Right up until she stepped out of her car at the trailhead, Melody would have said she was ready to hike again. Maybe if she was going with a friend for a picnic, she would be. Being a volunteer victim for Phoenix Rise Search and Rescueâs annual training exercises, however, was overshooting her readiness. She knew that now. She couldnât brush aside her fears when they were staring right at her in the form of a sea of red jackets emblazoned with the SAR companyâs logo.
She stood at the fringes of the volunteer group, too nervous to chatter with the others. They were so much more relaxed than she, for one thing. For another, she didnât want to run the risk of running into anyone who remembered Scott.
Scott.
It had been four years already, and though time had eased the deepest ache, she still couldnât think of him without feeling a pang in her chest. She met him on a hike. He was a friend of her friend, Mistyâs, boyfriend. Reggie and Misty thought the two might hit it off. Their hike turned into a double date that ended with dinner and drinks. When he asked for her number, sheâd given it freely, full of the sort of excitement that only came from new infatuation.
Hiking became a staple date for them, as did dinners afterward or, if it were an early hike, a browse through a farmerâs market to pick up breakfast ingredients. Scott Grainger was the first man sheâd dated who didnât dismiss her fledgling photography business as a hobby she hoped to make money from. She admired his enthusiasm for search and rescue operations. Though he was only a volunteer, heâd been working toward making it a career.
Theyâd been dating for seven months when heâd proposed to her. The next day, heâd gone on a hike and climb with several friendsâŠhis version, he said, of a bachelor party. Sheâd had an outdoor wedding shoot and couldnât join them. Would things have ended any differently if she had?
Melody would never know. Heâd fallen to his death. She still wasnât sure she had all the details. Heâd been surefooted and cautious as a hiker. He didnât mess around or take unnecessary risks. He wasnât into doing dangerous climbs only for the sake of great footage like some of his friends. Scott didnât even own a camera harness. The three guys he was with had spotty information at best. Theyâd reached the challenging part of the climb, harnesses on, and no one had seen the exact moment of the failure. Theyâd heard a cry, and theyâd seen him fall. No one knew exactly how it had happened.
Sheâd never been a mountain climber, but sheâd stopped even hiking for nearly a year. Being anywhere in nature hurt too much. It was the unanswered questions that killed her, the not knowing exactly how it happened. Why it happened. She wasnât afraid to hike. She knew the kind of climbing Scott did was risky. Risks could be managed, but they were still risks. It wasnât fear that kept her off the trails. She didnât want to hike, not without Scott. Misty pressed her, though, and got her hiking again last year for a charity event.
Getting back to it felt like a victory. She remembered why she loved getting outdoors, pushing her body. Hiking with Misty and some other friends brought sunshine back into her life that she hadnât known she was missing.
This felt different. This SAR event feltâŠwrong. Dark. Sad. The weight that had left the center of her chest returned with a vengeance.
âHello?â
Melody blinked and found a young guy in a red jacket before her with a clipboard.
âSorry?â she asked, jolted out of her memories.
âYour name?â
âMelody. Holm.â
âHolm, Holm,â the volunteer said, skimming the page with a pen. âGot it.â He pulled a small plastic storage bag from a pouch at his waist. âHereâs your scenario. If you have questions before starting, flag me down. Otherwise, report to that guy there, the one with the yellow band on his sleeve, and heâll mark you down as starting your hike.â
She nodded. Sheâd been on three similar exercises with Scott. They were mostly the same. You were told where to hike (within a few miles radius) and what characteristics you would play for the volunteers who were searching for you. Sometimes you were just lost. Other times, you pretended to be injured. The scenarios could be quite creative. One woman in a prior group sheâd been out with had been instructed that her character was deaf and was only allowed to respond to visual cues such as beams of light, though if she spotted her rescuers, she was allowed to shout out. The SAR organization didnât make it easy on their staff or their volunteers. The exercise wasnât fun and games. It was serious business, and it was to be âplayedâ as if it were real.
This one was easy, she discovered as she pulled the short slip out of the bag. Her intake form, filled out online a week ago, had listed her occupation as a freelance photographer. Her instructions were to report to the exercise leader for drop off by ATV. Once she was driven out to her starting location, she was to hike between 3 and 5 milesâher choiceâin a northeasterly direction and to drop her camera bag somewhere close to her final location before continuing for at least another several hundred feet. She was to sit down and wait for a rescuer or group of rescuers. If she heard her name, she was to call out in return. She would declare only a sprained ankle.
As scenarios went, hers was simple. Easy. And still the heaviness in her chest remained. Her legs felt a bit rubbery as she walked to the ATV and settled herself behind the driver. Her arms felt heavy as she put on the helmet. Heavier still as she circled his waist for the quick ride to her starting point, the sound of similar vehicles doing the same with other hikers reminding her she would not actually be alone. Not truly. Still her heart hammered and ached. Scott wouldnât be her rescuer this time. Never again.
Why had she agreed to this?
And then the ATV drove off and left her at the starting point, its driver promising her they had her location noted.
âDonât forget me,â she called nervously after him. He held up a hand to show heâd heard her but kept going.
You can do this.
Her feet, however, disagreed. It took several long minutes to convince herself to move. Thankfully, once sheâd been walking for about a half hour, her anxiety began to subside as she grew distracted by the beauty of the area. It was the reason sheâd chosen to pursue photography as a career to begin with. She could lose herself in the smallest details for hours at a time, peering endlessly through the lens until everything looked perfect. Sheâd ease herself back from that little window sometimes hours later, surprised at how the time had passed without her notice.
