Although, knowing Ian like Sam did, there was more underneath Ian’s polished exterior than he let on. If he’d only reached out to Sierra, let her glimpse his heart . . . Which meant that maybe, to keep Sierra, Sam would just have to be more forthcoming about his feelings. Maybe if she knew . . .
What? Because at this moment, the only emotions he could pin down had everything to do with wanting to pull Willow back into his arms.
Oh no.
“We need to get going,” Sam said now, to Josh.
“To where?” Josh said.
Willow had gotten up, dusted herself off. She had added a windbreaker over her fleece pullover. That, a pair of Gore-Tex hiking pants, sturdy boots, and she appeared ready to hike Everest.
Sam got up. Stared up the cliff, trying to spot the road. But with the cliff and overhang . . . Farther ahead in the distance, the mountains curved, and he spotted the hazy outline of a cutaway that could only mean the highway. If he could find a place where he could hike up, he could get help.
Don’t leave. Willow’s voice. He shook it away and gestured to the youth to gather in. All but Vi got up and walked over to him. Even Quinn joined them.
“We can’t stay here. The chopper doesn’t know where to look for us, and there’s no shelter. But if we head down the ravine, maybe we can find a place to hike up to the highway, okay?”
Nods all around. “Gus, can you carry Vi for a while?”
“Sure, boss,” Gus said.
“Okay, let’s gather up the gear. Quinn, could you take the emergency pack?”
To his surprise, Quinn nodded. Not that Sam expected him to flip out or anything, but still, the way the teen walked over and put on the pack without a moment’s extra thought, that, and the way Quinn had saved his life last night—maybe Sam had judged him wrongly.
Gus picked up Vi, who looked like a three-year-old on his back, and they all started hiking down the ravine.
Sam fell in step next to Quinn. “Hey.”
Quinn glanced at Sam, one eyebrow up.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?”
Sam walked along, his hands in his pockets. “I dunno. A grizzly attack last week, a car accident this week, just sort of wondering what you had on the schedule for next week.”
A twinge of a smile.
“Maybe don’t get in any airplanes.”
Quinn chuckled. “Right?”
Sam looked ahead, checking on their motley crew. Willow hiked behind him, still talking to Maggy, but Zena, Dawson, and Riley headed up their trek, with Gus and Vi behind them. Vi hung on like a trouper.
“How’s Bella?” Sam asked.
“She’s out of the hospital,” Quinn said. “Still hasn’t been back to school. Her parents won’t let me see her.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I guess they’re right. If I hadn’t dragged her out into the woods . . . But it wasn’t what they think. I wasn’t trying to . . .” His mouth tightened. “Anyway, I just want to apologize to her, but they won’t let me near her.”
Something about his tone gave a tug on Sam’s heart.
“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”
How many times had he heard that in his career as a deputy? People just didn’t think about their actions, ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And that’s where he and his team came in.
Sam couldn’t deny a small niggle of annoyance every time he got a call. If people just obeyed the rules, thought before they acted, no one would need to be rescued in the first place.
Like them. If he hadn’t been hurt by Sierra’s absence, the feeling that she’d lied to him, hadn’t let his emotions take over, he would have left a message, at least alerted someone to their whereabouts.
He looked at Quinn, understanding his sigh completely.
“Hang in there, kid. Everyone lived, and in time, Bella’s folks will come around.”
“I doubt it. They have me pegged as trouble in their minds. My dad too.” He glanced at Sam. “Thanks, by the way, for calming him down the other night. He gets pretty . . . Well, he’s all Senator Starr in public, but sometimes he acts like he’s still in the military at home.”
Quinn walked out ahead of him.
His words, however, unsettled Sam.
He heard scuffling behind him and looked over to see Willow catching up to him.
“Hey,” she said, a little out of breath. She jutted her chin toward Quinn. “I saw you talking to Quinn. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Well, things aren’t always easy for him with his dad.”
“I got that,” Sam said. “You don’t think that . . . Senator Starr isn’t the kind of guy who would add a little physical incentive to get his way, is he?”
Willow glanced at him, her eyes wide. “I don’t know. Why, do you think that . . .”
