by Kait Nolan
What kind of man did that make him?
On a sigh, Sebastian scrubbed both hands over his face. “Shit. I screwed up.”
Harrison offered a wry smile. “Well, I mean, in your defense, you’ve never had these feelings before. This whole being in love thing can be tough.”
“He’s not wrong. You wouldn’t be the first one to make an assumption and take off without leaving a forwarding address.”
“So to speak,” Harrison added.
They shared one of those private smiles that made Sebastian’s gut ache.
“The point is,” Ivy continued, “misunderstandings happen, but they can be forgiven. Because love.”
“You just gotta man up, track her down, and tell her you’re sorry.” Harrison slipped an arm around Ivy’s waist.
She tipped her head to his shoulder. “Don’t let her wait, Sebastian. Go find your girl.”
Instinct had her following the path she’d taken with Sebastian that first day. She wanted that top-of-the-world view, to make her and her problems feel small. Right now it felt as if they’d crush her. By the time she and Ginger hit the base of the mountain trail, some of the tension in her chest had eased and her mind began to process more than adrenaline and temper.
Had she lost everything? At the very least, she’d done irreparable damage to her relationship with her father. Probably with her mother, too, as Rosalind always sided with her husband. And Sebastian… Her father hadn’t been entirely wrong. He’d been part of the impetus for all of this. Where did they stand?
How could he possibly be so quick to assume she’d go back on her word? She could understand how he’d thought that in the moment, but he hadn’t even been willing to hear her out. His default had been to retreat instead of working through it. What did that say about their ability to weather the storm? If they couldn’t come back from this, then he wasn’t the man she believed him to be. The idea of that—that she’d upended her entire world for an illusion—made her ache in whole new ways. Was a life being true to herself really worth it without him in it?
At the fork in the trail, Ginger pulled left and Laurel let the mare have her head. For long minutes, she lost herself in the bunch and flex of the horse beneath her as she picked her way up the rocky slope. As the trees began to thin, Laurel looked out, expecting to see the first hints of the view, but nothing looked familiar. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.
“It’s fine. We just need to make a U-turn and head back down.”
Ginger’s ears swiveled back at the sound of her voice.
The trail was too narrow to reverse. “Okay, we’ll just keep going. As soon as we get to a spot big enough to turn around, we will.”
The mare quivered beneath her. She needed to get her own nerves under control so as not to make things worse. “Easy. Easy girl. We’re gonna get out of this and then go on back. I’ll give you a nice, long massage with that nubby brush you like so much.”
Thunder boomed so close Laurel felt the vibration in the air. Ginger screamed and lurched, scrambling up the rocky path at breakneck speed. Laurel lost a stirrup, but maintained her seat, gripping tight with her knees as she tried to regain control. But Ginger was too far gone to heed any commands. Incoherent prayers tumbled through Laurel’s head as she held on for dear life.
Another clap of thunder shook the mountain, and Ginger reared. With a scream, Laurel slipped from the saddle, falling, falling. She landed with a bone-jarring crunch at the edge of the rocky trail. The ground collapsed beneath her, her lower half sliding over the side.
She scrabbled for purchase, fingers digging, feet flailing. She snagged a spindly sapling growing out of the rock and jerked to a halt, jarring her shoulder. On a sob, she sucked in a breath of relief. Shoving back the panic, she reached up to grab the tree with both hands, pedaling her feet to search for some kind of footing.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
But her feet found nothing, and as her body continued to thrash, the roots pulled free, and she dropped like a stone off the side of the mountain.
Chapter 12
His girl. As he drove back to the farm, he sure as hell hoped that was still accurate. Maybe with an apology, this would be their first fight and not their last.
The sky stretched out in an endless gray sheet. He didn’t like the look of the clouds boiling above the hills. That storm would be cresting the mountain soon. It would hit the valley and the farm not long after that. He needed to get the horses fed and rounded up, and prepare to sleep light tonight in case Ginger lost her shit. With that in mind, he pulled up in front of the barn.
Almost as soon as he stopped, people were spilling out of the house. The tension slammed into him, setting him on alert even before Lawrence Maxwell stormed over.
“You! This is all your fault.”
So Laurel had finally told him. Good for her.
Pocketing his keys, Sebastian kept his expression placid. “Excuse me?”
Logan tried to step between them. “Dad, calm down.”
Lawrence ignored him, instead stepping into Sebastian’s space and jabbing him in the shoulder with one finger. “She’s never been reckless a day in her life and two weeks with you and suddenly she’s throwing away everything she’s worked for. And for what?”
It took all Sebastian’s self-restraint not to dislocate that finger and drop the man to his knees, so there wasn’t any left to hold back his temper. Straightening to his full height, he loomed over the older man. “For a chance to fucking breathe,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what she’s been going through these past few years? She’s bent over backward, pushed herself until she’s had panic attacks, all in the name of trying to earn your approval—which you ought to be giving her either way because she’s goddamned amazing, no matter what she chooses to do.”
“She’s throwing her life away, and I won’t have it.”
