Page 24 of Swept for Forever
“Yeah, yeah. You’re very talented.”
The dog practically smirked before hopping onto a narrow ledge like she was born for this.
I shifted my focus back to Autumn and the steep slope ahead. If only she had four legs, Lulu’s mountain-goat balance, and none of the hesitation. But she was human—tired, feverish, and vulnerable. And if I was going to get her out, she had to do one thing.
I barely knew her, but she’d pushed herself past breaking, all to prove she could handle it. Maybe she wanted to be Superwoman. Maybe she already was.
And I trusted her.
Not to climb, not to haul herself up on her own, but to hold on tome.
If she went limp, if she panicked, if she lost herself in exhaustion, she’d be dead weight. I could force us up, but the harness wasn’t built for two people who weren’t working together.
She had to stay present.
And I had to believe she would.
Once again, I turned my shirt into makeshift gear, tethering myself to the harness she wore. Then I tipped her chin up.
“Autumn, I need you to listen carefully.”
Her lashes fluttered. Dazed. But still with me. Still fighting.
“I’m going to get us up there. But you have to hold on. Tight. You don’t have to climb; just don’t go dead weight on the rope. Can you do that?”
She didn’t say a word. She just gave a small nod—shaky, but sure. And in her eyes, I saw it. She wasn’t checking out. She was in this. With me.
“Let’s do this!” I tightened the straps, locked the carabiners, and wrapped my hand around the rope.
With her tucked securely against my chest, we moved up. Her breath hitched as I pulled her close, her arms weak but curling inside the harness.
I wasn’t waiting for her to find her strength. Iwasher strength.
I gripped the rope, bracing my stance before testing the tension. Thank God she had nothing but a small crossbody bag. If we’d been weighed down by her big pack too, wherever it was, this climb wouldn’t be happening.
It had started to drizzle. No big deal. I just needed the downpour to wait until we got to the top.
I kept moving. It was not a careful ascent. Ihauledus up, muscle by muscle, grit scraping through every inch. The rope wasn’t doing the work. The harness wasn’t lifting us.
I was.
And she was with me. God, she was with me. One good arm, one torn-up leg, and still she fought beside me as she’d promised. Not deadweight, never that. She pushed when I pulled and moved when I shifted.
She murmured something, maybe a grunt, maybe my name, but it didn’t matter. She was still fighting. And so was I.
By the time I heaved us over the ridge, my arms were toast, my back burning, but we were up.
I collapsed onto solid ground, rolling just enough to keep her safe.
Lulu appeared a second later, practically prancing.
I gave her a look. “Show-off.”
She licked my face. I shoved at her wet fur, half out of breath, half relieved.
I had three priorities.
One: Get Autumn out of immediate danger. Done.