“No. I don’t. But Quinn just mentioned how his dad is still pretty military.”
“Oh yeah. He wants Quinn to attend the Naval Academy and follow in his footsteps. He rides Quinn pretty hard. But Quinn loves music—he’s been hoping to get a job at Ben’s studio, maybe as an intern, so . . .” She lifted her shoulder. “I’m sure the senator is thrilled. I can bet the disagreement has made for a few battles.”
“When Pete said he wanted to be a firefighter, I wanted to throttle him.”
“And yet, he became this amazing smoke jumper.”
“I suppose. I always thought we’d both go into the family business, with my dad. After he died, I thought that Pete would want to take up the mantle. Especially the building side of the company. He and Dad shared that—a love for building.”
“Why didn’t you take over the company?”
“My uncle ran it with Dad, and he just took it over. I graduated just a few months after Dad died. My uncle didn’t need me in the business, and frankly, working construction just opened the wounds. Pete and I used to go out on jobs with Dad—worked every summer alongside him. And doing that without him . . .” He shook his head.
“In fact, I couldn’t do anything we used to do together—fish, ski, even hike the park. It was just a reminder of what I didn’t have. I joined the Mercy Falls Sheriff’s Department right out of high school, took classes, became a peace officer, and worked my way up. I like working with the PEAK team.”
“It allows you to do what you couldn’t do for your dad.”
He looked at her.
“Save people.”
Oh. Right.
She cringed. “I did it again. Spoke without thinking. Sorry, Sam—I didn’t mean to open wounds.”
“No, you’re right, Willow. I couldn’t save my dad—”
“That’s not what I meant. You have hero written all over you.”
He went warm at her words, all the way through to his core. Hero. Written all over him.
When she said it like that . . .
“I’ll bet your dad would be really proud of you.”
The words turned sour in his gut. “I don’t think so. My dad and I were very different. He was more like Pete—loved to laugh, have a good time. They were risk takers—both of them. When Pete went down the mountain that day, I wanted to go down a different, safer way. We had an argument, and Pete won. Dad went his way.”
“Why? Was he afraid Pete would get hurt?”
Around them, the ravine had started to narrow, and the breeze brushed the pine trees. Behind the rush of wind, Sam picked up the sound of water. Maybe they could find a creek, fill their water bottles.
“I used to think so, but Pete was sixteen and an accomplished skier. I think Dad just . . . wanted to. He chose Pete over me.”
He’d never really heard himself put it that way, and the rawness of his words turned his throat thick. Oddly, he couldn’t stop. “Dad’s last words to me were, ‘Live a little, Sam.’ Then he took off. And somewhere in that back country, he got lost, fell into a tree well, and froze to death.”
Sam blinked away the sudden burn in his eyes, shook his head. “So no, I’m not sure he’d be thrilled with my life.”
“Why? Being a cop is an honorable profession.”
“It’s not the cop part he would hate. It’s the fact that . . .” He looked away, not sure how they’d gotten so far into his life, digging around in places he’d rather stay buried. But Willow made it okay with her soft gaze, the way she listened.
“I don’t think I’ve let myself really live since he died. I had Mom to take care of, and Pete just went off the deep end. Someone had to pull our lives together. But I can’t shake off Dad’s words, that I’m missing something. Not living . . . if that makes any sense.”
She nodded slowly. “And that’s what makes you so angry at Pete. Because he is always living life.”
He blinked at her. “Yeah. Exactly. He apparently had no problem getting over losing Dad. It’s almost as if he’s more alive. BASE jumping. Skydiving. And don’t tell me that his long list of women isn’t another way of living life in the moment.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be like that.”
“But you resent that he is.”
“We can’t end up with another death in our family. It would put Mom under. She’s been through so much. Dad. Her cancer. She deserves a chance to be happy. She can’t lose Pete . . .”
“Or you,” she said softly.
He frowned. Lifted a shoulder. “She won’t lose me.”
“Because you don’t take chances?”
“No, I don’t. I think before I act. I don’t put myself in danger.” He gave a rueful smile. “Usually.”
“I know.”
Something in her eyes, the way they reached out with such a look of pure admiration, had that band around his chest tightening.