“It’s not your decision to make. She’s a grown woman, who’s more than capable of making her own decisions—or would be if you’d stop manipulating your kids by only giving them attention when they’re doing what you want. A parent is supposed to fucking be there, be supportive, and actually listen and give a shit what their kid wants, not try to turn them into a carbon copy or shove their own agenda down their kid’s throat.”
An angry flush crept up the other man’s face. “How dare you presume—”
“For God’s sake, Dad!” Logan snapped. “Even now, you’re more interested in winning this argument and making your point than in what’s important. Sebastian, Laurel is missing.”
“What?”
“She hasn’t come back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Laurel. She was upset, and she went out for a ride more than an hour ago. She hasn’t come back.”
Thunder rolled across the valley.
Oh no. Oh fuck. He knew. Even before he heard the sound of pounding hooves, he knew.
Ginger came flying through the north pasture, stirrups bouncing, saddle empty.
As the bottom fell out of his world, Sebastian moved to intercept her, waving his arms. She nearly mowed him down, but reared at the last moment. Darting in, he snagged the trailing reins, moving with her when she shied.
“Whoa. Whoa. Easy. Settle.”
He slowly reeled her in until he could get his hands on her quivering neck. Her eyes wheeled in terror and her breath sawed in and out like a bellows. Despite the panic blooming in his own chest, he kept his tone soft and even, soothing her until she stood still long enough for him to check her legs and feet. There were several nicks along her fetlocks and stones in her hooves. If she didn’t come up lame tomorrow, it would be a miracle.
“Logan, saddle Brego.”
He was already moving toward the barn. “Who else?”
“No one else.”
“What? But we have to find her. She could be hurt or…”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Slowly, Sebastian led Ginger toward the barn. “I�
��m going after her. But there’s a storm coming, and it’ll be dark in half an hour. I’m not having any more of the horses or inexperienced riders injured by going out in it.”
“You’re not having it? What gives you the right to make that call? That’s my daughter out there!” Lawrence demanded. But there was fear underneath the anger now.
Sebastian resisted the urge to point out that if he’d been less of a dick, Laurel wouldn’t be out there at all. The same could easily be said of him, too. “Because I’m an Army Ranger. I’m trained for search and rescue. None of the rest of you are.”
Turning his back on Laurel’s father, he narrowed his focus on the task in front of him, clearing the stones and stripping off the saddle and bridle from the terrified mare. “Okay, girl. We’re done. You’re safe.” He turned her loose, watching her run straight to the three-walled shelter.
“Athena, call Xander. Have him put search and rescue on stand-by.” Not waiting to see if she moved, he bolted for his cabin. His mind spun with scenarios for how Ginger ended up back here without her rider and almost none of them were good. He prayed Laurel had just dismounted to check the mare’s feet and lost hold of the reins when she spooked. It was the only variation he could envision that didn’t involve her getting thrown and sustaining a multitude of injuries. Shrugging into rain gear, he grabbed the pack he kept stocked and ready for search and rescue missions. He’d only been called out a handful of times since he’d joined the local SAR team, and that had been for simple, successful searches. This was a whole other level of fear because this was personal.
Be okay, damn it. Wherever you are, just hang on. I’m coming.
In less than five minutes, he was back, shifting supplies and bedroll from the pack into his saddle bags.
“Are you packing to camp?” Lawrence asked incredulously.
“If I have to. I don’t know what I’m going to find, and if I’m on the mountain after dark, it won’t be safe to bring my horse back down.”
Athena hurried up from the house. “Xander is mobilizing the team.”
“Let’s pray we don’t need them.” But the temperature was dropping and the rain would be here any minute. Sebastian swung into the saddle. “Take the 4x4 and the truck and check everything you can drive to. I’ll be checking the places you can’t drive. My radio is on, though there may be interference from the storm. Let’s keep each other posted, as best as we can. If I find her after dark and can’t get through, I’ve got a flare gun.”
“What else can we do?” White-faced, Laurel’s mother wrapped both arms around her middle.
Sebastian didn’t have any softness or false hope. “Pray.”
Digging his heels into Brego’s flanks, he galloped off to find the woman he loved.
Everything hurt.
Why the hell did she feel like she’d gone three rounds with Mike Tyson? And why was it so damned cold?
Opening her eyes, Laurel frowned, her brain not immediately processing the field of gray clouding her vision. Blinking slowly, she tried to move. Pain lanced through her shoulder, and her skull pounded like a timpani drum.
What the hell?
Thunder boomed all too close, jolting her fully back to consciousness. Ginger. The storm. She’d been thrown.
Oh my God.
Urgency beat in her blood as she scrambled to her knees. One hand slipped. On instinct, she threw herself in the opposite direction to keep from face planting, and saw the drop. Terror stole her ability to scream, but she scrambled back, pressing as tightly to the rock face as possible. By some miracle, she’d landed on a narrow ledge of rock instead of plummeting all the way to the bottom. Her perch wasn’t more than about three feet deep. If she’d rolled the other way or slipped just a few feet further to the left or right, she’d have missed it entirely.
Lungs seizing, she fought back the panic. Panic wouldn’t get her out of this situation.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Thunder rolled again. She couldn’t stay here. The storm would hit any minute now.