 By heading northeast on the murky-at-best trail sheâd been hiking, she drew parallel to a ridge. Photo opportunities were abundant along the edge of the ridge. From handsome rock formations to the forested valley below, she lost herself with her camera.  A glint of water even had her hurrying along, nearly forgetting to check her pedometer for how far sheâd gone. Zooming in to get images along what appeared to be a creek or narrow river below, she nearly exhausted her hike parameters.
4.8 miles.
She dropped her camera bag at the base of a tree that stretched out like an ancient yogi over a clearing in the valley below. Though it was officially summer, the north country had gotten unseasonably cool weather and abundant rain all through late May. As a result, even now in late June wildflowers bloomed riotously below, all along the banks of what sheâd decided looked more like a creek than a river.
âGod,â she breathed, creeping forward to peer over the edge, aiming her camera downward. A bit unsteady in the tangle of large roots and needle covered earth at the base of the tree, Melody reached out to regain her footing. Instead, she felt a shifting underfoot. With a cry, she made a frantic grab at the rough trunk, fingertips scraped and burning as she missed and pitched forward.
And went right over the edge into the unknown below.
~~~
There were few things better than a solitary hike through the forest, even if the reason for the hike was a search and rescue training exercise. The smell of pine needles and an approaching storm, the crunch of tree debris and loose pebbles underfoot, the crisp, cool breeze...Parker didnât realize how much heâd missed the actual search and rescue part of his job until he went out on an exercise. Even though his walk wasnât strictly for pleasure, Parker took plenty from it. Getting out of the city was always nice, for one, and getting out of Phoenix in late June was better still, if only for one night.
He wondered again why heâd let himself become a paper pusher, handling more and more of the administrative and fundraising work and less and less of the hands-on stuff. It wasnât entirely by necessity, though that was part of it.
Lexy.
It was Lexy.
Parkerâs mood took a serious dip, the way it did whenever he let himself think about her.
Lexy Ebben. Theyâd met at Mud Run, a muddy obstacle course and run event. Theyâd exchanged friendly barbs and then encouragements as each grew tired toward the end of the event. He found his second wind as Lexy goaded him. The attraction had been instant and hellishly strong on both sides. She was a sporting goods store division manager, working her way up the ladder with an eye for a VP spot. She admired his ambition and the fact that heâd co-owned his own search and rescue support company, Phoenix Rise SARS, from a relatively young age. When his SUV wouldnât start after the race, she offered him use of her bathroom to clean up.
The offer turned into a hot, laughing grope session under the spray of her walk-in shower followed by two days of equally hot, heartily lustful sex in every room of her house. They became one of those couples that made others sick. Embarrassingly brazen PDA and silly nicknames, the whole nine yards. He couldnât get enough of her body, but he also loved her mind. He could talk to her for hours and not run out of things he wanted to know about her: her plans, her dreams, and her view of the world. He proposed right before they hit the one-year mark. Lexy, supremely organized and a ruthless negotiator, planned their wedding with minimal input from him, joking that all he needed to do was show up and be his delicious self. Anyone looking in from the outside would think everything was perfect. Hell, even Parker thought it was perfect.
It wasnât.
Lexy increasingly complained about his work, which took him away at a momentâs notice to find the lost and endangered. Having sex on the fly, every moment expecting his phone to alert with a search mission of some kind, lost its appeal. She began to encourage him to take more of an active role in the office and less of one âscurrying up Piestewa Peak after stupid people.âÂ
Still, she kept planning the wedding. He continued transferring money to her bank account to help fund it. Flowers, venue, invitations, music, catering, all the usual wedding expenses. Her familyâs contributions were minimal. He understood. Her father was undergoing one last desperate round of chemo. The price tag that went with the cancer had effectively destroyed her folksâ savings accounts. Hers was not a large family to begin with. Nor particularly wealthy. Lexy was an only child, as was her father. Her mother had one brother, a guy who could barely rub two nickels together. Parker paid the lionâs share of the wedding expenses, and his beautiful Lexy paid him back with hot sex and shared dreams.
Sheâd been working on a proposal for a line of special SAR products for her company, ever inspired by his rescue stories while at the same time, trying to convince him to retire to the desk life. Something more predictable, more 9 to 5-ish. Not that her own job was predictable. Sheâd hop a plane for the company headquarters on a dayâs notice and be gone for a week, then complain that he wasnât able to meet her plane with less than an hourâs notice.
Six days before the wedding, mere minutes after one of their mini-marathons (Lexy attacking him as he walked in the door, sweaty and tired from a four-hour search for a missing six-year old on South Mountain), she rolled over, sat up, and said,
âI canât keep doing this. You have to make a decision.â
âLex,â he reached for her, still breathing heavily, less than sixty seconds out from orgasm. âIâm working on it.â
He struggled to get his brain cells working again after every ounce of his energy had been spent meeting her passionate pleas for âMore! Harder! Now! Now, baby, now!â How she was even able to hold a conversation was beyond him.
She shook her head, tossing her legs over the side of the bed. âNope. Thatâs not good enough, Parker. Iâm not going to be Mrs. Myers, the woman whoâs always wondering when her husband is going to be home. Iâm not getting into this bed alone night after night while you monkey around on some mountain. I thought we agreed it was time for you to take a more administrative role in the company.â
âWe did. Butââ
âNo. No buts. Unless,â she flashed him one of her impish smiles, the kind that could get him rock hard all over again, âitâs your butt, and Iâm digging my heels into it at a reasonable hour every night after work.â
He fought a grin even as hot needles of irritation poked at him. âLex, weâve been over this. I canât just walk off the job. Weâve got new recruits, but thereâs no one senior enough yet to take over the teams.â
âNope,â she said again, âThatâs not good enough. Youâve had plenty of time. Weâve been talking about this or, rather, fighting about this, for at least three months now.â
âLex,â he said, sitting up, realizing she was serious as she tossed her suitcase on the bed and, in only her thong, began emptying the drawers heâd not so long ago cleaned out specifically for her. âLex, câmon, will you wait a second?â
He tried to pull her away from the task, but the fire in her eyes shocked him. He dropped the hands heâd placed on her shoulders as quickly as if sheâd burned him.