Willow was so easy to talk to, a guy could get himself in over his head. He’d just told her more in ten minutes than in all his dates with Sierra.
With that knowledge, Sam’s mouth went a little dry. He looked ahead, terribly aware of the thunder of his pulse. Good grief, he needed to get ahold of himself.
“That’s probably why Sierra and I are so right for each other. Because she too thinks through everything. Plans it out, organizes it. I really respect that about her.”
Wow, his chest ached, especially when he chased his words with a polite, distant smile.
Willow nodded, her own smile fixed. “Yeah, I know. You and Sierra are perfect for each other.” She looked out ahead, picking up the pace just a little. “And she’ll be so glad to see you when we get back.”
He didn’t know why, but frankly, at this moment, he couldn’t care less.
The SAR professional she was, Jess practically ran the six miles up Huckleberry Mountain.
Right on Pete’s tail.
No complaining, just her breath huffing out as they pressed on, past McGee Creek, through the towering stands of lodgepole pines, then along the saddle beneath the towering Apgar Mountains. They’d stopped for a brief water break when they hit the ridgeline, then Pete couldn’t help himself and practically ran the quarter mile to the summit.
Now, beside him, Jess gripped her knees, catching her breath as they stared out at the magnificent panorama.
At the top, a fire lookout offered a view of the Livingstone Mountains rising gray and rugged against the sky, now tufted with heavy cumulus lying low against the peaks.
A winter wind bullied his fleece, and despite his desire to shed his outer layer, Pete didn’t want the sweat turning to chill.
Good way to catch a cold, and frankly, he needed all his energy.
Sam was out there, somewhere, maybe hurt. Maybe dying. It felt just like the past repeating itself.
“I know we were walking fast, but I had my eye out for anything—fibers, a wrapper, even footprints,” Jess said, standing up and digging out her water bottle. “I don’t think they’ve been up here.”
Which meant, of course, he’d wasted the past two hours on a fruitless search.
Pete checked his watch, then pulled out his walkie and tried to connect with his team.
Nothing but static, and he moved around the mountaintop, trying for reception. No surprise; the mountains probably obscured the signal.
“We’ll try a little farther down,” she said. “I got a signal in the parking lot on my cell. I’m sure we’ll be able to catch it there.”
Pete slipped the radio back into his vest pouch. “Where could they have gone?”
Jess stood staring out at the view, as if lost in thought. The wind tangled her blonde hair, which was caught back in a wool hat. She held a water bottle, her thumb running up and down along the surface.
“I can’t date a teammate.”
He didn’t know why those particular words thundered back to him in this instant. Maybe it was the fatigue.
Or maybe it was because the incredulity in her voice still rocked him.
Really?
Good. If he were honest, the idea of Ty dating her put a fist in his gut. Pete had seen the guy checking Jess out—and frankly, who wouldn’t?
The woman was the complete package of fun and steel-edged determination. The kind of girl a guy wanted on his side, during—and after—a callout. Funny, compassionate, easy to talk to.
Breathtakingly gorgeous, even with paint on her chin. Especially when she looked at him, gave him an encouraging smile.
He wanted to take back his words in the truck, egged out of him by her probing. Tallie is nice? Really, Jess?
Which was why he gave her the knee-jerk response.
“I’m not the kind of guy who calls back the next day. I never have been. I don’t want more, okay?”
With her, he’d nearly forgotten that.
“I’m just not the guy you want to build a life with. I don’t see a home or a family in my future.”
Call him crazy, but he’d sort of felt like that was exactly what they were doing, fixing up Jess’s house. Picking out tile and paint colors and even talking through future improvements. Like they might be a couple investing in a house. A future.
The one Pete wanted to deserve.
“Let’s get going,” he said.
Jess took another drink, capped the bottle, and slipped it back into her pack.
He stood there, staring at the view of the park, the endless jagged crevices, the undulating foothills covered in lush, impenetrable pine. The foamy, nearly frigid rivers, and above it all, the tumble of gray storm clouds.
Jess touched his arm, squeezed, and he came back to himself.
“We’ll find them, Pete.”
