Page 74 of Burnin' For You

He’d all but condemned her to die.

Reuben leaned over and lost it. His stomach emptied, his arms weak, he collapsed into the cool water.

But—she could be alive up there. The thought pulsed inside him, a fragile hope that had him finding his legs and searching for a place that didn’t have an overhang, where he could ascend.

He’d never been good at rock climbing, but the primal urge to get up the face pushed him forward, his hands torn and bleeding by the time he reached the top.

But somewhere in there, he’d started crying.

He ran toward their camp—easily found it upriver near the camelback ridge of rocks.

When he’d left her, she’d taken out her fire shelter. He’d hung onto that hope with a fist as he’d careened down the mountain, bulldozed through the forest.Please, Gilly, be under the fire shelter.

Now that thought glimmered as he kicked up ash and cinder, skirting hot spots glowing in the loam, snags that simmered.

He reached the boulder.

He found the silver shelter wadded up, seared, melted around the edges and—empty.

“No!” He kicked it into the wind, leaned against the rock, and pressed his hands over his face.

God, she didn’t deserve this.

And then he didn’t know why he was talking to God, because, please, what did he expect? He knew what God thought of him, and frankly, Reuben had done it again. Made the wrong decision and abandoned someone to die. He couldn’t bear the thought of her alone, terrified.

Worse, his gut—no, his heart—had practically screamed at him to take her with him. To carry her on his back, even if she hated it. To protect her like he should have.

He got up, kicking through the debris, not sure what he might be looking for.

A reason, perhaps, not to despair.

His foot met a charred bundle, and he squatted, brushing away the ash.

Their gear pack. Melted down, the plastic clips a hard mass.

He picked it up, his breath heaving over itself.

He was going to be sick again. Instead, he turned and with a feral cry, the one building in his chest for the past two hours, he threw the deformed pack with all his strength toward the ravine.

His moan echoed into the scalded air, past the ravine, into the still green forest, and back, reverberating through him.

A howl of grief, and he let it shake him, send him back to the boulder.

He fell against it, his breathing hard, emitting moans he didn’t know how to escape.

Then he closed his eyes and wept.

Why couldn’t he have seen this? He should have known the fire would have run with the wind, east—

He’d left her here to burn to death. Just like he’d let Jock run back into the fire. Just like he’d walked away from his father.

If he’d been on the ranch, he would have been with the old man, checking fencing with him when he’d had his heart attack. Could have ridden back for help—

Maybe his father would still be alive.

God, I screwed up. I screwed up bad.Reuben couldn’t breathe, the fist in his chest a vice.

Reuben.