Still moderating her breathing, Laurel assessed her injuries. Her shoulder seemed to be the worst of it. Careful rolling of the joint proved it was wrenched, not dislocated. She definitely had a multitude of bruises and abrasions, and obviously she’d struck her head, but nothing seemed to be broken. She could climb.
A single look back up the way she’d come disabused her of that notion. The trail was at least fifteen or twenty feet up. The rock face itself was almost vertical, with no easy handholds. Maybe, if she had some kind of a rope, but she had nothing. There was no sign of Ginger, and Laurel could only hope the mare had made it safely off the mountain and that she’d run home to alert someone.
“Help!” She shouted it, and her voice echoed off the walls of the stone. “Help me!”
The sky answered with a bullwhip crack of thunder and split open, pelting her with freezing rain. She was soaked in less than a minute, chattering in under two. How long did it take to die of exposure? Did anyone even realize she was gone?
Maybe she could climb or slide down to safer ground below. She scooted forward just far enough to see over the lip. The only way down was a long drop. Because she had to do something, she kept shouting between rumbles of thunder. But no one came. Who could hear her way up here? As darkness fell, the futility of her situation had tears coursing down her cheeks, mixing with the freezing rain.
If she’d handled everything better, she wouldn’t be in this mess. If she’d come clean to her father in a calm, rational presentation, she wouldn’t have lost her temper—probably. She definitely wouldn’t have fought with Sebastian. And she wouldn’t have ridden out alone. Regret weighed on her as much as her sodden clothes.
There’d be no chance to fix any of it. Even if people were out looking for her, who could search in all this? They wouldn’t even know where to look. At best, she’d be hypothermic well before morning. At worst…she wasn’t quite ready to think about the worst. Because the worst meant never seeing Sebastian again. Never telling him she loved him.
She wasn’t ready to give up yet.
Please, God. Please, show me the way. Don’t let this be the end.
But as the cold seeped into her very marrow, no answer appeared. The hands she’d shoved under her armpits had gone past cold, past pain, and into numb. So had her feet. Even if she’d wanted to risk climbing in the dark, she’d never be able to hold on to anything now. The rain continued to drum, stinging her cheeks. Then she stopped feeling even that as her body slid into what she knew was dangerously cold territory. Was she even shivering anymore? Laurel couldn’t tell. It got hard to keep her eyes open, hard to keep track of the endless, wet night.
When her body slid, tipping over to one side, she couldn’t even catch herself. There was no muscle control. No more will. Not even more sense of cold. She was past that. In some dark recess of her mind, a tiny voice was screaming for her to wake up, sit up, do something to get the blood flowing, to generate warmth. But she was beyond able to listen.
Maybe freezing wouldn’t be the worst way to go.
Laurel.
Her brain was shouting at her again, louder this time. Deeper, too. When had her inner voice started to sound like Sebastian? She’d like to dream of him as she went. She’d read somewhere that freezing wasn’t such a bad way to die. That you just went to sleep and didn’t wake up again.
“Laurel!” The voice was louder this time. That definitely sounded like Sebastian. And he sounded…close? But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
With great effort, she pried her eyes open in time to see the bright arc of a shooting star. Was it lighting her way to heaven?
She listened, straining to hear her name again, but there was nothing. Closing her eyes again, she tried to find her way into the dream. At least there she could say what was in her heart.
“Laurel! Jesus God.” And then he was there, her beautiful, badass angel, wrapping her in his arms. Laurel curled into him, wanting
to chase this fantasy. The fantasy was warm.
“Baby. Come on. Wake up. You need to look at me. Christ, please wake up.” Dream Sebastian was freaking out. That didn’t seem right. Neither did the stroke of pain along her cheek.
Forcing her eyes open one last time, she saw him. It was dark, and the outline was vague, but she’d know him anywhere. He stroked her face again.
“Ow,” she groaned.
He made a noise like a wounded animal, and suddenly she was shifted as he pulled her tighter against him. Because he was here. Holy hell, he was really here. He’d come after her. The heart that had slowed with the cold began to thud painfully in her chest.
Sebastian.
She tried to say his name but her lips wouldn’t form the word. The only sound that escaped was a whimper.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby. I’ve gotcha. I promise”
Beyond exhausted, her eyes fell shut again, and she sank deeper into the black.
The next time it receded, she felt the uneven rhythm of a horse. Mustering the last of her energy, she cracked her eyes open again.
She was on a horse. Tied to the saddle. Up ahead, a dark figure had hold of the reins, leading them up a rocky path. Sebastian. She recognized his gait. Her ears hummed with the silence, but for the clop of hooves. It was no longer raining. White swirled in the air around them. Snow?
Were they really getting a white Christmas?
Something about that struck her as funny, and she began to laugh. The sound came out more like a weak, coughing groan, but it was enough to get Sebastian’s attention.
“Laurel? Are you awake?”
He was beside her in a moment, one hand on her leg. She saw it, but she couldn’t feel the pressure. What did that mean?
Weaving in the saddle, she had a hard time focusing. “Sebastian? Am I alive?”
He made a choked sort noise in his throat and reached up to touch her face. “Yeah. And I’m gonna make sure you stay that way.”