“Paxton!” I shouted, unable to take another second of not knowing. God, if he wasn’t breathing, if I’d lost my only chance— “He’s alive,” Wilder said.
The Sherpas split, and as Landon’s face came into view, I hit my knees.
“Rachel,” Wilder said softly, taking a second to look up at me. “He’s alive. He’s breathing.”
Thank you. Thank you. Thank—
The snow was red along his upper body as they dug farther.
“Where is he bleeding from?” I asked, my fists clenching and unclenching with the need to act.
“I can’t tell yet,” Wilder answered. “Ready?” he asked Bobby.
“Let’s get him.”
As they struggled, Leah and I unfolded and snapped into place the stretcher that Little John handed to us.
“Gabe is loaded,” he said quietly. “Need a hand?” he asked louder, toward Wilder.
“We’re in position,” Wilder said.
It took a few of them, but they lifted Landon to the surface and laid him flat on the stretcher.
“His arm,” I whispered, seeing the blood seep from the fabric of his coat.
“We’ve got to move!” Wilder yelled.
I got one heart-stopping look at Landon’s pale face before they carried him off. A flood of adrenaline swept through me, bringing me the energy to run after them—terror beating back exhaustion.
“There’s only room for two more,” the pilot said. “One up front with me, and there’s a very small space between them back there.”
“I’m going,” I told Wilder, daring him to challenge me.
His eyes flickered toward Leah, and I saw the battle rage there.
“I’m fine,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “Pax, go. You’ve got to get help for them.”
“I can’t leave you on this mountain,” he said, grimacing.
She cupped his face. “You can and you will. Landon needs you. Gabe needs you. Rachel needs you. I’ll take the next flight out.”
His face contorted, but he nodded. “Get another chopper up here,” he ordered the pilot.
“It’ll be another ten grand,” the pilot said.
“I don’t give a fuck, just get it done.” He kissed Leah quickly and turned to me, but there was no anger or judgment that I’d just taken Leah’s seat. “You’ll have to take care of them until we can get down.”
I nodded.
Leah hugged me. “Go.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, squeezing her tight. “I just took your seat.”
“No. If Pax were hurt, that would be different. Landon is hurt and that is your seat. I would have done the same. Now go.”
I hugged her again, then let go to climb into the helicopter, careful as I scrambled over Gabe to sit between the two stretchers.
Wilder passed me the medic bag and headphones, and we were airborne before I could question what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.
After slipping the headphones over my ears so I could hear him on comms, I opened the bag and then looked down at my two patients. “Get pressure on Landon’s arm,” Wilder ordered.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and silently begged Landon to forgive me as I cut off the right arm of his favorite boarding jacket. The cut was long and jagged down the inside of his arm, but it wasn’t pulsing in time with his heartbeat, so it wasn’t arterial. I put the dressing against the wound and pressed.
I kept my eyes far away from his face. The moment I let myself actually realize that this was Landon, that we’d come a hairsbreadth from losing him and still might, I knew I’d be useless.
“Good,” Wilder said, turning around to watch me. “Little John says most of the bones are broken in Gabe’s legs, and at least one in his arm. Not sure about his ribs.”
“Can you reach?” I gestured to Landon.
He contorted his position, twisting to keep pressure on Landon’s arm as I looked Gabe over.
“He’s a mess.”
“Check his stomach.”
I removed the solar blanket, unzipped his jacket, and then lifted his shirt over his belly. Then I spread my hands and lightly pushed. “He’s warm, but it’s a little hard, Wilder,” I said softly.
“Fuck,” he swore. “Okay. There’s nothing we can do from here. We just have to pray he makes it to Kathmandu.”
I turned back to Landon and took over compression on his arm. Finally, my eyes drifted over the material of his jacket to the stubble on his face, to his closed eyes.
My fingers traced the line of his jaw, and then I laid my hand flat against his face, trying to absorb some of his chill. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his stubbled cheek. “Just live through this, and I’ll think about us, okay? I’m not guaranteeing anything, but I’ll…I’ll think. But I can’t do anything if you don’t live.”
“He loves you,” Wilder said, looking down over us. “I don’t think he ever stopped.”
My eyes squeezed shut against the emotions that assaulted me at those words. The hope, the sweet feeling of home, all of it that I couldn’t let in, couldn’t remember how good they felt, because it would be so much harder when he left me again.
“All the girls—” Wilder started.
I locked gazes with the only man I’d ever cheated on. “Don’t.”
“They were substitutes. You have to know that. I knew it. He knew it, and I think every single one of those girls knew it. He never got over you, Rachel. Never. He never stopped loving you.”
“Love was never our problem.”
“Love is the best place to start.”
“Listen to you. You spend three months with my best friend and already you’re an expert on love and how to make it work.”
He flinched. “You spent three months with my best friend and it’s lasted years without being near each other. Why the fuck do you think I went to all this trouble to bring you out here?”
“Can we just not do this?” I asked.
“Hell no. I have you trapped for another half hour, and he’s out cold. I’m taking full advantage of this.”
I snorted. “If she didn’t love you so much…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but I saw the nervousness in his eyes, the set of his jaw as he looked over our friends. “I’m just saying that everything happens for a reason, Rachel. You’re here. He’s here. Life is showing you what it could be like with him”—his gaze flickered to Landon—“or without him.”
I didn’t want to think about that—a life without Landon. Not that I wanted him in my life, wrecking what peace I’d managed to attain, but I couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t exist.
I checked over both of them as the flight continued. Landon’s pulse was strong, the warmth returning to his face, but Gabe’s was weakening.
Through the comms, I heard the pilot making arrangements in Nepali and assumed it was with the hospital. As we approached the small landing pad, I knew I had to have been right.
“They are expecting us,” he said.
My nerves fired back to life as we touched down on the pad, and the doors were opened by medical personnel waiting with gurneys. They took Gabe out first.
“Do you speak English?” Wilder yelled over the noise of the rotor blades to one of the doctors.
“Yes!” he shouted back.
“Avalanche. Broken bones, we think internal bleeding, and his pulse is thready. His name is Gabe Darro.”