âNo,â she shook her head. âYou had every chance, Parker. Clearly, Iâm not as important as your work, and that doesnât work for me. Iâm not going to marry a man who doesnât put me first.â
Sheâd left him gob smacked and bewildered. How had they gone from explosive sex to her walking out the door in the same evening? What had he missed? Sure, theyâd been fighting about his job for several months. Every couple fought. Every couple had their pain points.
Heâd told his family about it casually, not believing for a second that he couldnât patch things up in time for the rehearsal dinner at his familyâs restaurant, Phoenix Rise Grill, its namesake borrowed for Parkerâs company with his fatherâs blessing. In fact, heâd waited there for her until after closing, alone, the rest of his family shooting loaded, worried glances at him and each other as he shooed them out, insisting sheâd show up if they all left. Sheâs embarrassed, he insisted. She missed the dinner, and now sheâs probably thinking you all hate her. Heâd wanted to punch Greer, his filter-free younger brother, when he retorted,
âWhat makes you think we donât?â
Heâd still been sure sheâd come around, even when his mother and his four sisters showed up on his doorstep the next morning, their wedding day, all but wringing their hands, asking if they should cancel the arrangements, see if anyone would be willing to return the deposits.
âNo. Sheâll be there,â he said firmly. âSheâs got cold feet is all.â
His mother tried tough love. âParker, honey, I donât think this is doing anyone any good. If she was going to marry you, sheâd have returned your calls by now. Do you really want to get left at the altar, son? Is that what you want? In front of everyone?â
Heâd met his motherâs eyes. âOf course not. But thatâs not whatâs going to happen. So, go. Get out of here and over to the church and set up the flowers and decorations like you promised you would. Weâll be there.â
One by one, his brothers also tried to wake him up to the facts, and heâd finally sent a group text that said,
Be there on time, or I will kill you all and enjoy doing it. We. Will. Be. There.
Or he would.
How heâd deluded himself into believing whole-heartedly that Lexy would come around, that she would show up, he still didnât know. It had been two years now, and he half expected her to show up in his shower to pounce on him in that way of hers. Surprise sex was the best kind, sheâd been fond of saying.
Too bad surprising him at the altarâby showing upâhadnât been in her plans.
Heâd lost his mind a little, he knew. He remembered feeling strangely numb while everyone around him fell apart. Not in an obvious way. In fact, he remembered only a similarly strained expression on each face and more of those concerned glances shooting all around the room. He vaguely recalled staring sightlessly toward the double doors that she was supposed to sweep through in the mystery dress he hadnât seenâtradition and allâmaking some kind of threat about everyone showing up at the reception hall for the dinner and dancing and cake that heâd paid for if they knew what was good for them. And then heâd driven up to the family cabin he and his brother, Greer, had put the finishing touches on only a few months before, hoping maybe Lexy had gone there to hide, wanting to make up with him but too ashamed to show her face in front of his family.
But heâd arrived to nothing but a dark, empty cabin where heâd finally been forced to admit to himself that she wasnât going to show up. There would be no late wedding. No idyllic, sex-fueled honeymoon in the mountains. Heâd paced the cabin, room to room and up to the loft and down again. Out to the deck, around the perimeter, back up the deck stairs, back inside on a loop until Greerâs pickup and his second youngest brother, Thatcherâs, Jeep swung into view, their headlights blinding him. His three younger brothersâKearny riding shotgun in the Jeepâeased out of the vehicles and approached him where he stood on the deck as if he were one of the bears that sometimes broke into the seasonal houses in the area. Quietly and with care, as if he might spook and attack at any moment.
He didnât remember much else about the night. Heâd been about four beers in by the time theyâd arrived. He didnât remember much else about the entire week that was supposed to be his honeymoon, actually. He only remembered going back to the SAR offices and pulling himself off of the search end of things, convinced that if he could show Lexy he was doing the 9 to 5 thing like sheâd wanted, sheâd come back to him and theyâd try the whole wedding thing again later.
He couldnât say for sure when heâd stopped expecting her to show up. Somewhere along the way, heâd dipped his toes back into the search end of things. In the meantime, it was two years later. Todayâs exercise was the first refresher training heâd been on in six months.
He shoved thoughts of Lexy aside, turned his focus back on the forest around him. You had to pay attention, look for subtle signs if you wanted to find a missing hiker. How long had he been distracted by the memory of his ex?Â
He stopped, got his bearings.
Not long, he realized, judging by his watch and the GPS. Like with dreams, a whole lot of wild thoughts could be compressed into mere minutes.
As he actively absorbed more of his environment, Parkerâs muscles warmed, losing the knots theyâd worked themselves into moments ago. He focused on the way his body felt, walking briskly though the trees, his breath only slightly labored, his heart rate pleasantly elevated. His calves were only starting to feel challenged by the climb. From time to time, he called out the name of his volunteer victim, Melody, and listened to the forest around him for a response.
Parkerâs renewed enjoyment was not dampened in the least by the fact that he was on alert for footprints, broken branches, or personal items belonging to his fictional lost hiker. His dedication to the search was as strong as if it were real, but it had been a long and challenging day overall for those participating in the exercise. His team, team four, was on the most challenging search, as theirs was the highest skill level group on the outing. Their signs would be the subtlest. Their scenarios would have the most harrowing twists. Whether it was a matter of distanceâhow far the hiker had strayed off the expected pathâor rough terrain, team four typically took the toughest cases.
His long-range radio squawked.
