Page 70 of Mountain Challenge

“Hey, mate.” Ry pulled a plastic chair up to the bed. He eyed the glass and the straw on the night table. “Would you like some water?”

Hugo shook his head, his expression taking on a grimace that he quickly erased. “How are Isla and Laura?” Of course, that would be the first thing he’d ask about.

“Laura is doing better. She’s stable, and the neurologist is optimistic she’ll make a full recovery.”

A hint of relief crossed Hugo’s eyes. “That’s good. And Isla?”

“Isla’s physically okay.” He wondered whether to tell his friend the truth or keep it from him, then decided to be honest with him. “I’m worried about what Getty did to her. She’s still not talking about it much.”

“Give her time. Let her know you’re there for her.”

Ry nodded, sitting down on the hard plastic chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a hit.” Hugo tried to smile, but his face was etched in pain.

“Are you in pain?”

Hugo shook his head. “I think they’re pumping me full of the good stuff.” He paused for a long instant. “They got the bullet out, though they still don’t know what that means.”

“I know.” Ry’s Adam’s apple moved up and down, but there was no getting rid of the ball in his throat. “I’m sorry, Hugo. So damn sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I wish …” He couldn’t even finish the thought.

“It’s okay, Ry. I’ve had some time to think. Whatever happens, it was worth it.”

This time, Ry didn’t bother hiding the tears that rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. They wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. I owe you everything.”

Hugo frowned. “Stop. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I love her, Hugo.”

“Shit, I know you do. We’ve all known that for some time.” Hugo sank back further into the pillow. Whatever he said about the drugs being pumped into his system, he was in pain. “You should go tell her. And get some sleep. You look like shit.”

Isla

Isla looked at her watch impatiently. They’d said the doctor would be back to sign her release papers, but that was hours ago, and so far, nobody had come in. She was sitting in the room’s single armchair, so ready to go. If only somebody would come and take her IV out.

But she wasn’t about to complain. The nurses had wheeled her in to see Laura earlier that morning, and her friend had beenawake for the first time. So, Isla wasn’t going to complain about anything—maybe ever again.

“You’re dressed already,” Ry said, popping his head into the room. “How are you feeling?” He’d gone home in the early morning to shower and change but, judging by the black circles under his eyes, he hadn’t bothered to take a nap. She wondered when the last time he’d slept was.

“How’s Hugo?” Ry had told her about the surgery the night before—afterit had taken place. And she understood—he was worried about her, she could read it in his eyes, so he didn’t want to worry her. But he didn’t realize that shehadto worry about Hugo and Laura. That she would only be okay once she knewtheywere okay.

She wasn’t that interested in Miles Getty’s future. Back on the mountain, he’d been loaded—still unconscious—onto a separate helicopter.That, she was grateful for. She didn’t think she could have managed, locked in the same enclosed space together with that man again. She knew—or believed, anyway—that Getty would go to prison for what he’d done. For what he’d tried to do. Because there was no doubt in her mind that he would have killed her and Laura, just like he’d killed Richard.

As Ry kneeled in front of her, she got a glimpse of his torn knuckles, which were starting to heal. She would heal, too. It was just going to take a bit of time. Because every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that freezing basement, watching her best friend fade away, feeling afraid and weak and powerless. The feeling receded somewhat when she was awake, but it was still there, in the back of her mind, a gnawing thought she couldn’t get rid of. She didn’t want to feel powerless ever again.

“He’s resting.” Ry took a deep breath before continuing. “They got the bullet out. The doctor is moderately optimistic about the outcome of the surgery, but we won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down.”

“We won’t know if he will ever walk again,” Isla said. She didn’t want him to cushion the blow for her.

“Yes.” Ry’s brows were furrowed in pain. Isla took his hand in hers. She knew he had feelings for her—not just because he’d gone to the end of the world to find her, risking his own life to do so, but because of the way he looked at her. The same way she imagined she looked at him. And yet, there was so much they were hiding from each other. This wasn’t good. She didn’t want this. “He didn’t rape me,” she said, suddenly. Ry didn’t even breathe, but his hand tightened around hers, giving her strength. “He said he was going to. He hurt me, and said—terrible things. But he didn’t rape me.” Her voice cracked. “And I don’t know if you want to hear this, or if you think I should be talking to?—“

His arms came around her, enveloping in the safest hug. “I want to hear everything that happened, Isla. Everything you felt. And that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also talk to a professional, but it does mean I’m here for you, every step of the way. There is nothing you can’t tell me.” His expression went bleak. “And if you blame me for what happened, Isla, I … I understand. Getty kidnapped you because of me. I’m to blame for what happened to you and Laura.”

Isla laughed out loud, his mouth curling up in surprise. “What? Are you crazy?”

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