CHAPTER SEVEN
J ENNY SHOULD HAVE LOOKED BACK. Should have checked on Aria, in the anchor position on the line, picking her way through the route she’d cut.
Shouldn’t have assumed that just because Jenny had trodden that route that Sasha and Aria were safe.
She’d been caught by the brilliance of the Muldrow Glacier flowing out before her, bathed in an eerie, deep blush, the low-hanging clouds gathered above almost bruised, in shades of lavender and rose. They might not have a tent, but she’d already worked out how to build a cave, and next on her list was melting snow for water.
Always looking ahead.
Which was why she didn’t see Aria fall, just heard the scream, then Sasha leaping on her already planted ice axe—good girl. Jenny hit her knees, dug in her crampons, and fell on her axe.
Aria reaching the end of her rope had yanked Jenny backward and she knew the force must have also ripped Sasha from her hold. She glanced over her shoulder and Sasha was digging in again, dangerously close to the edge of the crevasse.
Jenny hunkered down and held her breath, her body shaking. Please.
The line stopped moving.
“Sash!”
“I got her!” Sasha said. She hadn’t gotten worse as they trekked down the glacier, but given the way she’d struggled to keep anything down, she had nothing but sheer will holding Aria to the mountain.
“I’m going to put in an anchor!” Jenny said.
“I can’t hold her myself.”
Right. She shoved her axe all the way into the snow, braced herself around it, then clipped her quick clip between the wrist strap and her line. Please—she leaned off the anchor, ready to grab it should it inch out.
It stayed in the snow.
She clipped out of the line, leaving it attached to the axe anchor, dropped her pack, and went to help Sasha. She clipped Sasha’s quick-clip line to her ice axe strap. “Stay there, I’m going to check on Aria.”
She walked over to the edge. Leaned over.
Aria hung over a drop of two hundred feet, maybe five feet wide, but brutal with its icy blue depths. This time, the pack hadn’t ripped her upside down, but it hung from her shoulders and hips as she lay horizontal.
“You okay?”
“Just hanging out.”
“That’s not funny.” She didn’t know how Aria did that—figured out how to lean into the chaos of life without panicking. She seemed to thrive on challenges, from her medical prowess to the adventures that added an edge to life.
Or maybe that was only her living to the beat of her sister’s heart in her chest.
Whatever it was, it made Aria the perfect climbing partner.
“Good. Then pull yourself up, and anchor yourself into the wall.”
“I’ll try.”
“Then release your pack and let it hang from the pony leash.”
She returned to Sasha, swallowing back the acid in her chest. How had she let this happen twice?
Sasha was groaning. “I don’t feel well.”
The sudden rush of adrenaline hadn’t helped her AMS. Jenny knelt next to her. “Okay, let’s build an anchor—”
A scream echoed from the crevasse and a shock rattled through the line. It ripped Sasha’s anchored axe from the snow, dragging it over.
“No!” Jenny leaped on the axe, on Sasha, now being raked through the snow.
She’d forgotten to unhook Sasha from the line. She grabbed the axe, pinioning her feet in hard next to Sasha, fighting the pull of the axe.
“What happened to the other anchor?” Sasha said, breathing hard.
She searched for it. The jerk on the line, and their scramble, had ripped Jenny’s axe free.
“Aria!”
“I dropped the pack! It jerked me out of the wall!”
Right. Jenny couldn’t move, her face in the snow, her feet planted, her hands gripping the axe.
If she moved, Sasha and Aria would go right over the cliff.
But she couldn’t set another anchor without moving.
Next to her, Sasha started to hyperventilate.
“Sash. Can you unclip your rope?”
“Not and hold on to the axe.”
“I got the axe.”
A pause, then, “If it rips out, and you can’t hold it, Aria dies.”
Jenny closed her eyes, her body shaking.
And shaking.
She couldn’t breathe, her throat tightening, her arms burning with the effort of holding in the axe.
They were going to die out here. All of them. Because she wasn’t going to let Aria and Sasha go over the cliff, but yeah, she couldn’t hold the axe.
Not on her own.
“I know!” She pressed her goggles into the snow, gritted her teeth. “I know. I just need a minute to think. To work it out—” She drew in a breath. “Just give me a minute.”
But she didn’t have a minute. Because the longer they hung here, the more the snow would give way, the more the mountain would eat their strength.
