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“What?” I demand, fresh panic threatening to strangle me once again.
“I don’t have any service,” Leo growls, frustrated, and his admission hits me like a second blow. “Fucking phone,” he mutters almost imperceptibly.
Tears well up, blurring my vision as my fear overcomes my composure.
Like an animal caught in a trap, I’m desperate to do anything I can think of to escape. And right now, I feel far too vulnerable just hanging upside down. With a grunt, I attempt a midair situp, reaching for the roots wrapped around my leg. But the jarring motion ripples dangerously up my leg. A sharp pain shoots through my ankle, forcing a cry from my lips.
“What’s wrong?” Leo demands, his tone sharp with worry.
“I… tried to pull myself up,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Stay still, Tia. I’m coming down.”
My heart skips a beat as I wonder how that could possibly be a good idea. If he comes down, won’t we both get stuck?
But before I can unlock my jaw to say anything, Leo’s fine Italian leather dress shoes appear along the cliffside. My stomach flip-flops as he free-climbs down to my level with shocking dexterity. Somehow, the term “free-climb” seems too casual for the perilous act he’s performing, navigating the sheer face with an ease that makes my head spin.
His fluidity astounds me, his graceful descent momentarily distracting me from my predicament. His movements are like a dance against the craggy canvas, each foothold and handhold a deliberate step toward salvation. And the speed with which he does it belies an impressive confidence.
Within minutes, he settles onto a narrow ledge mere feet below my head. I couldn’t see it before, and it looks just wide enough to support him. I try not to look past him to the terrifying drop below, but when I catch sight of his heel just inches away from the sheer drop, it makes me want to throw up all over again.
He turns to me, his hazel eyes assessing my situation in a matter of seconds, and a rush of gratitude floods my body to know I’m not entirely alone. Then he steps forward to the edge of the ledge.
Strong arms snake beneath my back, lifting me as he turns me upright at the same time.
Heady relief loosens the painful knot in my chest as my back finds his muscular chest, a rock more solid than the crumbling cliff we’re clinging to. His hold allows my circulation to rebalance, the excess blood draining from my brain and leaving me lightheaded.
I grip his forearm like my life depends on it.
“I’ve gotcha,” he assures me, one powerful arm like iron around my waist.
He digs in his pocket with the other hand. Then he flicks out a pocket knife, opening it in one fluid motion. Just the sight of the steel makes my heart flutter fearfully—an irrational reaction, considering he climbed down the side of a cliff to come help me.
“You carry a knife in your suit pocket?” I ask, my tone incredulous.
“We’re clinging to a cliffside, and that’s the question you want to ask?” he counters.
He leans forward, reaching up the length of my leg to saw at the rotting tree. With skillful precision, Leo cuts away the roots ensnaring my foot, freeing me from the precarious grip.
I gasp as my legs freefall for a moment, and my muscles tense instinctually. But Leo has me so securely in his embrace that I’m in no danger of falling. The warmth of his broad chest and the solid ground suddenly resting beneath me are reassuring, a stark contrast to the perilous spot I hung from moments ago.
The ledge is barely large enough to accommodate both of us, and I find myself grateful for Leo’s solid presence. The proximity of the cliff’s edge sends shivers down my spine. It’s a fragile sanctuary, one I would love to get off of, but I don’t see how. Unless you’re Spider-Man, like Leo apparently is, there’s no way up or down.
He sets me gently on my feet, his hold loosening slightly as he allows me to take my own weight. And for a moment, I’m uncertain whether the solid ground beneath me can hold both of us. But I try to stand on my own, wanting to give Leo as much freedom to maneuver as he might need.
The attempt to stand proves excruciating. A sharp cry escapes my lips as the pain in my ankle flares. I wobble dangerously as the weight of my body on my injured leg threatens to send me tumbling once again. Then Leo’s there, his arm a reassuring presence as he grasps me firmly, stabilizing me once again.
“Thanks,” I breathe, my heart hammering at the second close call I’ve had within a matter of minutes.
Rather than answering, Leo assesses the situation with a pragmatic calm. Closing his knife, he slips it back into his pocket. His eyes scan the overhang I fell from, the rotting tree that caught me, then they move to the sheer cliffside. “Do you know how to climb?”
“I mean, I’ve climbed trees before, but with this ankle… I don’t know how far I’ll get.” My voice trails off, uncertainty clouding my words as I try not to cry.
Leo nods, a silent acknowledgment of the obstacles before us. Then, without hesitation, he starts to remove his shirt, tie, and belt. He does it one-handed, keeping the other firmly on my arm so I won’t topple over the edge.
The urgency in his movements is a stark reminder that time is not our ally. And though I can stop to appreciate the muscles he’s revealing to put his clothes to use, I’m just grateful he’s willing to sacrifice the fine apparel to save my life.
He fashions a makeshift rope and ties it securely to the belt around my waist, then gives the contraption a tug to ensure the knots will hold. Leo’s eyes meet mine, and the gravity of our situation hangs in the air between us.
