He knew her answer before she opened her mouth. It would have been easier to go along with what she said. Under any other circumstance he would, but he could see the pain etching lines around her eyes. This time was different. She needed his help and there was no way he was going to leave her at the top of the rock face to deal with the gear and everything else by herself.
“I don’t have time to argue with you about this,” she snapped, raising her voice above the pounding of the rain.
“So don’t.” He kept his tone calm, completely at odds from what he actually felt. “I mean it. I’m not giving in. You’re hurt. You can barely stand and the rock is wet. It’s bound to be slick. Let me help you.”
He expected another argument. In the short time he’d known her, he’d realized she rarely—if ever—backed down. From anything.
Lightning crashed next to them, and he saw her jump. He sucked in a breath of burnt ozone. If there was anywhere for them to get out of the storm, they’d be better off sheltering in place than trying to rappel. But they were completely exposed on the ridgeline, and they had been for the last hour of hiking. Down was the safest choice.
“Together. We’ll go together,” she said, but he could tell the compromise cost her.
He nodded and took the rope, following her instructions and sliding it through the bolt at the top of the pitch. The rain made his fingers clumsy and made it hard to work the rope through the figure eight and clip it to his belt, but he finally managed it. He stayed right beside her, not touching her so he didn’t piss her off more than necessary but close enough to help if she had trouble.
Forcing himself to be careful and go slow so he didn’t lose his footing, he started over the edge. The slope was gradual, similar in pitch to Stone Mountain. If it weren’t for the rain, it might even be fun, but the water running over the rock face made each step treacherous. He’d breathe a lot easier when they were on solid ground. Amanda inched down the slope beside him and he could see determination mixed with the pain on her beautiful face. And anger. When they got to the bottom, he expected to hear about it, but by then they’d be safely on the ground again.
Lightning zinged and cracked, striking the ridgeline above them. Right where they’d been standing. He didn’t need to look at Amanda to know she saw it too. If they’d argued a few minutes longer or taken turns belaying, one of them would have been hit.
Counting so he didn’t let the lightning make him careless, he let out his rope and walked his way down the slope. He and Amanda kept pace with each other and after a few more nerve-racking moments, they were safely on the ground.
MICHAEL PULLED THE TARP AS tight as he could over their makeshift shelter and crawled inside with Amanda. She sat with her back against the rock and her injured foot stretched out in front of her. And she wore the same sheepish expression his sisters had when they’d made a mistake and didn’t want to admit it.
He wasn’t about to back down—not when he’d been right. It wasn’t his nature to step back from a challenge, but he could take a break. Give her a chance to come around without rubbing it in. He rooted through their packs for something they could eat without having to heat water. Even if the rain stopped and he somehow managed to find something dry, with his already challenged fire building skills there was no way he’d get a fire going. They’d been lucky to find the rock overhang wedged in among the boulders or they’d have been stuck sleeping in the rain. As it was, dry space was at a premium and their emotions piled on from the stress of the past couple of hours were taking up a fair bit of it.
He found the last of the jerky and a couple of protein bars. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but they wouldn’t starve. Careful not to get the still remarkably dry sleeping bags wet, he pulled them out of the packs. Determined to give Amanda the space she needed to come around and admit he was right, he set about making their cramped quarters as comfortable as possible. In a few minutes, he had something he could at least call dinner and he’d built a passable nest. His plan seemed perfectly sound until she started to take off her boot and hissed in pain. He dropped the bundle he’d been about to open from the last cache and was at her side before she finished with her laces.
“Here, let me.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He gently lifted her injured ankle onto his lap and finished loosening the laces. He could tell by her expression she was ready to fight him again, but as he started to ease the boot from her swollen foot, she grabbed onto him instead, her fingers digging into his forearms.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he said, wincing as he tugged gently at the wet boot. There was no way to do it without hurting her. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
He met her gaze and she gave him a tenuous smile. He’d count it as progress if he wasn’t so torn up about causing her pain. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he pulled the boot free. Her fingers dug deeper into his skin—he’d have bruises—but she didn’t make a sound. He didn’t think he could take it if she cried.
Amanda leaned forward, watching as he stripped the wet sock from her foot, revealing her swollen ankle beneath. The skin had already started to turn a dull purple and her ankle was much more swollen than it had been the first time she injured it.
“You were right,” she said, and he froze, still holding the wet sock in his hand.
He nodded, waiting to see if she’d add anything. He was pretty sure agreeing with her this time wouldn’t get him where he wanted to be. The silence stretched between them long enough he wondered if she’d say more.
“I have a hard time accepting help,” she said as he cradled her injured ankle in his lap. They didn’t have the ice they needed to help keep the swelling down so there really wasn’t anything he could do. It didn’t stop him from needing to touch her even if it was more for his comfort than hers.
“I figured that out the first time we met.” He caught her gaze and watched her expression shift to something a lot stonier than he’d hoped for.
“I didn’t need help the first time we met.”
Well, hell, there was a hornets’ nest he hadn’t intended to open.
“I know. You had everything under control. You didn’t need me.” He meant to leave it there, but then he remembered holding her under the stars, making love with her. Because that’s what it was—making love. What he felt for her was so much more than something physical, even if the physical part of it blew him away. He wanted more. He wanted a future with Amanda and that meant he wanted to understand her. “Would it be so bad if you had? What’s wrong with needing me?”
He rocked back on his heels, waiting. She couldn’t hide anything. Expressions moved across her face like a series of snapshots into her thoughts. He loved that when she met him, it was without artifice. He didn’t pretend with her and he didn’t want her to pretend with him. Her brow creased and he reached out to run his thumb over the wrinkle, smoothing it.
“It’s not you. I think I could get used to needing you.”
He schooled his expression at the rush of warmth her words sent through him. He could see her wrestling with her thoughts. Giving her space to draw her own conclusions, he gently placed her foot on the wadded-up sleeping bag and reached for their pathetic dinner. He unwrapped one of the protein bars and handed it to her.She didn’t eat enough.
“I don’t know. I think I’ve gotten used to being second-guessed.” She didn’t say by Ethan, but she didn’t need to. He knew who she meant. “It’s a bad habit. One I’d like to get rid of.”
“I know there are things you’re better at than I am. A lot of things,” he said and she laughed. “I’m serious, baby. I’m man enough to admit you can do things I can’t. More than man enough.” He winked at her, and she shook her head.
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
