Page 10 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Beau

Dusk casts a shadow over my property as I break down for the day.

Thankfully, the renters in the two-bedroom cabin—a couple in town for a wedding—left a day early, so I’m able to shower and cook myself dinner tonight.

I slept well enough in my truck last night, though I have the option to crash in the rental for tonight at least.

I toss my work gloves on the tailgate of my truck and glance at Callie’s cabin. I didn’t see her come back, but a light is on inside, indicating to me someone must be home.

I guess I missed her .

The double meaning in that statement isn’t lost on me.

I want to make this right , is what I want to tell her. Problem is, I’m shit with words and getting them out when I need to. Always have been. Every time I rehearse what I want to say to her, then get the chance to, my head is hollow and the moment passes.

I start packing my tools away methodically, each one finding its designated spot in the bed of my truck. The rhythm of the work is soothing, familiar. Unlike the knot of frustration that tightens in my chest whenever I think about Callie and the mess I’ve made, the fear in her eyes yesterday.

She’d gone hiking this afternoon. I spotted her and Hulk heading toward the mountain trail with those same flimsy sneakers on her feet that I warned her about. The stubborn woman had just marched past me, chin up, those blonde waves bouncing with each determined step.

I wanted to call out, to say something, anything , but the words got stuck in my throat.

Story of my damn life with this woman.

A distant sound catches my attention—a bark followed by a whimper. I straighten, my brow furrowed as I listen intently.

There it is again. More urgent this time.

I turn toward the road and see a shape inching toward me. Limping.

I’d recognize that massive German Shepherd anywhere. Hulk.

But something feels wrong when I peer farther down the road. I don’t see Callie. And Hulk is never without her. Never.

I drop the shovel I’m holding and jog toward him. As I get closer, I can see he’s favoring his hind legs. There are scratches along his side, dirt and blood mat patches of his fur. He looks like he was just in one hell of a fight.

“Hey, boy,” I say, approaching slowly. He and I haven’t had the best start, but he’s heading straight toward me—and he doesn’t look too good. “Where’s Callie?”

At the sound of her name, Hulk barks sharply, then turns toward the trail. His gaze shifts to me and he barks once more before limping a few steps in the trail’s direction.

My blood runs cold. “Show me.”

The sun is fading fast, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. Not much daylight left. I follow Hulk’s limping form down the road, my pace quickening despite the dull ache in my knee as we move up the mountain.

The trailhead looms ahead, three paths branching from the main one. I’ve hiked them all countless times while surveying the property years ago, but which one did Callie take?

Hulk hesitates at the fork, whining as he looks between the paths.

“Which way?”

He starts toward the center trail—the most difficult one—but stops, circling back with a pained whimper. His injury is slowing him down, and he’s clearly in a lot of pain.

I kneel, examining the ground. The recent rain has left the dirt soft enough to hold impressions. There—a distinct footprint heading up the center trail. Small. And beside it, paw prints.

“Stay,” I tell Hulk, pointing firmly at the ground. He barks, trying to follow me, but I can’t risk him injuring himself further. I need to move fast, and he’s in no condition to keep up. “I’ll find her. I promise,” I say, wondering if he can even understand me.

Sure enough, he lies down at the head of the path with a whimper, his gaze on me.

I set off at a brisk pace, following the most challenging trail. My knee strains with each upward movement, but I ignore it. The trail gets steeper, rockier. The kind of terrain that could be dangerous for someone in inadequate footwear.

“Callie,” I call out, my voice echoing through the trees. “Callie, can you hear me?”

Nothing but the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze answers me.

I push on, the light fading by the minute. I scan the path ahead. About a mile in, I spot something that makes my heart stop. A small section of disturbed earth at the edge of the trail, right where it narrows beside a steep drop-off.

“Hulk!” Her scream is terrified. The raw panic in her voice sends adrenaline surging through my veins as I sprint ahead. “Hulk, where are you? Please, baby, answer me.”

