Page 75 of Wandering Wild

“Got you!”

With two words, my grief evaporates—and my fall stops before it even begins.

Because Charlie is leaning over the edge of the gorge, her face white and her fingers clasped around my wrists in a bruising monkey grip.

“Hold on!” she says, grunting from the effort of bearing my weight.

I snap back to myself and try to use my legs to take the strain off her, but the rock only crumbles more from my efforts. “I can’t get any leverage!”

She tightens her hold, her features resolute as she uses all of her strength to haul me upward while rasping out, “We didn’t”—grunt—“come this far”—heave—“for you”—another grunt—“to die!”

I finally get my left boot into a solid foothold, and with a mighty push from me and another heave from Charlie, I lurch up and over the edge of the gorge, the force of our efforts sending her flying backward with me landing on top of her.

For a moment, all I can do is lie there, panting and shaking, shock setting in now that I’m no longer about to plummet to my death. Charlie holds me close and rubs my back in comfort, until finally I’m able to pull away slightly. I don’t draw back completely, just hover above her, looking down in wonder.

“You saved me,” I say, not hiding the emotion in my voice. “Again.”

“You saved me in the tunnel,” she reminds me softly. “It was my turn to balance the scoreboard.”

I think back over everything she’s done for me on this trip, from the very first day when I had my panic attack on the mountain. “You’re still leading the tally.”

“It’s not a competition.” Her voice is breathy now as she realizes I haven’t moved. “But if it was, I’d be winning.”

My lips hitch up. Her gaze flicks to them—and stays there. Heat pools in me at the look in her eyes, and I’m helpless to resist the longing on her face. I don’t let myself consider all the reasons why this is a bad idea before I lower my head toward hers, moving slowly to gauge her reaction. Everything about her is saying she wants this as much as I do, her hands tugging me closer as one of mine moves to cup her face.

“Charlie,” I whisper her name, needing to know that she’s real, that she’s in my arms—and that she needs me like I need her.

Her lips are so close that I feel her breath on my skin, causing a shiver to roll down my spine even as warmth envelops me, the sensation sending sparks of awareness through my blood. I can’t wait any longer to close the distance between us?—

But then I hear it.

My head shoots up at the distantwhup-whup-whupsound of rotor blades slicing through the air.

Charlie’s violet eyes turn fearful as she gasps, “The helicopter.”

Our heated moment is shattered in an instant, reality crashing over us as we realize what will happen if we don’t make it to the clearing in the next few minutes.

I stare back at Charlie as dread floods us both, before I scramble to my feet and pull her up with me, uttering a single word:

“Run.”

We sprint through the trees as if there’s a pack of wild animals snapping at our heels, pushing our bodies faster and faster toward the clearing. I wish I could say all my attention is on the approaching helicopter and making sure we reach it in time, but as I race through the forest, there are only two things bouncing around in my mind:

Zander nearly kissed me.

And I wanted him to.

Desperately.

His lips wereright there, barely a whisper away from my own. If the interruption had only come a few minutes later, even a fewsecondslater...

I shake my head at myself, unable to believe my thoughts. For days, all I’ve wanted was to reach the extraction point and fly away to safety. And now that our rescue is imminent, all I feel is hormone-driven disappointment. But at least I’m not alone—I saw the look on Zander’s face when we first heard the sound of the blades, his frustration as strong as mine. I would snort at our mutual absurdity if I wasn’t so focused on not tripping over my own feet as we dash through the last of the remaining trees.

And then, finally, they end, causing us to skid to a halt at the edge of a small, grassy clearing covered in native wildflowers. As stunning as the sight is, there’s something even more beautiful before us, something that makes me stop thinking about our almost-kiss and instead stifle a sob of relief.

The helicopter is here, dropping down from the sky to land softly among the flowers.

I turn to Zander, unable to keep the tears from my eyes, and equally unable to resist throwing my arms around him and laughing into his neck.

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