Vivian Arend - High Risk

The scent of the breeze after it had passed over fresh snow hit her face—adding another acidic, sharp flavour to the day. The truth was going to burn for a long time. Why prolong the pain?

“Marcus?” She kept staring over the beautiful panorama, but even that didn’t provide any hope. “I . . . I cut the line.”

He was next to her chair in an instant, kneeling at her side. “What do you remember?”

Turning to look into his face was possibly more heartbreaking than actually knowing what she’d done. Because now? She was going to sever the line between them and kill all hopes of a relationship. Of a forever between them.

She’d gone and done the worst thing possible. She’d fallen in love just in time to have to cut him free.

His eyes were dark—focused. Totally and completely concentrating on her alone.

Losing his confidence in her was going to be the second worst part.

“I did it, Marcus. I’ve been so certain all this time that I would never ever do that to a partner, but I saw it. The rope attached to my harness was cut, exactly the distance it would have been if I took a knife to it. I saved myself, and Dane died. We can go back—set up an announcement. I should let David know—”

“Bullshit.”

His grip on her thigh had tightened as she spoke, but the sheer violence in his tone shocked her. She frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about? It’s the truth. I can’t deny it. We came here to avoid the reporters, but now that I know—”

“Stop it. You’re jumping to conclusions. Stop rolling yourself forward so fast and tell me what you remember.”

Becki bit back a sob. “Why are you doing this? It’s hard enough to have to say it once, but this is cruel. I killed him, okay? I killed my climbing partner to save myself.”

Marcus caught her and pulled her forward, and she allowed his embrace, her body still stiff, but her face pressed into the crook of his shoulder. Tears escaped no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

He held her tight and managed to switch their positions so she was cradled in his lap, his fingers stroking through her hair as he soothed her. When she managed to stop from shaking so hard, each breath dragging in raggedly, he let her go a bit, far enough that his caress moved to her cheek.

“I know what you’ve remembered seems shocking, and you’re rightly upset. But I need you to tell me all the details, okay? Don’t assume.”

A flash of anger intruded. “You think I’m too stupid to know what I saw?”

“I think you’re too upset to think rationally. Share, let me help you. I’m here for you.”

Becki breathed out her fears and frustrations. This wasn’t going to be settled in a minute, or a day. This was something that would haunt her forever. She might as well start the torture with someone she loved who would at least be honest and not vindictive. Because those responses were sure to be coming down the road.

“I saw the rope, Marcus. I was on my feet, gathering my gear after down climbing a rock face. It must have been after I’d cut Dane free, and I must have slipped and knocked myself out briefly. I had a cut rope attached to my harness. Right after that I found the descent trail I followed that led me past where the girls were trapped—the memory that returned earlier.”

Becki sighed, staring at the mountains. “The two memories line up. I took that short length off and used it as part of the halter I tied to help the girls off the ledge. That’s why I didn’t see it before, why no one noticed.”

Marcus continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb. “So you remember finding the cut rope, and discovering the girls?”

“The entire rescue of the girls—it’s completely back.” She twisted to face him. “Whenever you’re ready, we can return to Banff.”

He shook his head. “I’m not finished asking questions. You don’t remember the actual moment, do you?”

Pain laced through her and she wiggled free, pressing to her feet so she could stand alone. “Not really wanting that memory to return, if I’m honest. Don’t you think what I have to deal with is enough?”

“I think you’re jumping to some conclusions,” Marcus stated. “I think you’ve had a shock, and you need to slow down and be patient.”

“Fuck being patient,” she shouted. The anger that flared seemed unreasonable, but the knot in her chest was more than she could bear. “This isn’t some training exercise, Marcus. This isn’t about a weekend of us getting our kicks with each other. Someone died, and it was my fault.”

She stomped into the cabin, slamming the door behind her, feeling childish at the same time that the rush of her anger covered some of the pain. Stuffing the few bits of clothing she’d unpacked back into her gym bag gave her a task to concentrate on for a moment. Something other than the fact that her world was falling apart.

She’d known he wouldn’t leave her to brood. His warm body pressed behind her a second before he turned her to face him, his strong embrace tangling around her like a cocoon.

“I’m sorry.” His chest rose as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how much this hurts you. For what it’s worth, I still trust you. Completely.”

Another sob escaped at hearing the conviction in his statement.

Oh God. Out of everything he could have said—telling her it would be okay? That she’d make it through? She could have handled those.

His trust tore her apart.

Her fingers curled into a fist, and she pounded his chest in sheer frustration. “You suck, Marcus. I hate crying, and I’m going to bawl like a baby in a second because of you.”

“You deserve the truth,” he said. Simple words. Powerful words.

Becki tilted her head to stare at him. Maybe it wasn’t rational, but knowing he still trusted her, or at least said he did?

She was going to cling to that like a lifeline even as her heart broke and she moved toward saying good-bye.

Stubborn, hardheaded, fantastic woman. Marcus was torn between holding her or shaking sense into her.

Becki wiggled away and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water spilling through the slightly open door. He peered in to see her press a washcloth to her face, bathing away her tears.

It was his turn to pace the room and stare at the walls, striving desperately to figure out what to do next, what to say, before she returned.