And sooner, rather than later, they’d all fall into the crevasse.
Why had she insisted on this stupid trip? We’re stronger than we think we are?
No, no they weren’t. Or she wasn’t.
“We’re going to die out here, aren’t we?”
Oh, Sash. Jenny couldn’t answer her.
“Don’t let go!”
The male voice trumpeted through her.
“We got you—just stay put.”
Then someone stepped over her, his knees on either side of her, his chest against her back, strong arms enveloping her as he pushed his weight onto the axe. “Don’t move. It’s going to be okay.”
She lifted her head and was just barely able to make out the sight of a man, a climber, dressed in a red jacket, black climbing pants, and a snow-crusted hat pounding in her ice axe and taking an arrest position. The pressure on the rope eased.
But the presence above her didn’t move. “Not yet,” he said.
In moments, a man in a blue jacket pounded in two snow pickets. Then he ran webbing through the two pickets, attached a Prusik to their rope line, and clipped the line into the new anchor.
Around her, her rescuer’s coat crinkled, the snow squeaked beneath his legs, and his breath moved in and out against his face mask as he quietly saved their lives.
How—?
“Okay, you can let go.”
She eased up on her hold just as he too eased up. Leaned back.
The anchors held.
She reached over and unclipped Sasha from the line.
Sasha rolled over on her back, breathing hard.
Jenny wanted to cry. Instead, she turned and found a mittened hand outstretched to help her up.
She took it and stood up.
Her hero wore an orange jacket, goggles, and a lime-green wool hat. His face mask was crusted with snow, his dark goggles pulled down to protect his eyes.
“We’ll haul you up!” Beside her, the man in blue was setting another anchor and clipping himself in. The man in the red jacket joined him, also hooking in.
They added an ascender to the line to use as a hauling tool, then together they began to drag Aria to the lip.
Jenny leaned over the cliff and spotted Aria walking up the edge, her crampons digging in to keep her from being crushed by the lip.
They pulled her up and over the edge.
Aria dropped to her hands and knees, breathing hard. One of her rescuers leaned over and pulled up her pack, still attached to the leash.
Then they both backed away from the edge.
Jenny wanted to collapse, painfully near tears. Aria sat back, her hands shaking.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Except, I think I’m going to throw up.”
Jenny too. She leaned over, grabbing her knees, just trying not to hyperventilate.
It’s going to be okay.
She leaned into the voice, let it find her bones, soothe her.
“Thank you,” she said softly and turned to look at her rescuer.
The man in orange had crouched in front of her, staring at her, concern in his eyes gleaming through the dark frame of his goggles.
She knew those eyes . . . oh . . .
“Where did you guys come from?” Sasha said.
“The top of the mountain,” said the one with the blue jacket, gray snowpants. “We saw smoke.”
“The tent,” Aria said. “It caught fire.”
But Jenny couldn’t take her eyes off . . . “Ry?”
He smiled.
The jig was up. She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth, to yank the name back, but it was out there, forced free by relief and not a small amount of shock.
He took off his goggles and unleashed the full power of his gaze, and suddenly, her throat thickened, heat filling her entire chest.
She saw it all, right there in his gaze. Their past, the grief she’d caused him, even that way he had of calming her entire world.
And behind it all, the burning fire that was Orion Starr.
“Hey there, Jacie.”
She didn’t know what to do with the crazy flux of emotions—run, cry, throw her arms around him—so she just sat there, as if frozen, as he said, “It looks like I found you.”
She’d just stared at him.
Clearly Orion had made much, much more out of their epic-in-his-head relationship three years ago than she had because the woman just blinked. Nodded. Emitted a soft, “Thank you.”
Okay, so not the dramatic meeting he’d pictured as he’d glissaded down the glacier.
In fact, if he read her right, he hadn’t meant anything to Jenny—J. C.—Calhoun.
But, she did know him, hello, because he hadn’t dreamed up her utterance of his name. “Ry?” Nor the little catch of her breath.
Yeah, honey, it’s me.
Although maybe that catch had been the wind because she said nothing, just crawled over to Aria.
Which left him baffled, and not a little irked.
He probably needed to let it go, stop letting the fact she seemed unfazed by their unlikely reunion eat into him as he built a wind wall around the two tents they’d erected. Good thing Jake had added the cook tent into their supplies because the women could take shelter inside.
After a dinner of Spam and noodles.
