Page 74 of Nothing But Air

But they could have that conversation later.

She glanced at Xander. “Be careful. You know how to drop cams?”

He offered a quick nod and moved to the crack system Teague had preferred—the route that looked clean and solid in the bright sunlight.

And Xander made it up with no problems.

His movements were smooth and confident. Each cam slotted perfectly into solid stone.

The crack had been fine. Teague’s instincts had been right.

And she’d been convinced that she knew better.

Eden pulled out the first aid kit. The nylon was hot from the sun. She wet a gauze pad with lukewarm water and moved to Teague’s side.

Marcus had turned away, his face green.

“Xander to save the day. Think we should start calling him Captain America?” Teague’s voice was strained but held a hint of humor.

“Not if you want to stay on his good side.” Eden dabbed at his elbow, watching him draw a slow breath as she cleaned away dirt and limestone dust. This close, she could smell sweat and copper. Could see his jaw clench with each touch.

“I’m sorry.” The words barely made it past her throat. “Teague, I’m so sorry. The crack would have been?—”

“Don’t.” His voice was rough. “You made the best call you could. Rock fails sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

But it was.

They both knew it.

She wrapped his elbow with gauze, fingers working automatically. The white bandage looked stark against his tanned skin.

An eagle screamed out from somewhere above, its harsh cry bouncing off the canyon walls.

“Nothing up here.” Xander’s voice drifted down twenty minutes later. “Cave only goes about ten feet in. Checked every corner—much to a few vultures’ dismay.” A pause. “Just glad there weren’t eggs. Mama vultures are mean.”

Empty. After all that.

Eden turned to Xander. “You go down to the last landing first, then lower Marcus. I’ll team belay with Teague. When we’re all there, same thing to the next point until we hit the canyon floor.”

Teague stood and brushed off his pants. His movements were careful. Controlled. “I’m sure I can manage. I’ll be bruised, but nothing’s broken.”

“Pretty sure or actually sure?”

“Eighty percent.” He tried a smile. It didn’t quite land. “Maybe seventy-five.”

Eden’s hands moved through the rappel setup—feeding rope, checking the system—but her mind was elsewhere.

He’d listened to her.

Had trusted her. Had gone against his instinct because he was trying to be different. Trying to lead without bulldozing.

The irony.

She helped Teague clip into the rappel, her fingers brushing his as she checked his ATC. His skin was clammy. Up close, she could see pain pulling at the corners of his eyes.

He met her gaze. Held it. Said nothing.

The descent was agonizing.