âHey, Myers, you getting anything?â Aaron Quick, one of the four other members of his team, asked impatiently.
Parker stopped, figuring it was time for a quick breather, anyway. âNot a damn thing. You?â
âNope. You suppose Daileyâs messing with us?â
Parker thought of his business partner, Mack Dailey. Though Parker would never suggest that Mack would intentionally put a SAR team in harmâs way or send one on a wild goose chase, he was not above a little temporary misdirection in the name of a challenge. If Mack thought their team, individually or as a whole, was getting lazy or soft, Parker wouldnât put it past him to tell the volunteer victim to throw a wrench in the search.
âI donât know,â he answered, âIâm not ruling anything out.â
âWell, we better find her fast. Stormâs coming, and I donât want to play wet today.â
Parker grinned. âDonât be a sissy. Wet is how Dailey probably wants us.â
Aaron offered no response, so Parker took a hit off his water bottle and continued on his way.
Forty minutes later, however, his own reserve of patience grew thinner after two more radio calls from the other two members of his team, each wanting to know where their lost hiker was. The temperature had dropped, and the clouds overhead were ripe with rain. Although heâd never admit it to Quick, rain wasnât his favorite thing, either. Rain on SAR was more than merely annoying. Water weighed everything downâŠpeople, gear bags, and moods.
âTeam four to base.â
âGo ahead team four,â Daileyâs flat voice gave nothing away.
âHowâs the rest of the op looking?â Parker asked, stopping to examine a broken branch and scan the forest floor.
âEverybodyâs in except you. Whatâs your status?â
âEmpty as of the last check in.â
âWaving the white flag?â Daileyâs voice, tinged with amusement, renewed Parkerâs spirit.
âHell, no. Just checking in to make sure the rookies brought their rain gear,â he joked, knowing that Dailey would send the other teams out to search with them if they didnât find their volunteer hiker soon. And there would be no end to the shit talking.
âThey did. Want me to send in a relief team?â
âGive me another twenty minutes,â he said.
âThought you said you were empty,â Dailey replied warily.
âMightâve been premature,â he said, spotting what could be drag marks. âI think Iâve got something.â
Dailey didnât answer.
Parker frowned. He approached a leaning pine with caution, unable to see much beyond it but ridge and sky. Testing the earth as he grew closer, he noted that some of the root system of the tree was showing. With pines having a shallow outward root system, anyway, Parker regarded the leaning tree with even more suspicion. Seeing the soil disturbed at the edge of the mountain made him warier still. Based on the treeâs location near the edge of the ridge, the tap root had probably never gone deep enough to anchor it to the mountain. As he backed away, first glancing at the sky then downward, a splash of blue to his right at the foot of the tree caught the corner of his eye.
Bingo.
Parker grinned.
âFour to base.â
âGo, four.â
âIâve got a camera bag. Empty.â
With all of team four on the same frequency, he almost couldnât hear the response for all the whoops.
âAnd the person that goes with it?â Daileyâs smirk was clear even over the air.
âNot yet. But soonâŠâ
Parker eased back around the side of the pine again, not liking the obvious next step in his search. With the tree leaning precariously as if it wanted to follow those skid marks down the mountain, there was no way he was going to touch it. An outcropping of rock nearby seemed the better option. Grabbing a fallen branch off the forest floor, Parker tested the earth at the base of the boulder before easing carefully onto it.Â
Shit. Really?
He echoed the same in his radio call to Dailey. âYou gave us a ledge drop, Mack? Seriously?â
The whoops changed to groans.
âWhat are you on about, Myers?â Dailey called over the din.
Parker studied the blonde sprawled on the worldâs smallest ledge. Roll over and take a death fall small. As the first chilly drops of rain began to spurt from the sky like tears of frustration, he felt like shedding a few of his own.
Silence on the airwaves only increased the elevator drop of his heart toward his feet.
âMack, I think shit just got real.â
~~~
âMelody?â Parker called down toward the blonde.
Nothing.
âMelody?â he tried again even as he gingerly tested the branch against the earth next to the womanâs feet. Seemed sturdy enough. Using it as a sort of crutch, he slid down the edge of the boulder until he stood fully at her feet.
âMack? Iâve got her, but sheâs out cold.â
The air crackled as Dailey came on. âWas she supposed to play unconscious?â he was asking someone in the background.
âWhatâs her story, Mack?â He glanced at the sky, at jagged lightning, and growled his impatience. âMack!â
âMelody. Her name is Melody. A photographer, been on a couple of these exercises with us in the past. And why the hell is she unconscious?â
âBecause she fell about ten feet off a ridge onto the smallest fucking ledge in the world. Thereâs barely room for two of us. I didnât ask her name. I know her fucking name.âÂ
Parker rattled off his best guess for where they were so the rest of the team could head their way, which was stupid, given that they all had GPS handhelds. Now that they knew parker was with the victim, team four could find them even if they were both unconscious. With Mackâs promise that help was coming, he signed off and considered the woman. Melody. Blonde and slender but sturdy, she remained oblivious when he called her name twice more and checked the pulse at her wrist.
âGood and strong,â he said aloud, in case his continued conversation might rouse her. âNo way to reach your pupils now, so weâll have to hope theyâre good.â
But why arenât you with me yet?
As if she heard his thought, she gasped awake, lifting her head in a panic.
âEasy,â he cautioned. âDonât make any fast moves.â
Her eyes widened a little as she realized where she was, ridiculously close to a long, long drop.
âOh. God.â Two words, more astonished than fearful. âWhereâs my camera?â she asked, turning her head. Wincing, she froze.Â
âYeah,â he said calmly, if not a little sarcastically, âthatâs why I said not to move.â
âOh, God,â she said again, eyes closed. âYouâre one of those âIâm always rightâ types, arenât you?â But she kept her head still.
