Her head lifted. Found him.
“I’m going to talk you through this. Trust the harness. If you slip, it’ll catch you.”
She nodded but didn’t move.
“Come down to the last rung before the gap. You’re going to rappel past the gap. I’ll guide you.”
Another nod. Still not moving.
The wind tugged at his back. Rain ran into his eyes. They were exposed out here. Visible from the tower catwalks. From the deck above. Every second they stayed on this ladder was a second someone could spot them.
Push too hard and she’d lock up. He had to give her something to focus on.
“Jen,” he said. “Look at my hands. See how I’m gripping? Thumb wrapped. Full palm contact. That’s what keeps you on. Not arm strength. Grip.”
“Okay.”
“Now come down to the gap. One rung at a time.”
At last she moved and reached the last rung before the gap.
“Good. Remember, you’re clipped. The rope will hold you. Now lean back. Let the harness take your weight.”
She gave a violent nod, her cheeks grayish. “I can’t?—”
The wobble in her voice punched through the rain, cinching his chest tight—someone losing the fight against panic, alone.
“Yes, you can. Lean back. I’ve got you.”
After a moment of hesitation, she leaned. The rope went taut. The harness held.
“See? You’re fine. Now walk backward down the support rail. Small steps. Don’t think about the gap. Just focus on my voice.”
She climbed. One step. Two.
The wind gusted hard. She swung, gasped. “Wyatt?—”
“You’re doing great. Grip the rope. Control the swing. You’ve got this.”
Her boots found the resumed ladder. She grabbed the rungs as if they were the only solid thing in the world.
“I’m okay.” Her voice was high-pitched over the keen of the wind.
“I see you. Keep coming with me.”
Wyatt descended the last few rungs to the platform. Although that term was a little generous. More like a maintenance ledge bolted to the rig’s exterior. Maybe six feet by four. Barely enough room for two people and the equipment housing.
He dropped onto it. The platform swayed slightly under his weight. No cover. No exit except the ladder.
Terrible place for a fight.
Jen reached the bottom. He caught her by the harness and pulled her onto the platform against him. She was breathing hard. Soaked through. Shaking from cold, adrenaline or both.
He shouldn’t notice the way she fit against him. But his body logged every point of contact anyway, traitor that it was.
“You did good.” He held her, giving her time for the shakes to pass.
She nodded as if she couldn’t find words yet.
