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“Woo whoo!” Cameron shouts, his celebration echoing around us.
“Shhhh!” I chastise. People have to be able to hear that.
“Nobody cares, Brooklyn. They probably think it’s a wolf or something.”
“There are wolves out here?” I crane my neck as much as my clinging body will allow only to find Cameron’s amused smirk.
“Bears too.” He shrugs.
“Cameron Hass, I swear to God if you get me eaten by a bear—”
“I’d go in after you, Brooky. Don’t worry.” He pats my back, his touch friendlier now. I miss the concerned, intimate version from a second ago.
“And don’t call me Brooky, dammit!” I’d swat at him if I weren’t afraid to let go.
He simply laughs and goes to work hooking the next rung of hooks together and adding his own into the mix.
“You know you’re only about a couch height from the ground right now, right?” he teases.
“Cameron, I don’t even climb stairs right now, I’m so afraid of falling.”
His hand finds my spine again, this time soft against my body, reassuring and calm.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and I can sense he’s genuine.
I’m freezing, but I think it’s because I’m so afraid. Cameron may as well be enjoying a summer day. He doesn’t even have goose bumps. If his breath weren’t foggy, I’d swear he was living in an entirely different climate than I am.
“I’m going to be right behind you. You literally won’t be able to fall because any slip will send you into me, and I’m not falling,” he says.
“You said you fall all the time!”
His body rumbles at my back, his chest touching me, making me instantly warm.
“I meant other times. Right now? I won’t fall.” He leans in close enough for our lips to touch, our gazes mingling with his promise.
I give a single nod and whimper a timid okay.
“Your next move is right here,” he says, lifting himself up easily, his feet on either side of mine, legs stretched wide so his entire body cages me. He glides his palm up the rock from where my fingertips end to the next ridge.
“This one is bigger, so the grip will be easier,” he says.
I nod again.
“Your foot is aiming for this step, right here,” he says, dropping his hand to a rock shelf that cuts just below my waist.
“That’s bigger than before,” I protest.
“Yep.”
I blink through my stare at what feels impossible. He doesn’t offer anything more than affirmation, and I appreciate it. He’s not going to give me outs or help me make excuses. He’s going to push me. Like I should be pushing myself.
“All right. On three again?” I ask.
“That’s my girl.”
His girl.
Cameron counts again, and I ready my muscles. His body shifts as I work my body up the cliff, his hands and feet somehow sticking to the sides as if he were a magnet, or some comic book hero. My face warms with the blood rushing to my skin as I grit my teeth and growl my way up the side of the rock.
