Minutes later, they were back on the path and reached the fork. They turned and headed down the trail that some visitors claimed was more suited to the park’s mountain goat population than it was to humans. This was an exaggeration—it was a safe trail for hikers if they were mentally prepared for the steep drop and pinch points along the switchbacks once they began to ascend the cliff. Signs were posted all over the lodge grounds and trail maps, directing the casual hiker and visitors with a fear of heights who just wanted to see the top of the falls from a safe vantage point to take the easier path across the meadow.

But the truth remained: this wasn’t a trail for casual tourists even in good weather.

They began their ascent up the first switchback, no longer sheltered by the forest canopy, the basalt ground bare of moss and ferns. From his sure stride, she could tell Xavier was undaunted by the drop-off. And usually she was fine with it, but she’d never hiked this trail in January before, when the ground was saturated and what little soil had collected on the rocky path was slippery. It didn’t help that she wore only lightweight cloth hiking boots not suited to the trail or conditions.

They’d turned the corner on the first switchback, and her tension began to ease. She could do this. She knew this trail. This was her park. It was home to her as much as her rental house in Port Angeles.

Xavier was a few strides ahead—showing no signs of being winded from the steep climb—and she had taken several quick steps to catch up to him when she planted a foot on a loose rock. She let out a yelp as she scrambled to regain her footing, and her other foot landed on more loose rocks.

She reached for him as he turned. Her reaching fingers missed his arm, but he caught her. He gripped the lapel of her winter raincoat and anchored her to the path.

Her heart beat frantically as her belly did somersaults. This was worse than the icy roadway. If she’d gone off the edge on the drive to the lodge, the SUV would have slammed into some trees. She could’ve been injured, maybe killed, but also might have survived with nothing more than a few scrapes.

But this cliff?

Right here, it was a thirty-foot drop down a seventy-five-degree rock face. She’d land in icy-cold shallow water filled with jagged basalt boulders that had broken from the face over the centuries. If she somehow survived the fall, she’d probably be knocked unconscious and drown before Xavier could climb down and save her.

“You okay?” he asked.