Yum.
The tents blew against the wind, which was starting to pick up as the night settled in around them. Not dark enough for him to need a light, but the mountain did shed long shadows into their enclave. And, if he judged the temperature correctly, it might have dropped another ten degrees.
He barely felt it. Fact was, he might still be running on pure adrenaline, ignited the moment he’d spotted the burned shell of their tent. Even Jake looked a little sick, dropping to his knees to fish through the remains.
An overturned, blackened pot, and a metal water canister.
But no sleeping bag, no packs, so at least the ladies had their gear. They’d left tracks traversing the glacier and down through the icefall, which meant no one was seriously injured.
The scream , however . . .
It had sent a fire through him and he’d practically abandoned his better sense as he took off in a run, nearly dragging Jake and Ham with him through the glacier rubble. He’d spotted the team from a distance by their red and yellow jackets as they scrabbled against the face of the ice to save their friend.
He’d nearly been too late. He’d seen Jenny digging in, trying to keep her friend from plunging to her death, and did the only thing he could think of.
He’d leaped on top of her. Full force, his body pinning her down.
Then held her in his embrace as he kept the axe anchor from moving.
“It’s going to be okay.”
So maybe he’d been a little presumptuous there. He’d reverted to his PJ days, arriving like the hero on the scene.
However, maybe they would be okay, because after they’d shaken off the near fall, they’d managed to climb down below the second icefall without incident. Jake had carried Aria’s pack after he noticed she was limping. They roped Aria between Jake and Ham, while he roped in front of Sasha, Jenny at the back.
He’d been down this route only a couple times, but he remembered a place to camp, just before Karstens Ridge.
Now, the women were huddled in their tent warming up, and according to Ham, who’d checked on them, assessing Sasha’s AMS.
Orion didn’t want to think about what might have happened to them if he hadn’t seen that smoke. Hadn’t listened to his gut.
Ham’s words had been hanging around in his head.
“Every time I pray, it’s like God is saying he’ll help us find them.”
Maybe. Or maybe they just got lucky.
He placed another brick on the wall that circled their tent camp. Jake was cooking outside, in the enclave kitchen he’d built. Now, Orion planted the shovel and came over to the pot. Tiny diced Spam chunks rose to the surface of what should have been chicken soup.
“I have a treat for you tonight, Ry-man,” Jake said.
“Someday I think we can be friends, Silver, but only if you stop serving me Spam.”
Jake grinned from beneath a two-day growth of golden-blond whiskers. “Someday you’re going to thank me for Spam.”
Ham was in the tent when Orion retrieved his sleeping bag from his pack and tossed it in. He sat in his overpants and fleece, wore his polar socks. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of Kit, but the mountain seems to be cutting us off.”
“I’m not surprised. Try it tomorrow, when we’re on Karstens Ridge.”
Ham put down the radio. “So that’s the plan? Hike down the ridge and out through Muldrow Glacier?”
“I don’t see another way.”
“Did you take a look at Aria’s ankle? She says it isn’t broken but I’m not sure. And Sasha still hasn’t kept anything down. It won’t be long before she’s dizzy, and that’s a bad recipe for Karstens. It’s knife sharp, a thousand feet down on either side . . . I don’t know, Ry.”
Orion blew out a breath. “I suppose we could hunker down here and try and pull them off the mountain by chopper.”
“If we can get ahold of camp.”
Orion sighed. “At least we found them.”
“So, that is Jacie, right?”
“Yeah.”
“From Afghanistan. The reporter. Who played basketball. What happened between you two?”
“Nothing. We just . . . we were friends.”
“Not even. You talked about her when we were trapped in the cave, if I remember correctly.”
He’d said a lot of stupid things in that cave. Even a prayer.
He hoped Ham didn’t remember that.
“Maybe that’s why God was calling you to the mountain. Because you and Jacie aren’t done yet.”
Orion stared at him. “You know, God isn’t in charge of everything that happens.”
“Uh, yes he is.”
Orion sighed. “And now you’re only making me mad again.”
Ham frowned.
“Really? Should we talk about Nickles and Dirk? Thorne and Royal? How about your man McCord? Or you—you lost your career. If God was in charge of all that, then maybe I’m angry at the wrong people.”
“See, that’s the thing. We get angry with God when he doesn’t do things our way. But I know God had a new season for me.”
