Page 26 of Nothing But Air

“Eden. Wait.”

She turned slowly.

Teague stood in the doorway, backlit by fluorescent lights, his expression unreadable. The shadows under his eyes looked darker from this angle.

“Don’t do this.”

The words landed like a slap.

Eden’s hands clenched. “Excuse me?”

Teague stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m all for you climbing again. But these climbs will be rough. Technical. Dangerous?—”

Marcus walked out with Virgil, heading toward the superintendent’s office. Their voices faded down the hallway.

Teague watched until the door clicked shut, then turned back to her. “Please. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Prove anything?” Heat flooded her chest. “You think that’s what this is about?”

“I think you’re trying to make a point. About me being reckless?—”

“This isn’t about you.” Liar. “The park needs climbers. I’m a climber. Simple.”

“You haven’t climbed in two years.”

She stepped closer. “You’re the one who said this chaos won’t end until the cache is found. You’re the one who volunteered to go out there with a man who’s clearly hiding something. And you’re the one who so eloquently called me a caged climber. So don’t stand here and tell me I can’t help.”

“That’s different.”

She crossed her arms. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m trained for this. It’s my job.”

“It was my job too.” Her voice hardened. “I was one of the best climbers in my program. Rescues, technical ascents—everything you’re planning to do out there. The only difference is I stopped.”

Teague ran a hand through his curls. “Yes, you stopped. And instead of easing back into it, you’re jumping into a dangerous situation.”

“Funny.” She tilted her head. “I seem to remember someone leaping across an eight-foot gap with no helmet only a few days ago. How’d you describe it? ‘Basic climbing technique’?”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not the same.”

“You’re right. I’ll have proper gear and a team. You had nothing but your massive ego and dumb luck.”

Something flickered in his expression—annoyance, maybe, but also something that looked suspiciously like admiration. “I had a plan.”

“The plan of a lemming.”

His mouth twitched. “Did you just call me a lemming?”

“If the tiny suicidal rodent fits.”

Teague exhaled a sound that was almost a laugh. “For the record, lemmings don’t actually throw themselves off cliffs. That’s a myth.”

He stared at her for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. The tension between them changed—still charged, but different now. Warmer.

“You’re not going to back down, are you?”

“Have I ever?”