“YES!” They yelled back.
There was scuffling from above, a frantic scrabble, and then a hand—a real, actual hand, caked with mud and blood—poked through the opening. It reached, fumbled, grabbed at the air.
“Grab on!” Harper’s voice commanded, no-nonsense, choked with what might have been tears or just rage at the world.
Cole didn’t need to be told twice.
Cole made sure that Ethan went first as he maneuvered Ethan up toward the breach, ignoring the way his own arms and legs screamed. He practically shoved Ethan through the opening, catching a flash of Ethan’s wild, mud-streaked face as he was dragged up by unseen hands.
Cole pushed himself through the jagged rock and mud, feeling his shirt tear and skin scrape away in raw patches. As he neared the exit, the rush of fresh air beckoned him, but his momentum faltered; he was stuck. The opening had been just wide enough for Ethan, but it was a tight squeeze for Cole’s broad shoulders, the result of years spent building strength on the ranch. Panic began to claw at him as he scratched and clawed, every muscle knotted and burning with effort.
Just when despair threatened to take hold, Harper’s hand reappeared, reaching through the chaos. “Come on, Walker, let’s go!”
Cole seized her hand, gritting his teeth against the pain. He pushed with everything he had while she pulled with equal urgency, the tension nearly yanking his wrist from its socket. He heard a loud pop followed by the sharp sting of skin tearingagainst the unforgiving stone. Then, with one final surge, he burst free into the light.
He tumbled into a heap in the open air and blinding sunlight.
Jack grabbed both Ethan and Cole and pulled them up and into a bear hug that nearly cracked their ribs. Riley joined in and wrapped his arms around them, laughing and crying as tears streamed down his face.
Harper wiped at her eyes, “You stubborn fucks.” She breathed in relief as she joined in on the group hug, squeezing them all as tightly as she could muster.
The storm had passed. The sky above was endless blue and sunny skies. The air was crisp and refreshing. The world looked new, unfamiliar, as if it had been rebuilt from the ground up while they’d been trapped below.
Cole blinked, wiped at his eyes, and realized he was crying, too—silent, hot tears that left his face wet and muddy and raw.
Cole and Ethan stood, side by side, battered but alive. Riley snapped a picture of them, mud-soaked and grinning like idiots, and for once Cole didn’t care. He didn’t care if the whole town or even the whole world saw it. He finally wanted to be seen for who he truly was.
Cole turned to Ethan, their gazes locking for a heartbeat, an unspoken understanding passing between them and then Cole acted on the impulse that had ignited inside of him the instant he laid eyes on Ethan. He pulled him close, wrapped his arms around Ethan and lifted him off the ground and kissed him right there in front of everyone.. This wasn’t a gentle, hidden kiss; it was bold and passionate, a declaration made in the bright daylight, with their friends as witnesses.
When Ethan kissed him back with equal fervor, Cole felt a profound shift within himself—a long-buried piece of his soul that had been shackled since childhood suddenly breaking free.
They stood there, entwined, hands clasped tightly, bodies radiating warmth and connection, until Riley let out a sharp whistle, prompting Jack and Harper to break into laughter.
“About time,” Harper called out, already turning to navigate the muddy slope, her voice commanding. “Let’s get moving. We need to find somewhere to set up camp, rest, and thank our lucky stars.”
Riley and Jack followed her.
Ethan and Cole didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. They followed along, hand in hand, and Cole had the biggest smile on his face, a smile that he couldn’t get rid even if he wanted to, a smile of pure happiness, and for the first time in his life, Cole Walker felt free.
Chapter 21 - Cole
Shelter Grove waited for them—a hollow in the ridgeline, cupped in the arms of battered pines and knuckled stone. They hobbled in like war heroes, mud-caked, half-soaked, clothes torn, hair tangled. Cole led the way, walking Ethan by the hand, and didn’t care who saw.
Their horses stood clustered under a bower of drooping pine, docile and almost smug in the silence after the storm. Every saddle was slick, every lead rope trailing loose. None had bolted, not a one, which was the biggest miracle of the day, next to their own survival.
Cole looked at the horses, at the wet streaks on Ethan’s face. It felt like looking at the world through new eyes—everything so sharp it was almost silly, every detail charged with the thrill of simply being alive.
Harper was first to speak, voice rough but triumphant. “I vote we just crash here tonight.” She dropped her pack at the edge of the clearing and exhaled hard, winded by pain and relief. The bandage on her upper arm was already soaking through with a thin red line, but she moved like it was nothing.
Jack limped as he carried three bedrolls that were slung over his shoulder. “I second the motion,” he said, eyeing the hollow. “This place looks like pure heaven compared to that last mile of hell we just went through.”
Riley, chest rising and falling with exaggerated breaths, staggered to the fire ring and let himself fall onto a log with a melodramatic sigh. “Not a chance any of you are getting me off of this log.” He grinned, but Cole didn’t miss the way his hand pressed under his ribcage.
Ethan’s smile was quieter, reserved, but Cole could see it in his posture, the shoulders that weren’t hunched, the hands that weren’t clenched in his sleeves. Ethan didn’t let go of Cole’s hand, not even when they had to maneuver around rocks and the occasional log. Instead, they moved as one, bumping hips, bumping elbows. Cole liked the way that felt—no, loved it. And he refused to hide it.
Shelter Grove was perfectly protected. The walls of pine and craggy stone funneled the wind over their heads, leaving only a gentle hush at ground level. The forest floor was spongy with years of fallen needles, a cushion that muffled every step. It was easy to imagine nothing bad could ever happen here.
Cole set to work. His hands flew through the routines: unrolling the tarps, staking the corners, trussing the horse lines. He moved with new energy, every muscle a little raw but also electric with joy. He caught himself smiling at nothing, just because the world was still here and so was he.
