Page 73 of Nothing But Air

“Can you climb?” Her voice cracked. “Or do we need to lower you?”

“I can—” Teague sucked in a breath that hitched halfway through. “I can make it to your anchor. Just. Slowly.”

Eden watched him start moving. Each placement of hand and foot was deliberate. Painful. He favored his right side. His breathing came shallow and quick.

Sweat darkened his shirt in spreading patches, mixing with limestone dust and blood.

The sun beat down. A bead of sweat ran into Eden’s eye, stinging, but she didn’t blink. Didn’t look away from Teague’s agonizing progress.

Below them, the creek continued its mindless babbling.

Why had she ever agreed to this?

She had quit for a reason. Losing Landon had changed something in her. Something fundamental.

This proved that.

Teague shouldn’t have listened to her. The old Teague would have been up the other route without asking for input.

Why had he listened?

Teague reached the ledge.

Eden grabbed his harness, helping him clip into the anchor with trembling hands. Up close, the damage was worse than she’d thought. The gouge in his elbow was deep—skin torn away, raw flesh beneath. Scrapes carved angry red lines across his forearms. A nasty one on his calf.

And the way he held himself, twisted, protecting his right side…

His face was pale under the tan and dust. Jaw tight. Green eyes clouded.

“Let me see.” She reached for his shirt.

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a question.” She lifted the fabric away, revealing a spreading bruise along his ribs—already darkening to purple.

Eden’s chest constricted.

“You need to get off this wall.” Her voice came out harder than she intended. “We’re aborting. Getting you down and back to base camp.”

“We’re almost to the cave?—”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off. “You’re hurt. This route is compromised. We’re done.”

Teague opened his mouth. Then he seemed to see something in her face. He closed it again. Nodded. Just that small tilt of his head.

And something cracked in Eden’s chest.

That nod. So similar to the one she’d given him last night.

“I can go up the crack. Give it a once-over.” Xander’s voice drifted up from below. Eden was ready to shut that down, but he held up a hand. “It’ll give Teague a minute to catch his breath before we head down. Besides”—a wry grin—“someone should make sure there’s no treasure up there worth dying for.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

One look at Teague—resting against the warm stone, eyes closed against the pain—and she knew he needed more than a minute.

His gaze found hers. Waiting.

Why was it her call? She’d just nearly gotten him killed.