Page 43 of One Last Shot

“Now you see why we made you wear gloves,” Axel said as the rope fed through Oaken’s grip.

Sweat lined his helmet and he said nothing, focused on his foot placement, the rate of descent, walking down the side of the rock wall.

“We also have a rescue harness we can send with you, or even a folding litter that you wear on your back like a pack,” Axel said.

“Save it for your interview,” Oaken said and glanced at him. “You seem to be a hit with Huxley.”

“Not as much as Shep is. Sheesh, the camera loves him.”

They were almost at the bottom.

Oaken had waged a face-off with Huxley about interviewing Boo, and she’d reluctantly agreed to keep her off camera. In trade, he’d agreed to let them film him off-hours. Like during his morning run, working out in the weight room, and even grabbing a bite with the team.

Something about the Air One lifestyle—minus the cameras—felt weirdly relaxing. Freeing even, despite the danger, theresponsibility.

Although, with Shep belaying him from the top and the massive padding at the bottom...

Oaken reached the padding and then lowered them all the way to the ground. He unhooked Axel, who lifted his hand in a high five.

Huxley stood at the bottom. “Cut. That’s a wrap for today.” She walked over to Oaken. “That was fantastic. If you want, you can stop by later and check out the dailies.”

He was unhooking himself from his belay rope. “I wanted to ask you about that—I’m a little tired of living out of a hotel, despite being in the executive suite. And on my own dime. I have a load of laundry that I need washed. I was hoping for that Airbnb you promised?”

She made a face. “Right. I’ll talk to Reynolds.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound hopeful.

Shep’s voice came through the radio. “We’re hauling up the ropes. Meet us up top with your gear.”

Axel had gotten up, headed for the stairs that led out of the pit, and Oaken followed him. The air in the Shed smelled metallic, the massive fans off, the view through the expansive windows of a clear blue day, snowcapped mountains to the west, piney forest to the east, and Elmendorf Air Force Base to the north. So different than his condo in Nashville, although not a great leap from King Studios in Mercy Falls, Montana, where he did much of his recording. In fact, it was his producer, Ben King, who had suggested this adventure with Mike Grizz to Goldie.

Not sure why, really, but a week ago today he’d been standing on the edge of a river, questioning his motives, and wondering if he’d survive.

Still didn’t have an answer to either, but the roiling in his chest had died.

Shucking off his gear, he spotted Boo heading his direction carrying a massive gear bag over her shoulder.She wore her dark hair back and a red jumpsuit with the Air One badge on the chest and carried her helmet. And she didn’t appear angry.

Even offered him a smile.

“Good job,” she said as she walked by him. She lifted a hand.

He clapped it.

She kept going, toward the doors.

“Wow. You two besties now?”

He looked at Axel, who was also unclipping his rig.

“That was a real smile. Someone is on the thaw.” Axel winked.

“We have a truce,” Oaken said. “That’s all.”

“Right.”

Oaken shook his head, then added his harness and helmet into the open gear bag. Moose had joined them, dropping another heavy bag onto the ground. “It’s going to be a beautiful weekend,” he said. “I’ll be throwing some steaks on the grill tonight, if anyone wants to come over. There’s a Polar Bear game on.”

“Polar Bear?” Oaken said.