“Says the man who spent twelve years on the Teams, who was headed for Master Chief.”
Ham reached for his hat. “It’s all about your perspective. I can choose to be angry about the way the Navy treated me, or I can see it all from a bigger place. It’s like this mountain. We’re down here, on the face. We can’t see the routes, the crevasses, even the avalanches that might take us out. But God can, and we can trust him.”
“Like the CIA trusted the informant who blew our lives up?”
“Not even close.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the deal. I’ll be willing to trust God if he sends me answers. If he lets me find Royal. And if he brings a little justice to the men who killed my brothers. When he does that, then we’ll talk about trusting God.” He made for the door.
“That’s not what you prayed in the cave.”
He stilled, turned back to Ham. Frowned.
“‘God, please help us find a way out.’”
“I was pretty focused on the moment.”
“And so is God. But he also sees the big picture. That’s why we have to live by faith, not just by sight. Because he is always working on our behalf, in the moment, even if we can’t see it.”
“Yeah, like I really needed a new knee. So glad God took care of that for me.”
Ham’s mouth tightened. “I took my troubles to the Lord, I cried out to him and he answered my prayer.”
“I couldn’t walk!”
“And now you can.”
Orion shook his head.
“I’m just saying that God is on our side. And we can trust him for the big—and small—details.”
“Okay, great. Maybe God could help me figure out why it bugs me so much that Jenny Calhoun didn’t remember me.”
“Oh, she remembered you. The bigger question is, why did she deny it?”
Ham’s question brought Orion up. He stared at him.
Unzipped the tent.
Jake stood at the stove, ladling out the soup into sierra cups. He took two and went over to the ladies’ tent. Unzipped it and climbed inside.
Orion stood there, not sure what to do. The smell of the soup—rehydrated peas, carrots, chicken broth, and of course Spam—stirred the air. His stomach clenched with hunger.
Until the ladies’ tent unzipped.
Jenny crawled out. For a moment, she just stood there, dressed in her jacket, a wool hat, her blonde hair loose, wearing her overpants and down booties. She stuck her hands into her pockets, bit her bottom lip.
“Hi,” he said, feeling stupid.
And then, yes, a little angry. Because of course she recognized him in Copper Mountain. He hadn’t grown his hair out, turned into someone completely other than who he’d been three years ago.
“Hi,” she said, shuffling over.
“Want some soup?” he said, trying to unlatch the other words from where they felt gummed up inside. Why did you lie?
She came closer. “What is that floating on top?”
“Spam. I apologize.”
She looked at him. “At least it’s not C-rations. It could be ham and lima bean stroganoff.”
So she was going there.
Okay. He nodded. “And how about cold spaghetti mush?”
“See, this is practically gourmet.” She reached for a sierra cup and he poured some soup into it. She took a spork from her pocket. “Thanks.” She walked over to the edge of their tent area and sat down in the snow, staring out at the mountainscape.
Not a terrible dinner view. He helped himself to soup and walked over to her. “So . . . can we talk?”
She nodded.
He sat down.
They ate in silence for a moment while he gathered his words.
Her too, because—
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t know you back in Copper Mountain.” She held up her cup and drank out of it.
Yes. Yes. He knew it, but probably a fist pump wasn’t appropriate so he just nodded.
“Why did you act like you didn’t recognize me?”
“I . . . I guess I thought maybe that was then, and this is now.” Her mouth tightened around the edges.
Now. As in, not Afghanistan. Not the war. “You know I was shot, right?”
She nodded.
“I thought you might—well, call it crazy, but I thought you might be in Germany when I woke up.”
And he looked away, wincing that he’d let himself admit that.
“I . . . yeah. I’m sorry, I was . . .” She shook her head.
And it was the expression on her face that sent a fist into his chest. Embarrassment.
Oh. He must be some kind of self-absorbed fool to believe that he’d meant to her what she’d meant to him. That she’d spent the past three years pining for him. Waiting for him to show up and find her.
Wow, Orion, get a grip.
“Wounded.”
Her word brought him up, stilled him. “What? How? Were you shot?” He set down his bowl, now empty.
“No. Nothing like that. I . . .” She blew out a breath. “I . . . I had a nervous breakdown.”
He had nothing. Living on an active base, surrounded by the threat of Taliban invasion—it had to be stressful. He’d always wondered why the AP had embedded her with his group.
But a nervous breakdown ?