âTakes one to know one,â he shot back, glancing up at the edge of the ridge. Too soon for rescue, unfortunately. But he lifted one corner of his mouth so sheâd understand he wasnât entirely serious.
âSorry,â she said softly. âI get cranky when I lose money. That camera was expensive.â
âUninsured?â
âNo. Insured. But now the premium will probably go up. Money.â
âMelody, youâre lucky you didnât kill yourself. Focus on that.â He couldnât quite mask the exasperation he was feeling.
âWow,â she groaned, easing into a sitting position, ignoring his plea to stay still. âThere you go again, Mr. Know-it-all.â
âWell, at least now I can have a look at your eyes.â
âLeave my eyes alone. Iâm fine. I just got the wind knocked out of me.â
âWhere did you receive your medical training, doctor?â Parker asked, officially past mildly annoyed and on his way to damn irritated. Here he was saving her ass, and she couldnât be bothered to be even a little compliant. Or grateful.
She rolled her eyes. He tried not to release the mental ha! when she winced.
âYou can cut out the condescension, Mountain Man. Itâs not like Iâve never hiked before. Accidents happen. Stop looking at me like Iâm some poor little damsel in distress.â
âOkay,â he said, looking away from her and back up at the ridge. âBut tell me something. Is this your everyday attitude, or should I worry that your belligerence is actually a concussion?â
When she didnât reply, he turned back to her vivid blue-green eyes and spat, âAnd the nameâs Parker.â
She sighed heavily.
âHere.â Parker held out a fresh bottle of water.
She looked at it as one might look at a poisonous snake.
âIâm fine,â she insisted.
He shrugged.
Several minutes of silence passed between them. He studied Melody blatantly, ignoring her obvious discomfort. So far as he could tell in a few quick glimpses, she wasnât bleeding heavily, though she had a few scrapes on her hands.
âWhat do you remember about falling?â he asked, trying to get a bead on where she might be hurt.
She partially lifted one shoulder, frowning. âI was holding my camera, setting up a picture of the valley. I felt my foot begin to slip, so I reached out with my hand to grab the tree, and thatâs about all I remember.â
He nodded. âWhereâs your pain, mostly?â
She ignored him.
âMelodyâŠâ
She sighed again. âMy right ankle hurts,â she admitted. âIronic, since I was supposed to claim I sprained it for the exercise. And Iâve got a killer headache. But that could be because you wonât stop bugging me.â Her tone implied she wasnât completely serious. He fought another smile.
Parker glanced down at her right ankle, then compared it to the left. Swollen to about twice the size of the other, he noted, scooting a little closer. The sky chose that moment to escalate from a slow drip of rain to a furious, stinging pour.
âShit!â He hurried to shrug out of his pack. Handing her an emergency blanket, he plucked his GPS from the front pocket of his cargos to follow the other red blips that were the rest of team four. Pulling another emergency blanket for himself, he called to Melody over the din. âClosest guy is still about a half mile away!â
She grimaced as she tucked her injured ankle closer to her body, clumsily spreading the blanket over it.
Parker shifted closer to her. Blankets and body heat would keep them safe from hypothermia. A good size chunk of their ledge fell away under his left boot as he used it to push closer to her, and he froze. Melody paled visibly. He could feel her left shoulder and arm go rigid against his right bicep.
âOkay,â he said slowly. âNo more moving for either of us until my team arrives.â
âNope,â she agreed. âI take it back,â she said a moment later.
âWhat?â he asked, daring to turn his head to look at her.
âYouâre not a know-it-all. Or, you are, but not in a bad way. JustâŠâ she took a shaky breath, and her voice caught with her next words. âJust get us home alive.â
He eased his radio toward his lips in tiny movements as a bit more of the ledge washed away in the rain. âTeam four to base.â
âQuickâs almost there, Parker. Howâs your vic?â Mack asked.
âAlert. Afraid. Weâre losing this ledge, Mack. We need out of here yesterday!â Parker called out over the din of the rain.
Quickâs voice jumped into the conversation. âOn my way! You got your harness set up?â
âNot sure that sort of movement is a wise choice right now!â Parker replied. Then, watching a little more of the edge fall away, he added, âBut Iâll work on it.â
Melodyâs eyes widened as the radio went silent.
Never taking his eyes off her, he moved increment by increment, like a film in slow motion, and plucked the first harness out of his pack, from the inside of his overturned helmet. She watched him put it on, her eyes naked with fear.
âI donât have one of those,â she said.
He dug a bit in his pack until he felt the second harness.
âTime to suit you up,â he said, not telling her that he didnât think theyâd have enough stabilityâor timeâto properly lift her off the ledge on a backboard rig or even in a halfback.
She winced several times as he strapped her into the chest harness, explaining each move before he made it. He wasnât sure if it was pain or that she, like he, noticed a little more of the ledge washing away even with their tiny movements.
He tucked her back under the emergency blanket as quickly as he could, mentally cursing the rain and praying for it to slow or stop altogether.
He ducked back under his own, cursing his decision to wear cargo shorts instead of pants. Melodyâs gaze was still steadfast on him, drawing hope or comfort or both from his forced nonchalance. Seldom did he get truly frightened during a SAR mission, let alone a training exercise, but with each clump of soil that dropped from his sight, his heart gave a little stutter. Parker was under no delusion of safety. They were knee deep in shit, and every second that passed felt like an hour.
Finally, finally, Quick arrived, panting from what was surely a dead run, and peered down at them.
âChadâs about five minutes away,â he gasped, flashing a reassuring grin in Melodyâs direction. âHi, there! Weâll be getting you out of here real soon,â he assured her.
Parker noticed she didnât lift her head toward Aaron, but she tried to smile.
