Page 107 of Nothing But Air

Liam who was supposed to be invincible.

Head injury.

Every worst-case scenario from training flashed through Noah’s mind.

“Send the chopper for Meg.” His voice sounded steadier than he expected.

“Copy that. ETA fifteen minutes.”

The line went dead.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Noah grabbed his keys and turned to Nimue. Her eyes were red, tears threatening but not falling. Her jaw clenched tight.

He recognized that look. He’d worn it himself.

“I assume you want to be at the hospital.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Noah looked at Meg. Whatever had passed between them—the hurt, the sharp words—faded to background noise. There would be time to apologize later. Time to drop to one knee and ask her to be his forever.

But right now, Liam needed them.

“Then let’s go.”

Twelve

Teague had crossed a seven-foot gap to save Liam’s life. The distance between him and Eden felt much more impossible to cross.

The sound of rotor blades cut through the black sky, and for one blessed moment, he could focus on something other than the hollow ache in his chest. He was on his feet before the spotlight of the chopper came into view, relief flooding through him so fast his knees nearly buckled. Xander had made good time. Teague feared they wouldn’t make it here until morning.

The helicopter descended into a flat area fifty yards from camp. Two figures jumped out and ran toward them—one in SAR gear, and the other?—

Meg.

Her long brown hair was pulled back tight, and even in dim light, the professional focus in her eyes was unmistakable. She grabbed a medical kit and started toward them.

“Where are the injured?” The SAR team member shouted over the noise.

Teague led them toward the sleeping bags. “Head injury is priority. He’s been in and out for hours.”

Meg dropped beside Liam, hands already moving—checking pupils, palpating the injury site, monitoring his breathing. “Liam, can you hear me? It’s Meg. Open your eyes if you can.”

His eyelids fluttered. Didn’t open.

Meg pulled out a penlight. “Pupils responsive but sluggish. Breathing’s shallow. How long unconscious this time?”

“About twenty minutes.” Eden stepped closer but stumbled. Teague reached for her, but she jerked back from his touch. “I’m fine.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I was just?—”

“Well, don’t.” Then she stepped closer to Meg. “He was awake earlier. Confused. Kept trying to say something but couldn’t finish.”

Meg’s gaze bounced between them. “Any vomiting? Seizures?”

“No.” Teague didn’t even comment on the other question in Meg’s eyes.