Page 64 of Seeds of Christmas
No more time for doubt. No more wishing Dominic were here instead.
Rhi needs me.
“Rhi!” I call down. “I’m staying up here, okay? My dad has walked me through it. I’m going to get a strap down to you and haul you up.”
“Okay,” she calls, voice shaky but hopeful. “Okay.”
I grab the tow strap from the truck, knot it to the paracord, and tie the other end around the pine’s trunk. My hands are trembling, but I test the tension—it holds. Solid.
“Alright,” I shout. “I’m lowering it now. You’re going to loop it under your arms, right below your shoulders, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice echoes from below. “I—I think I’ve got it.”
“Good. Tighten it. I’m going to pull on three.”
I brace my feet, wrap the rope around my forearm for leverage. “One… two… three!”
The line goes taut. She groans but the strap holds. Inch by inch, I haul, legs straining, every muscle burning. Snow and dust cascade down, but the ground stays firm.
“Almost there, Rhi. You’re doing great.”
I haul her up the last few feet, grab her wrist, and PULL until she’s sprawled across the snow beside me.
Safe. Out. ALIVE.
We lie there, gasping, shaking.
Then I’m rolling over, pulling her into my arms, crushing her against my chest so hard she probably can’t breathe, but I can’t let go, I can’t— “You’re okay,” I’m saying into her hair, and my voice is wrecked. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“You did it.” Her voice is muffled against my jacket. “Carter, you did it.”
My hands are shaking. I’m shaking.
My whole body is shaking because I almost lost her.
I almost fucking lost her.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, and her eyes are wet, and there’s dirt on her face and blood on her cheek, andshe’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “You saved me,” she whispers.
“I couldn’t—” My voice breaks. “I couldn’t lose you.”Not you too.
“You didn’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”
13
CARTER
“You got her out?” Dad asks immediately when I call him back.
“Yeah. She’s safe. Little shaken up, but safe.”
“And you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Carter.” His voice is thick. “I’m proud of you, son. So damn proud.”
I have to swallow hard to speak. “Thanks, Dad. For talking me through it.”
