Free No Safe Haven by Kimberley Woodhouse

him.
    Before he could put up his guard, feelings surged through him. Things he hadn't felt in years. Hadn't allowed to surface. Because he couldn't afford to do so. Caring always led to pain.
    Stop. Focus.
    He lowered himself down the rope. Andie had fallen about twenty-five feet below Jenna, as far as the ropes would allow. But that wasn't what bothered him. She hung upside down, completely limp. He knew that she had some kind of rare disorder, but he hadn't had time to find out all the details. He hadn't expected to find a vibrant, functioning, normal kid.
    A new question plagued him. What if he'd put them all in danger by pushing too hard?
    It wasn't long before he reached her still form. "Andie." Keep your voice calm. He pulled her upright. "Andie, talk to me. What's happening?"
    "Uhhhhhnnn . . . mmmomm . . ."
    Cole yanked off her goggles and checked her pupils. Eyes were glassy. "Andie, I need you to stay awake."
    "Uhh . . . kay . . ."
    He pulled off her ski mask. Bright red cheeks, skin hot to the touch. He yelled as loud as he could up to Jenna, careful not to let his alarm come through in his voice. "She's burning up. And she's bright red."
    "Take off her coat! She's overheating!" Jenna's words fought the fierce wind as they floated down to him, but he didn't miss the panic in her voice.
    That's right. Marc's words registered again. The kid couldn't sweat or feel pain.
    "Andie, stay with me. Stay awake." He lifted off her pack, unzipped her jacket, and gently pulled her arms out one at a time. Grabbing some snow from the side of the cliff, he wet down her face and neck. Surely it wouldn't take long for her to cool off in these temps. "Andie, look at me."
    No response. All her symptoms pointed to heatstroke, but could it really be that? On the side of a mountain? In frigid temps?
    "Andie"—he made the words forceful—"wake up."
    Jenna's shout echoed down to him, "Cole? Cole? Andie?"
    Cole rubbed Andie's face again.
    Her eyes opened and worked to focus on him. She blinked. "Cole . . ."
    He released a sigh. "Hey, you back with us?"
    She glanced around. Each moment that passed, her eyes gained clarity.
    "Did you hurt anything? Can you talk to me?" He continued questioning her, hoping the lethargy would clear. He removed his own ski goggles and placed a hand to her forehead. At least her skin wasn't burning any longer. He unclipped a water bottle from a carabiner at his waist and positioned it at her lips. "Drink."
    He looked up at Jenna and waved an arm, hoping she understood that Andie was alert and okay. That was too close. His heart thumped. Time to squelch these feelings.
    After chugging the entire water bottle, Andie smiled. "Cole?"
    "Yeah?"
    "You have icicles on your eyebrows." She reached up, tentatively touching his face, and smiled again. "It's kinda warm today, huh?"
    He allowed a small laugh to escape. "I'm glad you inherited your dad's wit. Guess you're feeling better?"
    "Well, I don't know. Everything's not so fuzzy anymore." She shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks, Cole. Guess I overexerted. I'm sorry I slowed you down."
    Cole winced. It was his fault, pushing them to extremes to prove he could protect them. "Andie, no. You didn't do anything wrong." He checked her harness. Avoided eye contact. "Sometimes . . . well sometimes, I get too focused on the mission."
    "The mission?" Andie giggled. "Oh, Cole. You are way too serious. Now you sound just like my dad."
    He allowed himself another brief chuckle as he clipped the water bottle back into place and prepared to climb. "Well, your dad and I were friends. I should have told you earlier. And yes, we had many missions together."
    "I know."
    "Oh? How did you know?"
    "I overheard you talking to Mom. It's okay, it reminds me of my dad."
    He cocked an eyebrow and checked their ropes.
    "But that doesn't mean I trust you."
    "Of course not."
    "So, are you ready to get me up this mountain?"
    The kid had spunk. "Sure thing. Let's get you up to your mom. I'm sure she's