Things soon became a blur of efficient movement. Melodyâs rescue from their rapidly narrowing perch relieved him in ways that went far beyond the normal satisfaction of a rescue. Parker pushed a niggling question away as he eased to his feet in incremental movements, the iceberg in his chest only melting once he was safely back on the ridge, plucking the blue camera bag from the base of the leaning pine.
And then they slogged their way toward the rest of the SAR group, the four members of team four sharing the load of a collapsible stretcher between them for what could have been six miles back to the makeshift SAR base but which Mack generously cut back to under two by collapsing their equipment and sending an off-road pickup as far in as he dared with the ground saturation and weather conditions being what they were.
Parker was never so happy to get the hell off a mountain as he was that day. He sent the three other members of his team into the quad cab with the driver, a guy from team two, and climbed into the truck bed with Melody.
âThis is the rough part,â he called, over the sheets of rain, holding a large emergency blanket over their heads. âEven strapped in like you are, youâre going to feel every bump and jolt on the way down.â
âTh-thatâs okay,â she replied as the truck jostled into drive. âIâm glad weâre off that ledge!â
âYou and me, both,â he grinned.
She closed her eyes, obviously weary.
With her eyes closed, Parker was able to study her without judgment or accusations of condescension.
Blonde hair in a single braid that he knew was now trapped under her back. The color, at her crown, reminded him of dry sand. Norwegian features, like a Helly Hansen cover model.
The truck bounced violently. Her face twisted up. Watching that and hearing her soft moan hit Parker straight in the gut. He didnât get emotionally tangled up in his victims, whether volunteers or actual rescues. Sure, nobody was immune to the little kids. Some of those stabbed his heart, sure enough, but he generally felt nothing other than a routine sort of concern. But he genuinely ached at her pain symptoms.
He put a hand on her arm. âEasy,â he soothed, âitâs not much farther to the main road. That will be smoother. Not perfect,â he admitted, âbut not as much jostling.â
She nodded weakly, keeping her eyes closed.
Glancing downward, he noticed her ankle had swollen even more, to epic proportions for her slight frame. âMelody, Iâm going to have to remove your shoe. The swelling at your ankle is so bad, Iâm afraid youâre going to lose all circulation if I donât.â
âOkay,â she agreed on another moan as the truck hit another rut.
âItâs going to hurt,â he warned, wincing at the thought of how it would feel. Heâd had a similar injury on a rescue in his late twenties, and he still remembered the pain when one of his fellow SAR workers removed his hiking boot. âA lot,â he added grimly.
âO-kay,â her voice caught.
He tried to be fast with it. Like pulling a Band-Aid. And still the ball of ice in his gut grew at every whimper, every cry, every tortured wail. With her shoe and sock off, he paused to study her face. Tears cut paths through a layer of dust that hadnât been visible before.
âYou did great,â he said, reaching up to gently squeeze her hand. He dug in his pack and found an instant ice pack. âIâm going to ice it to try to get some of the swelling down.â
She moaned softly again as he laid a small microfiber towel packaged with the instant ice down over her swollen ankle and gently draped the pack on top. With the movement of the truck, he was forced to hold it in place.Â
Every minute felt excruciatingly slow. Heâd never been so anxious coming down from a rescue in his life. Parker mentally kicked himself for it, yet he checked his watch about every third minute.
He always rode back with members of his team. After an exercise, heâd head back to camp with the others, have a beer, and dissect the strengths and weaknesses of their rescues. Today, he found himself ducking into the ambulance. Today, he paced the waiting room until, many more endless minutes later, an ER nurse reported back that patient Melody Holm had a serious ankle sprain (but no broken bones) and a mild concussion and would likely be released the next day.
Parker stood outside her room an hour later, debating whether or not to go in. He wasnât family, but sheâd given the nurse permission to inform him of her injuries. Just as heâd been trying to decide whether to message for one of his team to pick him up, the same nurse returned.
âMs. Holm was wondering if youâd stop by her room for a moment.â
He shot to his feet, abandoning the half-finished text message, and followed her out of the ER to the second floor to a closed door. She didnât wait. She turned back briskly for the elevator, so she didnât see how he was suddenly frozen there, wondering why he couldnât quite detach himself from what should be just another rescue, another volunteer, another training exercise.
Finally, a technician wheeling a mobile cart breezed up to the door, whipped it open, and said cheerfully, âIâm here to get your vitals, and I brought a friend!â He was forced to follow or make the technician a liar.
âHi,â she croaked drowsily. That little word, like her pained sounds earlier, stabbed him in the gut.
âHi,â he half whispered, watching her watch him from the foot of the bed.
âThank you for staying. You didnât have to,â she said. She didnât seem puzzled. He would be. Puzzled, that is. If some random SAR guy hung around for hours for a virtual stranger.
He dipped his head. âDo you have, you know, someone to help you out when they release you? Drive you back home?â
She nodded. âMy sister, Claudia, will come up from Phoenix.â
He wasnât sure why the next stab to his gut was one of disappointment. âGood,â he said, nodding. âIâm glad youâll be alright.â
âThanks to you,â she said, yawning.
He shrugged. âThatâs the job,â he said lamely, then instantly regretted it.
âWell, I wanted to say thanks. I mean, after you hung around and all. The nurse mentioned you were still in the waiting room and asked if we were family and whether she could share private information with you. I didnât know you were still here.â
He shrugged again. Regretted it again. Tried to show her he wasnât as nonchalant about it as he might seem. âI hated the thought of you stranded here, alone and hurt. Especially when you gave your time to our exercise.â
She smiled, her eyes drifting closed.
âGet some rest, Melody,â he said. âIâll try to stop by tomorrow, make sure your sister made it here okay and that you have a ride home.â
âThank you,â she mumbled.
