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“Good. Now find a foothold. Anything solid. Don’t trust the loose stuff.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Look right. Small ledge, maybe four inches. It’ll hold.”
Her boot found it, and he felt the rope shuddering in his hand.
“Easy now. Take it slow. I’ve got you.”
She found his gaze, and his heart flexed at the show of trust in her eyes.
“When I say go, you push off that foothold and let the rope do the rest. Don’t fight me, don’t try to climb it yourself. Just push and trust the rope. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“On three. One. Two—”
“Wyatt—”
“Three. Push!”
She shoved off the ledge, and Wyatt hauled hard, rope biting into his palms, every muscle in his back and shoulders screaming with the effort of it. With a low grunt, he pulled her over the ledge, and she collapsed against him, breathing hard.
He checked her over fast, running his hands over her body, searching for broken bones.
In the background, he heard Carson cuss, then Dillard’s howl of pain. “Try that again, and I’ll snap all ten of your goddamn fingers,” Carson growled.
Wyatt returned his attention to the woman in his arms. She only stared at him, face blank.
“Baby.” He shook her lightly. “Are you hurt?”
Her face didn’t give anything away, and he reached for the pack and tore out a thermal blanket. “Fuck. You’re in shock.”
“I don’t think I’m in shock.”
He stared at her, stunned to see something close to humor flickering in her eyes.
“You taught me well.” A short, breathless laugh escaped her. “This is my relieved face now.”
Wyatt let out a laugh, rough and disbelieving, some of the terror of the last hour finally draining out of his chest. He pulled her in tighter, blanket and all, pressing his lips to her temple.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“No promises.” Her voice wavered, humor giving way fast to something rawer underneath it. “Apparently I’m kind of a magnet for danger.”
“Then I guess I’m not going anywhere.” Emotion clogged his throat as he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes. “Somebody’s got to keep pulling you back up.”
She let out a shaky breath and pressed her face into his chest, and for the first time since he put her in a car and watched her drive away from him, he let himself breathe too.
* * * * *
She rode the entire way back to the ranch curled in Wyatt’s lap, and he hadn’t let go of her once—not to shift positions, not to answer the team when they checked in. Not for a single mile of the drive.
She was freezing, shaking hard enough that her teeth clicked together, and he just held her tighter every time it happened, sharing his body heat.
At least this time she wasn’t arriving at the Black Heart Ranch fever-hazed and half-conscious. She was cold and shaken but fully present for every mile of the trip, watching the terrain shift from mountain to foothill to the familiar gates of the ranch, and her chest loosened a little more with each landmark she recognized.
Wyatt didn’t speak, only made soothing noises whenever she trembled. His silence made her wonder if he wasn’t holding back some version of fear or fury he didn’t want her to see yet, saved for later when she wasn’t quite so fragile in his arms.
