Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rain poured in a steady stream—enough that Ford had pulled the hood of his jacket over his baseball cap. The bill kept his face fairly dry, and he was grateful for the waterproof duds. Rivulets formed on the hillside, and mud caked the soles of his boots, adding an inch or two to his height.

Slowed him down some, too.

It also left Nitro struggling and unsure. While the rain wouldn’t erase Mr. Wagner’s scent, it could muddle it by carrying it into formed puddles that confused the dogs. Particularly inexperienced ones.

Pyro will find him. He’s the best of the best.

It’d been a while since Ford had seen his trusty black German shepherd, but he wasn’t worried. Even with the flooding down south, Pyro understood his limits. He’d find the hiker, and if Ford didn’t respond to his barked alert, Pyro would find him and lead him back to Mr. Wagner.

Nitro sniffed the ground and yipped.

“You pick it up again, girl?”

She took a sharp right, one that led them up the side of a hill. Ford scraped off what mud he could on a rock so he could get better traction for the climb.

A howl cut through the air.

Pyro had found Mr. Wagner.

Better yet, Nitro was headed in the right direction.

Ford shined his flashlight around until he spotted Pyro up on an enormous boulder. Nitro scrambled up the rock as well and began howling along.

After slipping and slopping a couple of times, Ford reached the top.

Unfortunately, Pyro and Nitro both had their noses pointed down.

Lashing rain muffled a shout, and Ford glanced over the edge of the boulder, into the crevice. There at the bottom was Mr. Wagner.

Ford introduced himself and asked for a quick recap.

Mr. Wagner had been hiking and wanted to see the view from the top. He’d lost his footing and fell. The narrow, stony outcropping he’d landed on was lucky in a lot of ways. If it hadn’t “caught” him, he would’ve plummeted six or seven stories, and Ford would’ve been retrieving a body instead.

“I’m going to secure a rope,” Ford called to the man. “Do you think you can climb?”

“Not sure. My ankle might be broken. It swelled up enough I had to take off my shoe.”

Shit. The last thing you were supposed to do was remove the shoe—it gave the ankle too much room to swell. “Hold tight. I’ll be down shortly.”

Ford radioed in his location and asked for backup. Then he searched for the best spot to set up a single point anchor.

The nearest pine was dead and thus a no go. After assessing the trunks of the other nearby trees and the length of rope needed, Ford got to work.

A quick water knot, two strands of tight webbing, and he clipped in the carabiner.

With that rig set up, Ford put on his harness, secured everything, and headed to the edge of the rock so he could rappel down. He glanced at the dogs. “Sit. Stay.”

Their furry butts hit the ground, but Pyro whimpered, his attention on the hiker.

“I’m gonna get him. You two stay and wait for backup.” Slowly, Ford hung over the edge. As sure as he was in his anchor, this moment always tested his nerves, an intoxicating mix of trepidation and thrill.

One foot at a time, he began the descent.

Halfway to the outcropping, Ford’s foot slipped out from under him, the moss, rain, and mud caking his boots a dangerous combo.

The rope zinged, and pain shot up his calf. For a breathless beat, he was free-falling, the miles and miles underneath him coming fast.

His harness jerked, and he slammed into the rocky cliffside. Ow.

On autopilot, his feet and fingers searched for and found purchase.

Each thump of his heart was a punishing relief, the beats frenzied but life-affirming.

The clouds parted, revealing a full moon, and the world lightened a shade. Enough to see the distance between him and going splat.

Just like that, his life flashed before his eyes, along with his regrets.

Namely, one.

She had dark hair, brown eyes, and the kind of smile that lit a fire inside him and obliterated his troubles. Violet made him feel strong, assured, and more important than anyone else ever had.

She made him better, not only because he’d worked to rise above his past but because her faith in him made him want to be his best version.

“You okay?” Mr. Wagner asked, their roles momentarily reversed.

“Yeah. Happens all the time in the rain,” Ford answered. The latter was true. The former, a bald-faced lie.

Do you have a sweetheart? Doris’s words echoed through his mind. Someone who makes your life worth that much more?

There’s peace in being fulfilled. In living without regret. And if it’s my time to go, I know my Harold will be waiting for me on the other side.

The past several days had forced a magnifying glass to his life. He’d stubbornly denied what his brain had whispered since Violet walked away from him last Saturday night.

With his adrenaline taking over, his mental shield was down, and he saw his life for what it was.

Incomplete.

At night, as he tossed and turned, he felt around for the woman who should be next to him, only to come up empty. No one called him on his shit. The absence of laughter rang through his house, the silence so loud he could hardly stand it.

Hell, even the dogs noticed the void.

If he plummeted to his death right now, his life wouldn’t be worth anywhere near what it could’ve been with Violet by his side.

For all his talk about adventures, he’d been too scared to take a real risk. Love was the biggest adventure of all, and he’d tucked his tail between his legs and pushed away the woman he’d fallen for.

No one would ever compare; he knew that much. He’d made a horrible, awful decision. Chalk it up to lapse in judgment or good old-fashioned fear—it didn’t matter. What mattered was he loved Violet, and he’d been an idiot to let her go.

I miss her. My life isn’t full. It’s so empty I can hardly stand being around myself.

Ford gripped the rope as resolve seized his body.

He wasn’t going to fall, because as soon as Mr. Wagner was on his way to the hospital, Ford was going to get his own act together and come up with a plan to fix what he’d carelessly broken.

A quick recalibration, and Ford lowered himself onto the outcropping.

After checking Mr. Wagner’s vitals, he assessed the ankle.

Definitely broken, and Ford reached into his bag and fashioned a splint.

Barks shattered the silence, and a couple of minutes after that, two beams of light cut through the dark. Backup had arrived.

Ford patted Mr. Wagner on the shoulder. “Hear that? That means you just have to hang on a little longer. We’ll have you out of here and on your way to the hospital in no time.”

“They’ll call my wife so she’s waiting when we get there, right? I need to see her.”

Ford’s heart expanded, flooding with images of the woman he hankered to see. He cleared his throat and nodded. “She’ll be there.”

Meanwhile, his house would be empty, save dogs who’d be happier to see Violet.

I’m gonna fix it. There’s gotta be a way to fix it.

Fingers crossed he wasn’t too late.