3
| LOGAN |
A full minute passes and we still can’t pinpoint where the sound of distress came from.
I’ve got a couple dozen workers stationed around the 50,000 square-foot space, but per protocol, they each stay to monitor the climbers in their zones. So far, none of them can offer me any insight as to which section to head to. And with every passing second, I feel the atmosphere in the gym changing. The rumbling murmurs are growing louder, and climbers on every wall are starting to stop mid-climb to find out what’s going on.
Shit, we need this contained now. The last thing we want is panic to set in and begin spreading like wildfire.
It takes another minute of searching, but finally, I spot him.
About four stories up on one of the inverted overhangs. His death grip on the wall is way too tight, and his entire frame is completely seized up in terror.
He’s one of Nicole’s college kids; I’d recognize the big bruiser anywhere.
Why the hell is he up there on his own? A couple of her students have been known to freeze up from time to time on the higher climbs, but usually, she’s right there with those climbers to get them through it.
“Oh my god, that’s Kenny,” she confirms. “He isn’t supposed to go on the advanced walls without me.”
Up top, I see one of my workers, Becca, coming down and across from the east to get to the frightened kid. But, when her rappel rope swings over to him, Kenny jerks to avoid it and slams his head into the wall.
Instantly, he loses his bearings. His anchor foot slips off the foothold a moment later, leaving him frantically searching in vain for something else to secure his foot to.
I whistle up at Becca and she immediately halts, holding her position on my command to keep from rattling him even more.
“Kenny,” calls up Nicole then in the now silent gym. “I’m right here. Just focus on my voice. You need to regain control of your situation. Just like always. I know it’s hard, but you can do this. I know you can.”
Her voice is almost shockingly soothing. I’ve been through this hundreds of times and I’ve never once been able to fake it that well.
Kenny manages to get his foot back in place, but even from down here, I can tell that’s not going to be enough. The way he’s holding himself, he’s clearly starting to have the shakes.
It’s not muscular, it’s mental. His body’s shutting down from the fear, and if he can’t rein it in, he’ll fall. What worries me the most is how he’s tangled himself up in his ropes with his thrashing. Coming off the wall with his lines wrapped around him like that, his injuries could be substantial.
“Nicole! I can’t do this! You have to help me!”
Damn it all to hell. Before I can stop her, Nicole shoots forward and starts charging up the wall like a fucking superhero spider.
She’s incredible. And she’s making me scared shitless the higher she goes.
No one, I mean no one is allowed to go up without gear in my gyms.
She stops just below the forty-foot mark, near enough to talk to him, but far enough away that he won’t take her down off the wall with him if he falls.
She’s good. Really good. None of us would’ve been able to calm the kid down any faster, any better. The shakes seem to be gone now, and she’s getting him to carefully detangle his lines.
That said, the one feeling the most fear at the moment is probably me.
Nicole’s steady as a rock. Fierce, focused. But she’s been hanging up there in one spot on a fairly graduated incline route for almost five minutes now, and that’s after racing up faster than she should’ve. I know she’s got to be aching by now. Climbing without gear is all around more intense. Much more exhausting. The added mental and emotional exertion means increased muscular strain and fatigue, which can push even strong climbers to their limits.
When the kid slowly, awkwardly starts to rappel down the wall, I signal Becca to shadow him. Then I return my focus to Nicole. She hasn’t budged. All her attention is on Kenny as he makes his way down. I want to shout at her to stop being a goddamn hero and get moving. But I know she won’t.
I start seriously fucking praying to whoever is listening when she finally begins her descent, silently whispering for her to keep her hold, to stay in her safe space mentally. Every bit of her needs to focus on this.
She’s at the thirty-foot mark still on an inverted plane when I see her fingers slipping from the handhold. I react, rushing to get under her to at least break her fall.
Barely, just barely, I manage to catch her by the waist before she hits the floor. It’s likely I bruised half her ribs in the process, but at least her legs aren’t broken.
I yank her in close, locking her tiny frame against me so tight I can feel her pounding heartbeat against my chest.
Nothing else is even registering right now. She’s safe; that’s all my brain can process.
We stay there like that for a while, long after my lungs remember to keep breathing and the absolute horror I’d felt starts dissipating.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that I finally have her soft curves in my arms. But I don’t want to just keep holding her. I want to kiss the absolute hell out of her.
I don’t though.
And the reason why is the very thing she was trying to get me to confess earlier.
It’s why I’ve always kept my distance.
“Thank you, Logan,” she whispers softly before gently disengaging from my iron grip.
She hops down and smiles at the gathered crowd. “And that’s why we never climb without gear, ladies and gentlemen!” she calls out, trying to lighten the mood.
A quiet group chuckle ripples across the onlookers, more nervous than humorous, but thankfully, the heavy fog of apprehension starts to lift, and people begin climbing again.
I watch as Nicole flexes her cramped fingers and surveys her now broken, bleeding nails—just like I’m doing—before she sticks her hands in her pocket and bee-lines straight for Kenny to check on him.
“Man, she’s amazing,” I hear Derick say from behind me and I glare at him. The way he’s staring at Nicole is making my blood boil. I know I don’t have a claim on her, but still.
I wait until she’s done talking to her student before snagging her gaze. Then I jerk my chin over to my office. My silent demand is practically Neanderthal, I know.
Thank hell, she follows.