The knot in his chest released, just a little. “The sooner we get down, the sooner we can figure out a new strategy.”
“Maybe Ty and Gage found something.”
She set off down the trail, picking her way over the bouldered path, her steps sure as she jogged down.
The trail ran along the ridge, then dropped down into the scattered forest. Spires of black pine and Fraser fir jutted up, edged by thick tangles of scrubby huckleberry bushes still laden with blue, plump fruit. The trail rambled down between the bushes, mountain ridges rising on either side, the glorious jagged Apgar Mountains in the distance.
Jess stopped once, held up her phone to the air.
“Any signal?”
“Nothing.”
He wore a lightweight wool hat and kept it on, despite the sweat at his temples. He blew out a breath.
Jess’s expression softened. “If anyone knows how to survive in the woods, it’s Sam. He’s not going to let anything happen to these kids.”
“That’s the thing—you’re right. Sam’s always been the one with the level head. He’s not going to do something stupid, ever. So the fact that they aren’t here feels so . . . irresponsible.” Pete gave a wry smile. “Something I might do.”
“You’re hardly irresponsible.” Jess started down the trail again.
He fell in behind her, kept her killer pace.
The woman just might be bionic.
“You clearly haven’t been listening to my brother, then.” He didn’t know why the wounds of his father’s search felt suddenly so raw. “When we lost Dad, Sam told me that all I wanted was to have fun, that I didn’t care who I hurt. Maybe he was right.”
She rounded on him so fast he nearly knocked her over. He grabbed her arms to right himself, to keep her from going flying. “What—”
“Are you kidding me? He’s not right. Look at you—nearly frantic with worry, climbing a mountain in record time to try and find him.”
“I’m not frantic,” he said. Except, well . . . “It’s just . . .” He shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s just that Sam’s pretty much hated me from that day on. And the thought of him still . . . I shouldn’t care, I guess.”
“You don’t want your fight at the Gray Pony to be the last time you ever saw your brother.”
Somehow Jess had that power to look right through him, part the clutter, and get to the bones of the situation. He gritted his jaw and looked away. “I had no idea how much he hated me until Friday night.”
“Sam doesn’t hate you.”
“Really? You didn’t see his expression. The guy would have mopped the floor with me—or tried—right there if Ian hadn’t pulled him off.”
The fact he’d admitted that took all the energy out of Pete. And now his eyes burned. “The worst part is, we used to be friends.”
She took his hands, squeezing them. “No, the worst part is that Sam is your big brother. You admired him. You loved him, and . . .” Her words stopped then, her breath tremulous, and her teeth caught her lip, as if fighting a strange surge of emotion. “And he betrayed you when you needed him most. Your dad was . . . in trouble. Lost. Dead. And you needed Sam to not blame you—you were already blaming yourself enough. But he did. He turned on you, pointed a finger, and decided you were a blemish on the family. Pushed you away.”
He had a feeling they weren’t only talking about him and Sam.
Still, her words gathered inside him, forming into a hot ball in his throat. “Sam changed after that. He was already so serious, but after Dad died, he became almost driven. Wanted me to go to college—which I didn’t. He started policing my life.” Pete shook his head, the heat settling into his chest. “Probably that’s why he became a cop—to keep me out of trouble.” He gave a wry grin, trying to ease the moment. “Apparently, that didn’t take.”
“Pete.”
“I can’t . . .”
“Lose him?” Jess said, her voice trembling. “No. Because if you do, then you’ll forever live with the what-ifs. Wonder what you could have done differently.”
They were definitely not only talking about him. He fought the desire to put his hand to her cheek, thumb away the moisture he saw forming in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry—it’s just that I think you’re wrong about one thing.” She reached up, wiped her fingers under her eyes. “Sam loves you. Or at least, doesn’t want to leave things like they were, either.”
He frowned.
“He called you. Yesterday, right? We were in the bathroom.”
“No. He called on your phone, looking for Sierra.” Pete stilled then. “Jess. When exactly was that?”
She pulled out her cell phone, scrolled down. “Around 9:30 a.m.”
“When did we lose reception here?”
“We had it in the parking lot. But pretty quickly after we started the hike, I think.”