“Callie,” I shout.

Her screams stop abruptly. “Hello? Who’s there?”

I slow as I approach the disturbed edge, peering carefully over at the rampage of debris showing signs of a rockslide.

About twenty feet down the steep embankment, I spot her—half-sitting against a boulder, blood matting her hair on one side, face streaked with dirt, blood, and tears.

Her right leg is stretched in front of her.

Relief washes over me at finding her alive. “Stay still. I’m coming to you.” Dirt instantly gives way under my boot and I curse to myself. I opt for a different angle to hopefully avoid any more debris from falling in her direction.

The slope is treacherous—loose shale and dirt mixed with jagged rocks. I sit at the edge and begin to slide down carefully, using my good leg to brace against larger rocks and roots, controlling my descent. Pain shoots through my knee with each jarring movement. I grit my teeth and keep going.

She peers at me. “Beau?” Confusion colors her voice, quickly followed by renewed panic. “Can you see Hulk? I can’t find him. He fell with me, but when I woke up…I-I can’t—”

“He’s okay,” I say, carefully picking my way down toward her. “He came to find me.”

She stares at me, disbelief battling with hope. “He went for help?”

“Smart dog you’ve got there,” I say as loose rocks cascade down from under my boots. “Fuck.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s waiting at the trailhead. His back leg’s injured, but he managed to make it to me.”

Fresh tears spill over her cheeks. “Is he really okay?”

“He will be. Right now, we need to worry about you.” I reach her side, crouching to examine her injuries. Up close, the gash on her temple has stopped bleeding but looks nasty. She’s going to need stitches. Her ankle is also visibly swollen. “Can you move your toes?”

She nods, demonstrating with a grimace. “Just a sprain, I think. My head hurts worse.”

“You probably have a concussion,” I say, gently examining the wound. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Hulk first,” she says stubbornly.

A bark echoes from above us. Somehow, Hulk has managed to follow me. He’s at the top of the slope, pacing anxiously along the edge of the trail, his large frame silhouetted against the darkening sky.

“Hulk,” Callie cries, putting her hand up. “It’s okay, baby, stay there.”

“Goddammit,” I mutter. “I told him to stay.”

Callie lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “He doesn’t listen to anyone but me.”

Fair enough. I can’t say I’d stay away if Callie needed me either. “We need to move,” I say. “That slope is too steep for you to climb with your ankle, even with my help. I’m going to have to carry you.”

She looks doubtful. “What about your knee?”

My knee is the last thing I’m worried about.

I grunt. “I’ve carried heavier packs through rougher terrain with worse injury,” I assure her, turning to crouch with my back to her. “Put your arms around my neck.”

With some awkward maneuvering and a few pained gasps from Callie, I get her settled on my back, her legs wrapped around my waist as best she can manage with her swollen ankle.

I adjust my grip under her thighs as I begin the difficult climb.

Each step strains my knee, but I focus on placing my feet carefully, following the path I took down.

“Thank you,” she says softly. Her tears dampen my neck as the weight of her trust settles on my shoulders. A fierce protectiveness surges through me, something primal and absolute.

The earth beneath my feet shifts unexpectedly and my training takes over as I bite through the shock in my knee.

I lock my jaw and maneuver up the remaining slope.

“Almost there,” I grunt as we near the top where Hulk waits, his tail wagging tentatively despite his obvious discomfort.

Callie tightens her hold around my neck.

When we reach the cliff’s edge and settle on the other side, Hulk immediately presses his body against Callie, whining softly as he nuzzles her face. She wraps her arms around his neck, burying her tear and blood-streaked face in his fur.

“You brave, brave boy,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

I give them a moment, throat tight as I watch their reunion. Then reality reasserts itself. We’re losing daylight fast. “Let’s get going,” I say, eyeing the darkening sky.