The technician finished and wheeled her cart toward the door. He beat her to it, held it open, and followed her out.
He made it as far as the nursesâ station. He couldnât make himself exit through the floorâs double doors to the elevator. What the hell was the matter with him?
But he knew. He wasnât an idiot.
She got to him. Something about her snagged him and wouldnât let go. And it wasnât, contrary to her accusations, that he was a condescending know-it-all or that he looked down on her, saw her as a damsel in distress. It was that she refused to be treated with kid gloves. Didnât want or need sympathy. Tried not to complain as they pulled her back up on the ridge and then made her suffer through a grueling ride out of the woods and into the ambulance, though she was obviously in a lot of pain. Her matter-of-factness about it all touched a chord in him. Her attempts to joke around with his team, in fact, as they stretchered her to the truck and again as they unloaded her into the ambulance, were part of why he stood rooted near the exit, unable to leave.
Sheâd be sleeping through the night, pulled down by the painkillers, for Christâs sake, and wouldnât notice if he was there. And still, Parker asked the charge nurse if he could crash in her room on the recliner. Gratitude shot through him when she said sheâd bring him a pillow and blanket.
He checked his phone a last time, intending to turn it off until morning. It had, without his notice, blown up with texts from his team.
Dude, r u coming back 2nite or what?
Did u get lost on the way back from the hospital, Myers?
Are u alive???
Hello, bro??? WTF?
Mackâs about ready to send a team out after u. WHERE R U?
Smirking, he typed, Sorry. Staying at the hospital.
Whoa. That bad?! Quick answered.
Sheâs ok, but sheâs alone until family arrives. Night!
He switched off his phone so he wouldnât have to see their inevitable jokes. Bad enough he knew it would send them into a gossip frenzy. SAR workers could be as bad as tabloid reporters. Heâd face that mess tomorrow.
~~~
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â Melody tried to whisper into her phone, glancing at Parker. Unbelievably, he was still in her room, sprawled on what was probably the worldâs most uncomfortable recliner. With his face toward the window, she couldnât tell if his eyes were open.
She tried to slide from the bed noiselessly, but it creaked and rattled and made enough racket to wake the comatose. His head lifted. Melody could all but see him wonder where he was, ignoring her sisterâs voice at the other end of the phone.
âMelody, Iâm sorry! Are you still there?!â
As his sleepy eyes turned her way, Melody felt a jolt in her belly. What would it be like to wake up to that sexy, disheveled, slightly confused look every morning?
âClaud, hold onâŠâ she said, pointing at the phone as she hurried off the bed, forgetting her ankle until the air brace hit the floor and sent a sledgehammer of pain through her foot and leg. âAgh!!!!!â
Her surprise roommate went from dazed to alert in under three seconds, launching himself across the room to her side. So much for a touch up in the bathroom to make her look presentable.
âEasy!â he cautioned, taking her elbow and her weight as she stumbled. Their bodies bumped together. She felt all but naked in her gown, the hard planes of him making her belly flutter again, even through the pain.
âClaudia, Iâll call you back,â she groaned into the phone, hanging up and tossing it on the bed. âOw, ow, ow!â
Parker captured her other elbow and was effectively keeping her from dropping to the floor, but he was also still plastered against her, waiting patiently for her to regain her footing.
Could this get any more embarrassing? She tried to smile at him as the worst of the pain subsided, but even though she couldnât see her face, she could feel it. She could only imagine the grotesque grimace she was putting on.
He coughed lightly and eased her back toward the bed. âSit down,â he said, releasing her the instant her bottom hit the mattress. Before she could thank him, he whipped toward the door and called over his shoulder,
âCoffee!â
As he turned to head down the corridor, she caught sight of a hearty bulge at the front of his shorts before he covered it by zipping up his long SAR jacket.
She took a breath, the room spinning lazily. She grabbed her phone to avoid considering whether it was a chill in the room or the sight of Parkerâs obvious morning wood as he fled that had her nipples firmly beaded under her gown. After an excruciatingly slow trip to the bathroom, she eased back into bed and pulled the covers almost to her chin. Last thing she wanted was some nurse or technician barging in and seeing her that way. With shaking fingers, she unlocked her phone and dialed Claudiaâs number.
âJesus, Melody, are you okay?â Claudiaâs voice burst over the line.
She didnât know whether to feel touched at the alarmed shout or annoyed at the sizzle of pain that zipped through her skull from the volume. âIâm fine. I forgot about my ankle and came down too hard on it getting out of bed.â
âLook, Iâm trying to find a car, I swear.â
Youâd have your own if you had one iota of responsibility in your body.
Melody sighed. âEven if you find one, how am I going to get mine back to Phoenix?â
âI donât know. I can bring Brad with me, if I can wake him up.â
Oh, sure. Boyfriend du jour. Which one is this, again? The out-of-work, garage band guy, or the shady guy with the auto body shop that seemed to be open only at night to a few select customers?
âNo,â she said firmly. âIâm not having some hungover, half-asleep dude Iâve never met drive my car.â
I donât even want you driving my car, but Iâm desperate.
âI would drive your car,â Claudia countered. âHeâd drive whatever we came up in. Look, Iâll call around and see what I can find and call you back in a fewââ
âDonât bother,â Melody sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. âIâll figure it out.â Like I always do. Like Iâve always done.
âNo, Mel, I can do this. Cars break down. No biggie. Iâll find another.â
No, you wonât. Iâll get discharged and end up waiting for six hours on a bench outside this hospital before I have to get a taxi to some hotel for another night while I try to figure out how to get myself and my car home.
âNo, Claudia, really. Itâs okay. The rescue group is still in town. Iâm sure I can hitch a ride with them.â
On some crampy charter bus full of gear and rowdy SAR guys with energy to burn. Yay.