“I heard about what happened to your team, to the SEALs and . . . anyway, I wasn’t in a good place for a while. They sent me to a hospital in Seattle. That’s where I climbed my first mountain—Rainier. Part of my rehabilitation.”
“I’m sorry.” Except, how had she heard about the ambush on the mountain? He thought that was classified. Only how could it be when she lived and worked on the FOB? Probably word had filtered through the base. She probably didn’t know details, but certainly the media would have been briefed.
She looked at him, then at his leg. “Your knee, right?”
“I had a knee replacement.”
“I’m sorry.”
“At least I lived. We lost—”
“Two PJs and four SEALs.”
He nodded. “Two SEALs. Two were captured.”
Her mouth made a tight line. “Yes, right.”
The wind kicked up snow, dusted it across their feet.
“I thought of you.” He didn’t know why he said that.
She looked over at him. Swallowed. “I thought of you too.” A smile tugged up her mouth. “You found me.”
“You sent up a smoke signal.”
Her mouth opened.
Then, she laughed. Full and robust and it filled his bones, chasing away the last remnant of ire. “I did—I mean, I didn’t—that was Aria and Sash, but—” She looked at him, and it wasn’t the first time he wanted to fall into her beautiful blue eyes, but right here, right now, brought back that last night. The smell of her as he drew her close. The feel of her hair between his fingers.
“What are you doing here?” he said softly.
“I fell off Denali Pass in a high wind. Got caught on a glacier. Nearly died and this guy showed up like he might be a hero or something.”
He cocked his head. “Yeah, but what are you doing here ? Again. In my radar?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Well. This other guy I knew talked about Denali. And how it had the most amazing views.”
“Amazing views,” he said softly, unable to stop himself.
She smiled, looked away. “Okay, PJ, stop. Let’s talk about how we’re going to get off this mountain.”
He was about to point out Karstens Peak when the tent behind them unzipped.
Jake stuck his head out. “Ry. Get in here. We have a problem. I think Sasha is in trouble.”
Orion scooped up his sierra cup, then grabbed Jenny’s and headed back to camp. The stove was off and Ham was pouring soup into insulated bottles for him and Jake. He took the cups from Orion, and he headed to the tent.
Jenny was already inside.
Sasha was sitting up, but her face and hands looked swollen. She was trying to shed her clothing.
“You need to leave that on,” Jenny said as Aria held her hands.
“I’m hot—”
“It’s thirty below, Sash,” Aria said. “Try and eat something.”
Her bowl sat untouched.
Orion picked it up and moved it away. “How’s her breathing?” He moved over to her, pulled off his gloves, and pressed his fingers against her carotid artery. “Her heartbeat is rapid. And her skin is pretty pale.”
He looked at Jake. “I think we need to consider leaving her here and hiking down. I don’t have any dex, or we could give that to her.”
Sasha leaned over, coughing.
Jenny looked stricken as she cast her gaze to Orion.
Okay, that was it. “I’m staying here tonight, with Sasha.”
“Me too,” Jenny said.
“I’m the doctor here,” Aria said.
“And I’ve spent more time on the mountain than all of you combined,” Orion said. “I’ve seen AMS more times than you want to know.”
Aria’s mouth tightened into a thin line.
“Be honest, Aria. You’re not in much better shape. You took a wicked fall today.”
“And two days ago,” Jenny said. “She’s injured. She just won’t admit it.”
“Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”
“Just out of the tent,” Jenny said. “You need a good night’s sleep. Go into the other tent, with Ham and Jake.”
She looked at Jenny as if she’d asked her to run naked through camp.
Jake looked away, as if embarrassed.
“Aria. This isn’t church camp. We’re all grown-ups here,” Jenny said. “Go—get some rest.”
“No,” Jake said. “Listen, don’t make her do something that makes her feel uncomfortable—”
“We’re camped on the side of a mountain, for Pete’s sake!” Jenny said. “We’re all uncomfortable.”
“Still,” Orion said. “He’s right—”
“It’s no big deal,” Aria said. “And yes, Jenny’s right. It’s just . . . I’m the doctor here. I should stay.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Orion said. “But most importantly, you’re injured too. And that leads to its own dangers.”
“We need to get you all down the mountain, alive,” Jake said quietly.
Aria wore a strange expression as she looked at him. Then, “Okay.” She grabbed her sleeping bag and Jake followed her out of the tent, picking up her pack as he went.