“Right. When did they leave for the park?”
“Sierra and Willow left at 6:00 a.m. They picked up the kids at 6:30 and were at PEAK around 7:00 a.m. They probably left soon after that.”
“An hour more to the trailhead, at the most. Even if they were delayed, there’s no way he could have called you at 9:30. He would have been out of cell phone range by then.”
Her eyes widened. “Right. All we need to do is find the cell phone pockets in the park—the places he could have traveled to by 9:30 a.m. that still had reception. We need to get a map, start tracking down all the lookout towers.”
“Why lookout towers?”
“Willow is obsessed with them. That’s why she climbed to Granite Chalet earlier this summer.”
Right. When the same youth group got trapped by an early summer flood. Willow had some kind of crazy bad luck when it came to youth outings.
“And that’s why she wanted to come here.”
“So, you’re thinking that—”
“They saw the grizzly warning sign and turned around, went to a different hike. And maybe that was Sam trying to call Sierra to tell her.”
“And got me,” Pete said. “Only to hang up when I told him she wasn’t there.”
Jess put her hand on his arm, squeezed, her beautiful eyes shiny, a deep aquamarine in the sunlight, the kind of eyes a man could lose himself in. Especially when her lips curled into a delicious smile.
For a second, all Pete could think of was lowering his mouth to hers, tasting that smile, letting it seep through him, fill him with her touch. He wanted a piece of all that sunshine, the way she could make him feel like he wasn’t the guy who broke hearts, but the one who fixed them.
He couldn’t stop himself. “Jess,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to touch her face. His gaze roamed her face, stopped at her mouth.
She stiffened. “Pete.”
Oh. His breath trickled out, and he caught himself. Right. What was he doing—
“Don’t move.”
It was the way she said it, softly, her eyes not on him at all, but past him, her gaze widening with a flush of panic.
“What?”
She reached out and gripped the front of his jacket. “Move very slowly and keep your voice down.”
Now she was scaring him. Especially when she met his gaze. “I don’t think she’s seen us yet—we’re downwind.”
Downwind? He frowned at her, then very slowly turned to look over his shoulder.
Forty feet away, ruffling around in the huckleberry bushes near the top of the ridge, a silver-tipped grizzly sow rooted for the plump berries, fortifying herself for hibernation.
And lost in the bushes beside her, two hungry cubs.
He put his arm around Jess. Pulled her to himself. “Stay with me,” he whispered.
She nodded.
Very slowly, he crouched down onto the ground, urging her alongside him.
Then he began to crawl, low, toward the shelter of the brush, through the ferns, the huckleberry, the sparse low-hanging pine.
Jess scooted in beside him, wordless, wincing when branches cracked under her.
He reached a thick, towering pine tree, scuttled underneath, and without a second thought, pulled Jess in beside him, nestled her under his arm, protecting her with his body as they hid under the tree. Ferns and huckleberry rose around them, scant protection on the scrubby trail.
However, if the animal wanted to get to Jess, it would have to tear Pete off her first.
“Maybe the pine scent will cover ours,” he said quietly into her ear, his gaze on the bears. They rooted around the faraway huckleberry, taking their time.
“Is that the same bear as—”
“I don’t think so—maybe. We’re about ten miles from the pit, and usually grizzlies stay in a smaller area. But with the berries . . .”
He couldn’t see any wounds, but a bear didn’t have to be wounded to protect her young. He tightened his grip around Jess.
She didn’t fight him, fitting, of course, perfectly into the curve of his embrace.
“What are we going to do?” Jess said, turning her face to his, only inches away.
He tamped down the urge to simply get up, run down the trail. That would only alert the bear, and while he’d gone to state on his high school sprinting team, he couldn’t outrun a grizzly.
And he wasn’t leaving Jess.
The other urge he couldn’t do anything about, either. The one that had him wanting to capitalize on this crazy, unforeseen moment where he had her in his arms.
Pete swallowed and closed his eyes before she saw exactly that thought in them.
“We stay here and wait her out,” he said, the sweat on his forehead starting to cool, run a chilly finger down his spine.
Talk about needing rescue.