She seemed determined to ignore reason. Her fears were understandable, only she’d taken the tiniest scrap of memory, followed it with some assumptions, and believed the worst-case scenario as fact.

He got it—the wanting to move on. Accepting what you assumed to be true because the alternative was to stay frozen in one place. But he’d learned the hard way, though, that situations, even memories, weren’t always what they seemed.

Alisha had shared that Becki wanted to go back to Yellowstone. If she’d been cleared to rejoin her rescue squad, he would have had to say good-bye. He would have, too. Would have lied his fucking ass off and pretended he was pleased for her, and enthusiastically sent her on her way.

He couldn’t be a part of her world—not at the high-risk level she was capable of. Not with his arm, or the nightmares that still hovered. He might run a SAR, but he wasn’t part of it.

And he loved her too much to hold her back.

Goddamn. It seemed he still had a heart after all. He’d given it away in spite of trying not to.

He’d fallen for her. Hard.

At times like this, his mandate of move decisively battled with be patient. Becki had asked him years ago how to know which of those two rules to act on.

All he knew for sure was he didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to cause her any more pain. More than that, there were no easy answers, other than there was no way he could allow her to take the next steps alone.

She stepped out of the bathroom, chin held high, her face much brighter, if only from a vigorous scrubbing.

When you weren’t positive what to do, you started at the beginning and proceeded step by step. He indicated the kitchen chairs behind them. “Come on. Let’s make a list. Consider what needs to be done. There’s no time frame for you to move. The authorities have waited for months. They can wait a couple more days if that’s what it takes for you to be prepared. Understand?”

Becki nodded.

Before he could move, she was against him, hugging him tightly. “Marcus—thank you.”

The thought of losing her was going to break him in two. “Nothing to thank me for. Come on.”

She stood tall, pulling her shoulders back, that strength he’d always admired being dragged on like a protective coat. It made him admire her even more.

He found a pad of paper, then sat at the table. “Who do you need to contact in Yellowstone?”

Becki pulled out the chair beside him, staring into space before giving him names. “If you give me the sat phone, I can call them.”

Marcus ignored her. “Who else?”

“David. I need to let him know. . . .” She cleared her throat. “You understand I won’t be taking the position at Banff SAR now.”

Her fingers shook, and he reached out to squeeze them. “I think you should talk to him before resigning, but let’s put it on the page for now.”

When she didn’t argue, he breathed a sigh of relief. As far as he was concerned, David would be crazy to let her go, but he had to leave that decision up to his brother. He’d go along with the façade of pretending to agree with her on that one so they could keep talking. “What next? What are you thinking of doing for work, then?”

“Not sure.” She picked at a gouge in the tabletop. “Nothing in SAR, that’s for sure. I’ll probably head home to the farm for a while. Doubt the media will want to make the trek into rural Saskatchewan, and if they do, my dad’s got NO TRESPASSING signs posted far enough back that I can at least be useful doing chores until the interest dies away.”

Dammit. Her willingness to give up and move on so quickly pissed him off. Maybe being gentle wasn’t the way to go. Honest. He’d promised to be honest, and here was his chance.

“You could do that. Or we could deal with the media, expect them to go away in a short while, and if David doesn’t think your staying on at Banff SAR works, you can come and work for me.”

Her sudden intake of breath and white face made him reach out to steady her, afraid she was going to collapse to the floor.

Words snapped out of her like a whip. “Are you nuts?”

“No.”

“You are.” She leapt to her feet and paced away, dragging her hands through her hair before twirling on him. “If I can’t work at the school, how could it possibly be a good idea to join your team? No one will want me involved in rescues. No one will trust me.”

“You’re leaping to a lot of conclusions, but we’ll cross them as they arrive. Don’t you want to work in the mountaineering world anymore?”

“Stop this.” She wrapped her arms around her. “Stop tormenting me with possibilities that are no longer within my reach.”

It took everything he had not to rise and hold her again. But she needed to accept what he was saying. Needed to believe him.

“Answer the damn question, Becki.”

“Yes,” she shouted, utter despair on her face. “Yes, I want to work in the mountains. I want to climb and fly rescues. I want to experience the thrill and the adrenaline rush. I want to make a difference, and I can’t. Don’t you see? I can’t do any of that anymore because it’s—”

Her voice broke and her knees gave way. He was barely in time to catch her, holding her with his body as he guided her to the couch.

Becki attempted to shake off his help, but he held on. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped. “Listen. For one goddamn time in your life, listen first. If I have to tie you up to make you stay put, I swear I will.”

He sat her down and knelt in front of her again, catching hold of her chin in his fingers. Forcing her to look at him. She wasn’t seeing the big picture, so he’d push her in the right direction until she came back to her senses. “This is not the end of your career in the mountains, and you’re being ridiculous if you think it is. Yes, some people will avoid you. Yes, some people will say cruel and cutting things. Fuck them. Fuck them all.”

Misery still stared back, but at least she was listening.

“Wouldn’t that be your comment if years ago someone had said you couldn’t be on a squad because you were a woman? If you overheard someone taunting that there was no way a petite woman like Alisha could possibly be lead hand on an elite SAR team? You’ve always done what you’ve thought was right. You’ve let your actions show what you’re capable of—let your skills prove that you’re competent and strong. Since when have you cared what other people think when what you know—”