“I never liked getting all of the credit for it. You climbed every inch of that with me. We topped out together.”
Mitch tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiled. “Your … cray… crazy idea. You w-wen… went… first.”
“We were a team. We’ve always been a team.” Then she remembered the question he’d asked himself. “As for why I fell in love with you, that’s easy. You’re incredibly hot. More than that, you stood up for me. When everyone else treated me like ‘the girl who thinks she can climb like a boy,’ you took me seriously. From the moment you told the others to let me take a shot at White Lightning, I knew you believed in me. Plus, you’re a damned good climber—and you fuck like a god.”
If he hadn’t had a headache, she would have suggested they put his God-given talents to use and screw each other to sleep. But she knew he needed rest.
Mitch grinned at that last part, but his grin faded, his expression growing serious. “Why not … Dee …Dean?”
“Why didn’t I hook up with Dean instead?” That was easy. “He wasn’t attracted to me, and I knew you were. He thought of me as a kid. He might have been only six years older than you, but to my teenage self, he seemedold.”
Mitch laughed. “L-luck-y for … me.”
Mitch couldn’t believehow good it felt to see Gridwall, Accardo, and Cook again. They arrived at the house via Las Vegas on Friday afternoon, Gridwall behind the wheel of a rented Lamborghini in lemon yellow.
Like Mitch and Megs, they’d gotten older. Accardo had packed on a few pounds, while Gridwall seemed thinner. Cook, who’d once had a long ponytail, was now bald. Then again, so was Mitch, his hair only stubble, his scar still visible.
“For a man who got his brains bashed out, you look damned good, my friend.” Gridwall drew Mitch into a bear hug. “God, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Good … to see you… Jim.” Mitch had made progress, but speaking was still a challenge for him.
“Where’s your more beautiful half? Megs, honey, there you are. Come give your old Uncle Jim a big hug.”
Megs hugged him, kissed his grizzled cheek. “Good to see you. Thanks for making the trip. Hey, Accardo. Cook, I’m so glad you came. Come inside. I want to introduce you all to someone.”
Kurt and his wife, Jennifer, had arrived about an hour ago. They were spending the weekend in the mountains and would be joining Megs and Mitch and the dirtbags at tonight’s big celebration for Mitch at Knockers.
Kurt stood when they walked into the living room.
Gridwall, Accardo, and Cook gaped at him.
Gridwall held out his hand. “You can only be Dean Calder’s son. I see your daddy on your face.”
Kurt shook his hand. “And you’re Jim Gridwall. This is my wife, Jennifer.”
When the introductions were done, they shared a decade worth of news over a lunch of Vicki’s Chicago-style deep-dish pizza that Megs had ordered from Knockers.
Gridwall had six grandkids that he shared with his ex-wife Elaine and had earned a fortune from the rock climbing gear company he’d founded back in the 1980s. Accardo lived in the suburbs of Chicago and had become an accountant. Cook had gotten into snowboarding and created his own line of snowboards.
It did Mitch good to see his friends so happy on this side of life. “Who … would think… dir…dirt… b-bags would… do … so well.”
Megs offered to give them a tour of The Cave.
“Why do you call it The Cave?” Accardo asked.
Megs grabbed her parka. “It’s basically an old firehouse with a bay for our rescue vehicles. Lots of gear and high ceilings.”
They walked down to Team headquarters to find all of the Team’s members present, gathered, no doubt, to meet some true legends of climbing.
Megs made the introductions. “This is Gabe Rossiter, one of our tenured members. Rossiter, I don’t have to tell you who these guys are.”
Rossiter, who’d kept climbing after losing a leg in a terrible fall, shook their hands, a broad smile on his face. “I’ve watched all of the Lords of Stone videos. I probably have them somewhere.”
Sasha, who had been the most excited about meeting the dirtbags, beamed when Accardo told her they all knew who she was.
“It’s good to know there’s a new generation kicking ass out there,” he said.
The dirtbags all knew about Conrad and his exploits, of course.