âDo you need me to meet you at your place? How are you going to get upstairs by yourself?â
Melody froze. Crap. She hadnât even considered that, herself. Thinking quickly, she blurted, âI can crash in the studio for a couple days.â
âA couple days? Sounds like it will be longer than that. Do you need me to come? I can come. My friends could use a break from me, anyway.â
Yeah, because youâve been surfing their couches for the last year and a half, drifting from one crappy job to another.
Melody closed her eyes again. She couldnât. Not now. She couldnât have this conversation. Couldnât have Claudia barging in, making more problems than she solved. No. âNo, Iâve got Grace to help out. Iâll be fine.â
Focusing on her capable, confident assistant kept Melodyâs head from exploding. Just barely.
âAre you absolutely sure? It might be fun, you know, me taking care of you for once.â
Yeah, sure. Until you hear about a raging party or someone invites you to go houseboating at Powell and you take off and leave me with your dirty laundry, dirty dishes, and an empty fridge.
âIâm sure,â she said aloud.
âOkay.â
Was that disappointment in Claudiaâs voice?
Probably bummed out because she doesnât get to freeload.
âIâll call you when I get back to town,â Melody said, âso you know I made it okay.â
âOkay,â Claudia repeated. An awkward silence followed. âLook, seriously, are you sure?â
âIâm sure. I have to go. I think the nurse is coming in with the discharge papers already,â she lied.
âOkay. Love you,â her sister said, the line going dead before she could reply.
Sure, you do.
Melody let the phone fall to her chest. What little energy sheâd woken with was gone. Claudia had that effect on her. More so lately, it seemed, as the years passed and her baby sister stayed frozen in place like a female Peter Pan. Never growing up. Never learning responsibility. Drifting. Drifting from relationship to relationship, minimum wage job to minimum wage job. Sleeping on friendsâ couches. Refusing Melodyâs offers of a job in her photography studio over and over again until sheâd been forced to hire an assistant. No matter. Grace was a godsend. And over the last several years, theyâd become good friends. She couldnât hire Claudia now even if she wanted to. She could only afford one employee.
Sheâd also offered her own couch in the apartment she occupied on the floor above her studio. Claudia refused it time and time again. Determined, it seemed, to stay a kid forever.
A food service worker brought her a tray of breakfast she had little appetite for, but she picked at it, realizing sheâd had nothing since about halfway into her hike the day before. She thought again of Parker and wished she didnât find him so attractive. The last thing she needed in her life was another Scott. Another climber.Â
Her heart panged. It felt right that the day had been a disaster. From the moment sheâd exited her car, sheâd wanted to get right back in and turn around and drive straight back to Phoenix. She stayed because sheâd made a commitment. Volunteering was a job like any other except without pay. You couldnât show up when you felt like it. If someone was expecting you, you needed to follow through. So even though memories of Scott clung fiercely to her like a cat lowered into a bathtub, sheâd stayed.
Sheâd missed him all the while, returning to an old habit of talking aloud to him as she walked, confident that she was alone and wouldnât be overheard. But it felt different than it had the last time sheâd done it. This time, she didnât feel like he was there with her. Sheâd stopped talking as soon as sheâd realized it, that she couldnât feel him around her. Admitting to herself that it had been over two years since the last time she had felt as though he were somewhere nearby brought her to tears. But then sheâd been distracted by the beauty of the hike and her tears dried up.
Melodyâs phone pinged. Claudia.
Are you sure?!!
Oh, for the love of God!
Positive! She texted back, frowning.
She closed her eyes and groaned, wondering if Parker was even going to come back after getting coffee. Heâd been gone long enough that sheâd finished breakfast and theyâd collected her tray.
The thought alone seemed to summon him.
Why was he always seeing her at her worst, her snarkiest?
âYou okay, Melody?â
She felt him watching her. Probably had that same concerned look on his face, the one that made her feel guilty. Guilty for being stupid and slipping yesterday, guilty for scoffing at him for doing his job, guilty for somehow making him feel obligated to sleep in a chair by her bed, and guilty for making him hang around her room when he probably had much better things to do.
âMy head hurts, but Iâm fine.â she told him, opening her eyes. Keenly observant, he didnât miss her clutching her phone in a white-knuckle sort of grip.
âEverything arranged for your ride home?â He set his coffee on the little sink counter in the room, edging toward the bed, his eyes cool and assessing.
âCar trouble,â she said, shifting in the bed, unable to find something comfortable.
âNeed a ride?â His phone interrupted, blaring the chorus from the Skillet song, âHeroâ. He rolled his eyes. âWhich one of you jackasses messed with my phone?â he barked into it, turning back toward his coffee. âWhen did you even have time...Yeah, well, just wait. Iâll return the favor when you least expect it.â Parker paced the room. âWell, tell Mack Iâm sorry. I didnât realize he wanted to leave before sunup.â
Melody wanted to crawl out of bed and sink into a hole on the floor. Sheâd kept him from leaving, guilting him into napping in the recliner with her pitifulness the night before. Now she added a pitifulness that stemmed from being stranded without the ability to drive herself, mixed with a healthy dose of residual, âOh, my God, what if this ledge gives way completely?â
And then he looked her way again, with that SAR concern of his all over his face, along with something else that made her fluttery in her belly, and asked, âNeed a ride back to Phoenix?â
She nodded, heat flooding her face. âI could use someone to drive my car down.â
âGo,â he told the teammate at the other end of the phone. âShe brought her own vehicle and could use a ride home. Iâll drive her down. Yeah, man. Okay.â
Melody opened her mouth to apologize and froze at the smile he gave her.
âProblem solved,â he said, grabbing his coffee and easing back down on the recliner.
She didnât know what to say to that, so she said nothing at all.
