Micah kneels beside me and takes my face in his big hands—lightly so he doesn’t hurt the scratches on my skin. “You’ve got this, baby. Maybe no one else in the world could do it after sliding down a mountain, but you’ve got it.”
My throat hurts. My chest hurts. My head hurts. The world is a shaky, shuddering blur around me.
But I believe him.
I nod mutely and let him help me stand back up.
“Maybe Micah can get in front of you and you can support the rifle on his shoulder. It’s not the safest thing, but at least it will keep the rifle steady for you.”
“Okay, yeah.” I wipe my eyes with my shirtsleeve. “That might work.”
“Just move me however you want me,” Micah says. “You want my front or back?”
“Your back, I think.”
He turns around, and his body is big and solid so it’s easy to lean forward against him instead of holding my weight on my bad ankle.
“But you’re too tall.”
“So I’ll kneel. Or crouch. Move me into whatever position works, and I’ll hold it. I promise.”
Swallowing hard, I push down on his shoulder. He lowers himself until he’s the right height, but his crouched position looks so awkward and unwieldy that I whimper. “This is terrible. Try kneeling. You’ll be steadier that way.”
He does as I say and looks far more stable, but his shoulder height isn’t quite right.
“Oh, here,” Burgundy says, hurrying over with her small pack. She positions it on Micah’s shoulder and then helps me rest the rifle on top of it. “That looks better.”
“Yeah. That’s as good as it’s going to get. Are you okay, Micah?”
“I’m fine. I’ll hold still for you. I promise.”
“But your poor ear. You’ll go deaf.”
“I’m fine, Kat,” he says. “You’re the best shot I’ve ever known. You’re smarter and stronger and more capable than anyone else. I know you’re hurt. I know you’ve been hurt way too many times. But you can still do this. I’ve got you, and you’vegotthis. I promise you do.”
His words wash over me like a blessing, like a drug. With sharp pleasure and deep assurance.
He believes them. He believes all that about me. He’s never tried to control or dominate. He’s never once demanded, in service to his ego, that I be anything less than I am.
He’s never once put himself ahead of me.
Tears blur my eyes briefly, but I blink them away until I can see clearly. I lean slightly to get in the right positionfor the shot. It’s much easier with it supported on Micah and the pack. I line up the rifle.
I’m holding it steady, and Micah is holding me steady.
He always has.
He always will.
“I love you too,” I hear myself saying just before one pickup truck and then the other comes into view around the curve of the road in the distance.
He makes a small sound in his throat but doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
It’s less than a minute later when the first vehicle reaches the right point in the road. I take a deep breath. Settle my mind. And shoot.
The vehicle veers wildly as the tire is blown out.
I shift my aim until I can get the front tire of the second pickup, which is jerking out of the way of the truck in front of it.
