Page 104 of Nothing But Air

The guilt that flickered across his face told her she was right.

“I just?—”

“Had to get to Liam. I know.” Eden wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the fire. “But here’s the thing, Teague. You can’t move fast enough, jump far enough, climb high enough, or save enough people to heal the hole that Chip left when he died.”

Teague flinched like she’d struck him.

“You talk about putting your trust in God. In the Rock.” Her voice dropped. “But do you? Because to me, it looks like the only one you put faith in is Teague.”

“That’s not fair.” His voice was hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like to?—”

“Lose someone?” The words cut like a blade. “I do. And I know what it’s like to lose someone unnecessarily because they wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t put anything above the next climb, the next rescue, the next chance to prove they were invincible.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a breath that shuddered on the way in. “I can’t do this.”

“We can talk later, when we’ve?—”

“No.” She gestured between them. “This. Whatever was starting between us.”

The firelight caught the devastation that swept across his face.

“As much as I care for you…” Her voice broke. She forced herself to continue. “Maybe because I care for you. I can’t be in a relationship where I’m always wondering if this will be the day you push too far and don’t come home.”

Teague swallowed hard. His jaw tightened. Something shattered behind his eyes—something she couldn’t let herself look at too closely or she’d break.

“I’ll go sit with Liam.” His voice was rough. Hollow. “Stay where I can see you.” He turned and walked away.

Everything in Eden screamed to call him back. To take it back. To run after him and tell him she didn’t mean it, that she was just scared, that they could figure it out together.

But she couldn’t open herself up like that again.

She could be professional. Could work with him. Could solve what was happening. Could help him get everyone out alive.

But trust him with her heart?

Not anymore.

Three weeks post-op, and Noah Wilde was going to lose his mind.

He paced the ranger office, boots scuffing against the worn hardwood, his palm pressed to his right side where the surgical incisions still pulled with every step. The dull ache had become a constant companion—a reminder of everything he couldn’t do.

Everything he should be doing.

Outside the window, the dark sky haunted him. He should have gone to bed hours ago, but something cold had settled in his gut and refused to leave. Definitely refused to let him sleep.

Something is wrong.

Noah stared at the vast emptiness where Liam and Teague were somewhere out of contact. Two of his best friends. Two of the most capable rangers he’d ever worked with.

Radio silence didn’t mean disaster. Usually.

But something wasn’t right, and according to the satellite image, a storm gathered from the west and should be there sometime tomorrow.

The radio sat on the desk, its green power light blinking. Nothing. Not a crackle, not a voice—just dead air. The solar storm had knocked out communications the past two days, but even with that past, they had remained silent.

Noah’s fingers brushed the small velvet box in his pocket. Still there. Still waiting.

Perfect.