Orion turned to Jenny. “We need to heat up some tea, or at least get some warm water in her.”
Jenny nodded. Turned toward the door. Paused. Sighed.
Then she turned back to him and touched his arm. “I’m really glad you found me, PJ.” Then she headed out the door.
Hooah. Now that’s what he was talking about.
He hadn’t been that scared in years. Sure—Jake had experienced worse moments in his life, but watching Aria dangle above a sheer drop while her two friends struggled to keep from sliding into the abyss . . .
Jake still didn’t have an appetite.
He might be getting a little tired of Spam, too, but mostly the raw clench in his gut came from the scream that still echoed deep in the chambers of his mind. Heart. Soul.
Whatever. It embedded there, stirring up a terror he couldn’t shake even hours later.
Seeing Sasha deteriorate with the clear effects of AMS didn’t help either. But mostly, he was worried about Aria.
And her limp.
And the way she eased herself onto the sleeping bag, hiding a grimace, as if she might have broken ribs.
The way she kept clenching her fists and wiggling her fingers, trying to get the blood circulating.
“Okay, that’s it. Make up your mind.”
She looked up at him, frowning.
“First, you drag me up a mountain to rescue you, and now you’re coming up with reasons not to dance with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Dance with you—what—?”
“Let me see that ankle.” Ham had gone outside to help Jenny heat up tea, so Jake sat on his sleeping bag. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m fine. And I don’t want to dance with you again.”
“Sure you do. You’ve been thinking about me since you left the dance floor. Now stop your crybabying and lean back and let me look at your ankle.”
She gave him a look of annoyance.
He matched it, hoping the pulse in his neck didn’t give him away, but he’d met women like her—strong, independent. In fact, he had five sisters she’d get along with very well. But masking her hurt wasn’t going to get them off the mountain in one piece. “Give it up, Grey’s Anatomy, and show me your ankle.”
“Oh brother.” But she leaned back and let him lift her foot to his lap.
No, this wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t get a good look at her leg with her overpants in the way. “Um, let’s take these . . . uh . . .” And this felt weird . . .
“Seriously. Now you get shy?” She pulled off her jacket and wadded it behind her. Then she unhooked her overpants, leaned back, and wiggled them over her hips. She wore a thick pair of fleece leggings under them.
He pulled the overpants off and handed them to her. She wadded those up too, creating a pillow, and lay back. “It’s not broken, it’s just . . . well, take a look.”
He took a breath, not wanting to hurt her. She closed her eyes, her dark hair splayed on the pillow, her hands fisted on her stomach.
“I haven’t been thinking about you, by the way.”
He smiled as he pulled the thick wool sock down her leg. She grimaced, especially as he got to her heel. “Sure you have. You were thinking . . . It would sure be nice if that charming guy I met in Copper Mountain showed up to save my backside from becoming crushed ice—”
“I did not.”
He pulled the sock over her heel.
She made a noise that took out a piece of his soul, then glared at him.
“Sorry.” He swallowed hard. “Okay, so tell me how this all happened. You’re standing at the top of Denali, and suddenly you decide to take the scenic route?” He was probing her foot, running his thumb down the bones of her ankle, watching her face.
Oh, she had a pretty face. Dark eyebrows, a hint of a sunburn on her aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and long, dark lashes.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what we were thinking.” She’d closed her eyes again. “I mean, descending the usual route, down the Denali wall with 50-mph winds? Boring. Let’s take a header down a glacier instead, maybe really get our hearts racing and slide about a hundred feet. And then I decided to add an extra element to the fun and launch myself right off a ledge, hoping my girlfriends could stop me going thirty miles an hour.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t open her eyes, and nodded. “I think we got one of the highest technical scores, but our artistic numbers weren’t great.”
He chuckled, hopefully something light and convincing because her words had grabbed him up and wrapped an icy hand around his heart. He’d known about the avalanche, the fall, but to hear her say it, to know she’d lived it—he couldn’t breathe. “Did you break any ribs?”
He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so concerned and wished he’d said something like, “So, did you crush all your ribs in the fall, or just the two bottom ones?”
Her eyes opened at his tone. “No, Doc. I’m fine.” Her mouth pinched into a dark line. Then she closed her eyes again. “And don’t think I’m falling for your attempt to look up my shirt.”
