Tabitha couldn't keep time—she oscillated in and out of consciousness. It wasn't until she awoke in a hospital bed that she felt aware, leaving the bizarre dream state behind.
A doctor stood near the door to her room talking to someone wearing head-to-toe reflective spandex with an aerodynamic helmet dangling from his finger.
Angus.
"She's got a long and difficult recovery ahead of her. We're talking rest then at least four months of physical therapy. Probably longer."
Four months? At least?
"Damn. She's not going to like that. My sister's not an idle person."
"Well, lucky she has you to ensure she follows my guidance," the doctor continued. "Her surgery is scheduled for the morning. If you need anything in the meantime the nurse's station is right outside the door."
"Thanks, doc."
A moment later, Tabitha and Angus were alone in the room. He glanced over and noticed she'd woken up. He strode over, planted his helmet on the side table, and sank into the chair beside her.
"You're awake," Angus said with a relived sigh. "Do you need anything? Water? The nurse said you can press that button if you're in pain. They hooked you up to the good stuff."
"Water," Tabitha croaked, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. Her brother held the straw to her lips and she pulled a few sips into her mouth.
"Better?"
"Mmm," she affirmed.
"First of all," Angus started softly. "I'm glad you're ok. They called to tell me what happened, and I've never pedaled faster in my life to get back to my car so I could drive here. But also, what the fuck Tabitha?"
Back when she and their parents parted ways, Tabitha had put her brother down as her emergency contact. The swap had been more ceremonial. Not that her brother didn't love her, he just wasn't the most reliable person in a crisis. But having him sitting beside her, worry lining his usually jovial eyes, Tabitha knew.
She wasn't alone.
Even though so many people who claimed to love her had left, her twin wasn't going anywhere.
Chapter thirty-nine
Present day, Leavenworth: Tabitha
Thegranitewascoolto the touch, not yet warmed by the mid-morning sun. A certain ineffable electricity buzzed through her body. A mix of the familiar thrill that she’d nearly forgotten and the more recent anxiety that accompanied her since the accident whenever she considered climbing outdoors. But standing at the base of an enormous crag was a jolting reminder of both sensations.
Soon, I’ll be all the way up there.
Her throat dried as the realization zinged through her limbs to the tips of her toes, which were comfortably tucked into her favorite climbing shoes. It all felt like déjà vu. Like she was replaying a hazy memory while clinging to the familiar feeling more than the activity itself. Despite her reservations, Tabitha felt in her core that it had been too long since her last multi-pitch. She fought to press away the lingering fear and allow a feeling of excitement to jump to the forefront. It was a struggle, because her mind kept returning to the accident three years ago.
To the terrifying fall.
To the shattered femur.
To the six months of grueling physical therapy.
Tabitha looked over at Zac, who seated the rope into his Grigri. The muscles beneath his shirt worked as he positioned the flaked rope just so. God, he had bulked up over the years. He’d aged but only managed to improve. She hadn’t. Despite the regular indoor climbing, she’d allowed herself to soften, and she worried about how that would translate to the wall. Would she be able to complete the multi-pitch? Would they have to abandon the climb and rappel down? Would she fall and hurt herself?
Enough.
She halted the negative self-talk. It would get her nowhere. She had this. And there was no way Zac would drop her. While he hadn’t protected her heart all those years ago, she knew in her soul that he wouldn’t let anything physically harm her. So she took a series of deep breaths and centered herself. Urged her mind to go blank so she could visualize the feat ahead. She looked over her shoulder at Zac.
“Climbing,” she stated loudly.
“Climb on,” was his response.
