Page 141 of Nothing But Air

Because love meant trusting even when the path forward wasn’t clear.

They’d made it.

Together.

Noah drew a steadying breath. They’d made it. Teague and Eden were safe, and Marcus was being loaded onto the SAR helicopter fifty feet down.

The Black Hawk’s rotors beat a steady rhythm against the evening sky, the downdraft kicking up dust and sage across the plateau. The storm was in the far distance, and the military chopper hovered over the canyon where Kyle had been as two members of the tactical team slid down ropes to secure the scene.

Eden sat on a flat rock, cradling her injured wrist while Meg examined the swelling. Teague stood a few feet away favoring his right side, his hair matted with sweat and dust. But his green eyes were bright. Triumphant.

Even now—exhausted, dust streaked, running on nothing but adrenaline—Meg was all doctor. All competence and calm as she tested Eden’s range of motion.

That’s my girl.

Noah pulled Teague aside, far enough that the rotor noise would cover their conversation.

“And the gold?”

“It was there, man.” Wonder crept into Teague’s voice. He pointed to a rock spire about twenty yards across open air, the setting sun turning the rock golden. “Twenty bars. Plus a key Marcus’s grandfather left him. But I gave the key to Marcus.”

“So it’s really over.”

“It’s over.” Teague wrapped him in a quick hug. Then grunted in pain, but he didn’t seem to care.

“We did it.” Noah nodded and stepped back, releasing a deep breath. “I don’t know about you, but I’m done with crazy gunmen for a while.”

Teague wiped the moisture back from his face. “I’m just glad Kyle didn’t have a knife.”

Noah rubbed at his still-tender side where he’d been stabbed a few weeks ago. “Tell me about it.”

He gestured toward the Black Hawk, landing again on the plateau. “Let’s get you two loaded up and back home.”

Teague dropped into step with Eden, and Meg waited for him to catch up. As they all walked toward the chopper, the small box in Noah’s pocket pressed against his leg with every step.

He’d tried a nice dinner. A sunset view on the rim. Everything romantic he could imagine. But life seemed to have other plans. He had just wanted the moment to be perfect. But maybe they didn’t need perfect.

Maybe this—standing on a cliff in the Grand Canyon after surviving a storm and a madman—this was their life. This was who they were.

And he didn’t want to wait another day.

He stopped walking.

Meg took another step before she realized he wasn’t beside her. She turned back, concern flickering across her face. “Noah? Did you pull something?”

“Not exactly.”

The rotor wash whipped around them, tugging at their clothes, pulling strands of her dark hair loose from the tight braid she’d secured it in.

Noah pulled the velvet box from his pocket.

Dropped to one knee on the red stone.

Meg’s blue eyes went wide. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Her hand flew up to cover it.

There it is.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to do this for days.” He had to shout over the rotors, but he didn’t care who heard. Door gunner, pilot, Teague and Eden—let them all witness this. “I wanted to give you a perfect moment, but?—”