He wanted to smile. Wow, she was brave. And okay, funny. But yes, he wanted a look at her injuries. Internal bleeding changed the game entirely. “You’re a lousy patient, Grey’s.”
She opened one eye. “Flash me some creds, there, Cowboy, and I’ll be glad to show you some skin.”
“I was a Navy SEAL, does that count?” He didn’t know why he let that emerge, but, okay, maybe he wanted her to admire him a little, too.
It worked. She opened the other eye. “Really?”
He steadied her leg with one hand, and wrapped his other around her foot, ready to move it, to test it. “Mmmhmm. And I was the one with the most medical experience on our team, so—”
“Wait!” She leaned up fast and grabbed his wrist, no kidding in her widened eyes. “That’s enough.”
He cocked his head. “Methinks someone’s been lying about her injury.”
She moved his hand away from her foot. “Not lying. Just . . . okay, listen. I packed it with snow, and the swelling went down. It’s just aggravated from today’s hike is all.” She pulled her foot away. “It just needs ice.”
He studied her, and all his joking died. “How hurt are you?” He reached for her shirt tucked into her fleece pants.
She caught his wrist. She had strong hands, which he’d guessed, but he didn’t expect the way her touch might ignite something under his skin.
“Hold up, there, pal. Not on the first date.”
Now he felt creepy. “Listen. I need to know what we’re dealing with. Are we hiking down tomorrow, or am I going for help?”
She considered him. “Fine. Why aren’t you a SEAL anymore?”
The question knocked him back. “What?”
“Well, it feels like you’re asking to completely invade my privacy, and I don’t get anything back.”
“I’m not—”
“Playing doctor?”
He made a face.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Were you hurt?”
“No . . . I just . . . it was time to be done.”
“How long were you in?”
“Twelve years. I got out a year ago.”
“With what team?”
“Who are you, Katie Couric?”
“You’re not getting a peep until you tell me something personal.”
“Fine. I have five nosy younger sisters. And I know all the games you women play, so if you think you can crack me, welcome to Fort Knox.”
Her mouth made a tight line. “I want a secret.”
“What is this, a stare down?”
“You said you have sisters. Who do you think will win?”
“Listen, sweetheart, I know you’re just trying to delay me discovering the truth.”
She didn’t move.
A secret. “Fine. Okay.” He swallowed. “I might have been thinking about you, too.”
She blinked at him, her mouth opening.
“Of course, I probably wouldn’t have gone to the great lengths of tumbling off a mountain and burning my tent down to get your attention, but some of us are more needy—”
She reached for the hem of her shirt as if to untuck it.
“Now you have my attention.”
She glared at him.
“I’m kidding. Sheesh. I showed you mine. You show me yours.”
“Really? Are we in high school?” But she tugged on her shirt. “Make it snappy. I don’t want to get cold.”
He hid a smile, shaking his head, and lifted her shirt just enough to see her ribs, where the waist belt might have gripped.
A little bruising, but nothing deep red, purple, or black. He turned her, checking her back. No bleeding in her kidneys. He rolled her back to her sleeping bag.
“Satisfied, Hawkeye?”
He looked at her. “ M*A*S*H ?”
“My parents’ favorite show. They watched it on TV Land every night.”
“And who are you, Hot Lips Houlihan?”
“In your wildest dreams.”
And for a second, yes, he had a fleeting thought of what it might be like to shut her up with a kiss, just for a second. To taste the smile that now slid up her face.
“You really have five sisters?”
Normally the question wouldn’t dig in, wouldn’t rake open the wounds, but for some reason, it hit like a gut punch.
His smile faded.
She frowned.
But he couldn’t go there. Not tonight.
Probably not ever, so, “Yeah. Five beautiful, smart, independent, nosy sisters who would think you are pretty brave.”
Her expression turned suddenly stricken. Her breath spiraled out, as if he’d somehow landed a blow, too. “I’m not brave. I was scared to death hanging over that edge today. And if you hadn’t shown up . . .” Her voice shuddered. She looked away.
“Hey.” He found her hand, took it. “But we did show up. And you’re okay. And I’m going to get you down this mountain, even if I have to carry you.”
Her gaze returned to him then, her expression unreadable.
Then her eyes sparked, her expression so warm and real that it reached right in and took ahold of his heart.
Completely erasing the scream inside.
“Good. Because I need a strong man to carry my pack. And I think you’ll do.”