Callie nods, wincing as she tries to stand. “I can probably hobble—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I’m going to carry you, but differently this time.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I need you in front of me,” I explain, positioning myself before her. “Arms around my neck, legs around my waist.”

Her cheeks flush slightly. “That’s…”

“Practical,” I counter. “We’re heading downhill now. If I slip, I can fall backward and cushion you. And I need my arms free to grab onto trees or rocks if necessary.”

Hesitantly, she reaches her arms out to me.

I crouch down, supporting her weight as she wraps her legs around my waist, careful of her ankle.

“I got you,” I mutter as I carefully lift her into my arms. For a moment, I’m struck by how perfectly she fits against me.

Solid. Real. Her head naturally finds the hollow of my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.

I’ve thought about holding her before, I realize.

To have those wild, honey curls brush against my skin, to feel the rhythm of her heartbeat close to mine.

The reality is more powerful than I could have imagined, even amidst the fear and urgency of the moment.

One of her hands curls into the fabric of my shirt, her nails biting into my upper back.

“You okay?” I ask, securing my hands under her thighs.

She nods against my shoulder, her face close to mine. Hulk watches us before limping ahead a few steps and looking back expectantly.

As darkness falls around us, I pick my way down the mountain trail with Callie held tight in my arms. The descent is slow and treacherous.

The trail narrows in places, forcing me to sidestep carefully.

The uneven terrain taxes my already strained knee.

I focus on my footing, hyperaware of her warmth against my chest.

“How’s your knee?” she murmurs after we’ve been walking for about twenty minutes.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, but there’s no heat in it.

I grunt in acknowledgment, unable to find the right words. My knee hurts, sure, but I’m not about to tell her that.

Her safety is more important than any pain I could be in.

Ahead of us, Hulk continues his determined march, but his limp is becoming more pronounced. His pace has slowed considerably.

“He’s hurting bad,” Callie whispers, concern in her voice.

“He’s running on pure adrenaline and devotion,” I reply.

She falls silent at that, arms tightening around me.

By the time the trailhead comes into view, twilight has fallen in earnest. Hulk’s pace has slowed to a painful crawl. Callie’s muscles tremble from the strain of holding on.

“Almost there,” I encourage them both.

Hulk collapses the moment we reach the small gravel parking area, his sides heaving with exhaustion. The adrenaline that’s been carrying him is spent. He whimpers when Callie calls his name.

I carefully lower her to sit beside him on the ground. She strokes his head, murmuring words of comfort while tears stream down her face.

“My truck,” I tell her, already backing away. “Will you be okay for two minutes?”

“Yes,” she sniffles, not taking her eyes off Hulk. “We’ll be right here.”

I take off at a run. The faster I get the truck, the sooner I can get them both medical attention. The gravel road crunches under my boots as I push myself harder than I should.

When I pull up minutes later, I find Callie exactly where I left her, cradling Hulk’s massive head in her lap. The Shepherd’s eyes are half-closed, but his tail thumps weakly against the ground when he sees me.

“I’ll get him in first,” I say, opening the back door of my extended cab.

Together, we coax Hulk to stand. With careful maneuvering and a lot of gentle reassurance from Callie, I manage to lift him into the backseat.

He collapses again, breathing heavily. I turn to Callie next, lifting her into the passenger seat.

I close the door and jog around the front to the driver’s side.

The moment I’m seated, Callie says without hesitation, “Animal hospital.”

I glance at her bloody temple. “Callie, you need—”

“Animal hospital,” she repeats, her voice brooking no argument. “Hulk is hurt. I can wait.”

I study her for a moment. The determined set of her jaw, the pain in her eyes that has nothing to do with her physical injuries. “Fine,” I say, starting the engine.

In the rearview mirror, I catch sight of Hulk stretched across the backseat, his loyal gaze fixed on Callie even in his exhaustion. She reaches back between the seats to rest her hand on his flank. “Good boy,” she whispers.