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Authors: Karina Cooper
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whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “You’re doing fine. Let’s go.” Little by little. Aggravatingly, mind-bendingly slowly, the water eased from her waist to her knees. Another bout of directions. His voice became a steady rasp of sound, a constant stream of encouragement and direction that she couldn’t decipher as she struggled not to picture the yawning crevasse below them.
One misstep and they’d fall right back into the current. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to fight it this time.
She must have made a sound because his arm curled around her ribs again, and his breath warmed her ear as he said, “Take a rest.”
She clung to the rock, shuddering. “Can’t,” she muttered thickly. “Won’t go again. K-keep going.”
He hesitated. Then, as if he understood her desperation, he let her go and instructed, “Right hand, reach up.”
She could barely feel the sharp rock anymore. She was only vaguely aware of his weight behind her; he supported her more than she was herself. Inch by inch, the icy currents below them dropped away. It was something she felt more than saw. Or did she imagine it?
Were they only a foot up? Only a few inches out of the water?
Juliet squeezed her eyes shut, moaning.
“Nearly there,” he said behind her, and she almost believed it. Almost.
“H-how do you st-st-stay so c-calm?” she managed, teeth chattering together. It felt as if her whole body vibrated, graceless as a puppet.
“The alternative sucks.”
She laughed. It shuddered. “C-can imagine. Aren’t y-you cold?”
“Freezing.”
“Can’t tell,” she said on a sigh that frosted the air in front of her.
“I just think about better times.” A smile touched his voice. Or did she imagine that, too?
“Like warm fires, r-right?”
His hips braced her weight, holding her for a moment as if he knew that her arms screamed in mutiny. “Like warm skin,” he said roughly, almost too low to hear. “Like sweat and spring green eyes and all that other crap I don’t need to be thinking about.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. Exhaustion. That’s all. Her head ached incessantly; just another note in a symphony of misery.
“Left foot,” he added, and if there had been even a glimmer of lightness there, it was gone now.
“C-Caleb.”
“Now right hand, where mine is. Wedge your fingers in. What?”
Juliet jammed her twisted fingers into the crevice he guided her to and rested her forehead against the cliff face. “Did y-you know . . . this would happen?”
There was a pause as he found his own niche. A grunt as the muscles in his shoulders and chest contracted, supporting his weight and most of hers. The fluidity of motion behind her, the flex and tightening of his body, fascinated her.
She’d seen how badly scarred he was. He had to be in excruciating pain.
When they were tight against the wall again, he finally said, “I don’t see everything. I don’t even see things I think I should. It’s not a feed I can just dial into, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not?”
Another beat of silence, filled with the whispering current below them and the sound of her own hard breathing. Then, so quietly she almost missed it over the roar of the water, he replied, “I don’t know.”
“Are we g-going to die here?”
“Right hand,” he directed, and Juliet didn’t have the energy to do anything but obey. She let him dodge the question, let it hang beside them as they crawled up the cliff wall for what seemed like an eternity. They paused only long enough to shake out stinging fingers and talked only as much as directions required.
And every step of the vertical climb, he held her. Supported her weight, caught her as she fumbled and slid. Pain ratcheted through his voice as the climb wore on, and she struggled to maintain her own momentum. Carry more of her own weight so he wouldn’t have to.
When her fingers closed over nothing, her heart
“It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “You’re doing fine. Let’s go.” Little by little. Aggravatingly, mind-bendingly slowly, the water eased from her waist to her knees. Another bout of directions. His voice became a steady rasp of sound, a constant stream of encouragement and direction that she couldn’t decipher as she struggled not to picture the yawning crevasse below them.
One misstep and they’d fall right back into the current. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to fight it this time.
She must have made a sound because his arm curled around her ribs again, and his breath warmed her ear as he said, “Take a rest.”
She clung to the rock, shuddering. “Can’t,” she muttered thickly. “Won’t go again. K-keep going.”
He hesitated. Then, as if he understood her desperation, he let her go and instructed, “Right hand, reach up.”
She could barely feel the sharp rock anymore. She was only vaguely aware of his weight behind her; he supported her more than she was herself. Inch by inch, the icy currents below them dropped away. It was something she felt more than saw. Or did she imagine it?
Were they only a foot up? Only a few inches out of the water?
Juliet squeezed her eyes shut, moaning.
“Nearly there,” he said behind her, and she almost believed it. Almost.
“H-how do you st-st-stay so c-calm?” she managed, teeth chattering together. It felt as if her whole body vibrated, graceless as a puppet.
“The alternative sucks.”
She laughed. It shuddered. “C-can imagine. Aren’t y-you cold?”
“Freezing.”
“Can’t tell,” she said on a sigh that frosted the air in front of her.
“I just think about better times.” A smile touched his voice. Or did she imagine that, too?
“Like warm fires, r-right?”
His hips braced her weight, holding her for a moment as if he knew that her arms screamed in mutiny. “Like warm skin,” he said roughly, almost too low to hear. “Like sweat and spring green eyes and all that other crap I don’t need to be thinking about.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. Exhaustion. That’s all. Her head ached incessantly; just another note in a symphony of misery.
“Left foot,” he added, and if there had been even a glimmer of lightness there, it was gone now.
“C-Caleb.”
“Now right hand, where mine is. Wedge your fingers in. What?”
Juliet jammed her twisted fingers into the crevice he guided her to and rested her forehead against the cliff face. “Did y-you know . . . this would happen?”
There was a pause as he found his own niche. A grunt as the muscles in his shoulders and chest contracted, supporting his weight and most of hers. The fluidity of motion behind her, the flex and tightening of his body, fascinated her.
She’d seen how badly scarred he was. He had to be in excruciating pain.
When they were tight against the wall again, he finally said, “I don’t see everything. I don’t even see things I think I should. It’s not a feed I can just dial into, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not?”
Another beat of silence, filled with the whispering current below them and the sound of her own hard breathing. Then, so quietly she almost missed it over the roar of the water, he replied, “I don’t know.”
“Are we g-going to die here?”
“Right hand,” he directed, and Juliet didn’t have the energy to do anything but obey. She let him dodge the question, let it hang beside them as they crawled up the cliff wall for what seemed like an eternity. They paused only long enough to shake out stinging fingers and talked only as much as directions required.
And every step of the vertical climb, he held her. Supported her weight, caught her as she fumbled and slid. Pain ratcheted through his voice as the climb wore on, and she struggled to maintain her own momentum. Carry more of her own weight so he wouldn’t have to.
When her fingers closed over nothing, her heart
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