Page 42 of Ruthless Edge

The mud crawl is underneath a long stretch of rope netting strung low to the ground. The goal is to army crawl through. The mud is deep and cold and I've been in it for about twenty seconds before my ponytail holder snaps somewhere in the middle and my hair collapses around my face.

"I look terrible," I announce.

"You've got a spot right here." Knox reaches over and taps my cheek. I reach up to feel what he's pointing at. Something smears.

"Did you just⁠—"

"Little more," he says, and smears a full handprint of mud across my face.

I get him in the side of the face with both hands.

What follows is not dignified. It involves a lot of mud and, at one point, Knox tackles me sideways and we roll a few feet through the muck while people crawl around us with varying degrees of patience. Knox is laughing hard enough that he can't really do anything effective and I end up significantly muddier than him anyway, which is not fair. He gets a handful of mud up near my hairline while I'm trying to get away, and I retaliate. At some point, a volunteer yells that we need to keep moving before Knox helps me up and we crawl out the other side looking like we lost a war against mud itself.

Next up is the tire run, which involves jumping between tires. Knox attempts to run it backward to show off. He makes it three tires before his foot catches and he goes down flat on his back with an impact I actually feel at a slight distance.

There's a second of silence.

Then I completely lose it and laugh until there are tears in my eyes.

"Carter," someone yells from behind us. "Are you dead?"

"Completely fine," Knox says to the sky. He hasn't moved. When I come close, he reaches up and grabs my ankle, and I go down into the tires with him. Falling onto his warm, hard body. It radiates through me in a way that’s entirely distracting.

"Knox!"

"You were laughing."

"I was not laughing at you, I was laughing with—I was laughing in your general direction."

He pulls himself upright and helps me up and we get through the rest of the tires without incident, which is more than I expected.

The wall climb is ten feet of vertical wood with handholds. I have done this before, in a gym with a spotter, and the gym wall was not covered in mud. I get halfway up and my hands slip and I come back down hard, which hurts.

"I'm fine," I say immediately, to whoever's about to say something.

"I know," Knox says. He's standing just behind me. "Let me help."

"I don't need⁠—"

"Emma." He says it quietly, right behind me. "Let me spot you."

I attempt to climb the wall mountain again. Three handholds up, I feel his hands at my waist, steadying me, then I'm moving better, and I get my hands over the top and haul myself over as he scrambles up beside me. My foot, somewhere in the process, connects with something and there's a sound from below me.

I look back over the top.

Knox has both hands over his nose.

"Oh God." I scramble down the other side. "Knox⁠—"

"I'm okay." His eyes are watering. He's blinking rapidly. "I'm great."

"I didn't—I couldn't see⁠—"

"It's fine." He pulls his hands away. His nose looks fine. He blinks a few more times. "Go."

"Knox, I'm so sorry⁠—"

"Emma." He's laughing now, eyes still watering. "Go. I'm right behind you."