He’d changed because of
“Chaaaance!” She was moving back toward him in slow motion, panic and terror in her eyes, her hands waving as she tried to warn him. Because while he’d stopped with his life-altering realization, while he’d decided to walk away, the Jeep hadn’t slowed at all, and as it approached the last few feet before the cliff, as it set itself in a motion that couldn’t be stopped, it took him with it.
Right over the edge.
It happened so very slowly that Chance literally saw his life flash before his eyes, just as everyone always claimed. He saw his parents, wild and free in Las Vegas, having the times of their lives.
He should have called them more.
He saw his brothers, Kell and Brandon, both big and tough and strong and disciplined.
And though they’d never been close, he should have called them more, too.
It took a lifetime for the Jeep’s momentum to take it past him, down the embankment. He grabbed out blindly, and found purchase in a very hard, very wet, very eager to shred-his-skin-to-bits tree.
He clung to it in slow motion as well, watching the Jeep slide down, watching the rain fall, watching dirt and debris hit him, hurt him, until finally, tired, he closed his eyes.
13
This was Ally’s mantra as she crawled to the edge of the embankment where Chance and the Jeep had vanished. When she saw the top of his wet, blond head she nearly collapsed in relief.
He was fifteen feet down, hanging on, his arms straining over his head, to a branch that didn’t look sturdy enough to hold him. Ten feet below him, on a ledge, sat the Jeep, looking as if it’d been purposely parked there. “Chance!”
“I’m okay,” he said, but he didn’t move.
One, she was in the driving rain, far too close to the edge of a cliff that could give away any second now. Two, she was the only one in the world in any immediate position to help Chance. And three, the pathetic, mousy city girl masquerading as Ms. Carefree had better get it together quickly, because she just realized every bit of strength she’d found over the past month had deserted her. “Hang on!” she called down. She whipped around to squint at the car that had hit the Jeep. The man who’d been driving was running toward her. “Do you have a cell phone?” she yelled.
He nodded and made an abrupt about-face, going back for the phone.
Ally was just peering over the cliff again when another car came ripping up the road, peeling to a stop behind the first car.
Brian and Jo came running.
Ally had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. “Get rope,” she told Jo. “Get the guy’s cell phone and call 911,” she yelled to Brian, and they both ran to help.
A sudden calm determination come over Ally then. Without hesitation, she carefully and slowly went over the side of the cliff. “Chance!” she called, moving down an inch at a time, searching for foot and hand-holds.
He shook his head as if clearing it, and looked up. There was a cut on his forehead, and mud over most of him. When he saw her coming down after him, he lost whatever color he had left. “Ally, no.”
Ten more feet. Nine. She wasn’t going to stop now. From above, both Jo and Brian reappeared.
“My God!” Jo cried. “Ally, stop- Wait!”
She couldn’t now, she was committed. And halfway there. Brian came over the edge as well, and started his way down to help her.
Again Chance shook his head, looking a little green around the edges. But he was alert, and he reached up to start the climb.
Ally kept moving toward him, heart in her throat. Hand over hand she went, reaching out carefully, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing, because if she did, she’d lose it. She grabbed at a rock, but it came loose, setting off a slide of rocks and debris. With a gasp, she flattened herself against the side of the mountain, cringing as both she and Chance, who had nearly met her now, took several hits.
“Watch out,” Jo yelled from above. “Watch out for-”
“I’m okay!” Terrified, but okay. The strenuous climb was taking every bit of concentration she had, so she jerked in surprise when suddenly Chance was at her side. She wanted to cry, wanted to grab him, wanted to shake him and make sure he never ever did anything heroic ever ever again, but he was looking at her with that same look right back and she couldn’t speak.
“You don’t have a rope on,” he said hoarsely, maneuvering sideways so he could curve an arm around her. “Ally, my God, if you let go-”
She both laughed and cried, but didn’t dare let go to touch him. “Believe me, I’m not letting go. Now tell me the same.”
His eyes were so dark, so intense. “I won’t fall.”
“Promise.” It was inane, but she needed to hear him, needed him to keep looking at her like that, always.
“Promise.” He nudged her back up, refusing to go ahead, staying right behind her, one tensed arm on either side of her legs. Unable to help herself, she kept craning her neck to look back at him. His hands were cut, his every muscle straining with effort but whenever she looked at him he managed a grim smile and urged her along. “I’m okay,” he kept saying, but she couldn’t believe it. They came upon Brian, who looked Chance over as if he were on Search and Rescue duty before silently and efficiently starting the climb back up as well.
Then they were at the edge, climbing up and over, only to fall to the ground in exhaustion.
Chance went to his knees, weaving once before opening his arms, which Ally dove into without thought, clasping herself to his big, warm, filthy chest. Jo locked her arms around the both of them, and they all dragged Brian into the fray, squeezing hard.
“Okay, so maybe you’re ready for rock climbing,” Chance quipped, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes, which were strained and shadowed.
“That might have been more adventure than I ever planned on,” Ally admitted.
“That was too much for anyone.” He held her so tight she could barely draw air into her lungs, but breathing came in a distant second to being cradled against him.
He was bigger than life. He was brave and untamed. He was uninhibited and earthy, and his love for the outdoors was contagious.
But she was also madly in love with him and he didn’t love her back. He never would. She had to remember that.
“I vote that this was enough training for all of next year,” Jo said, trying to laugh, but her eyes filled. She couldn’t stop hugging everyone, and Ally knew the feeling.
She didn’t want to take her hands off Chance ever again.
Brian, clearly uncomfortable with all the emotion, turned away, but before he could walk, Chance stopped him. “In an emergency, I want to be with you, Slick. You’re one tough, sharp thinker. Consider yourself promoted to staff status.”
“You said I wasn’t old enough.”
“Not for ski patrol, but we’ll find something. You’re official, and as of right now, you’re on the payroll. Next time you risk your neck for me, you’re damn well going to get paid for it.”
Forgetting he didn’t like to be touched, forgetting he didn’t trust adults and that he was openly crying, Brian hugged Chance, a full-bodied, back-slapping hug between two men who weren’t afraid to show how they felt.
“Dammit, stop it,” Jo said, swiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve.
Ally found herself back in Chance’s arms, back in the place she felt the most alive. And the look in his eyes, the
