Page 54 of Nothing But Air

“Are you kidding? I charged him extra for entertainment value.” Sierra sipped her water, eyes dancing. “Though I did make him climb it next. He got about ten feet before he was begging for beta.”

Eden smiled, the familiar rhythm of climbing stories settling something in her chest. This was the language she’d grown up speaking—tales of difficult clients and harder routes, of near-misses and hard-won summits.

But calling her friends back here, sitting with them like this—it meant opening the door to her past. To memories she’d locked in a box labeled Do Not Open.

“What about you, E?” Trey leaned forward, his brown eyes—so much like Landon’s—warm with nostalgia. “Remember that Fourth of July when you convinced half the town that Mrs. Henderson’s cat was actually a small mountain lion?”

The memory surfaced, surprisingly clear. “In my defense, that cat was enormous. And it did growl at people.”

“You had the sheriff’s department out there with tranquilizer guns.” Sierra was already grinning. “Poor Mrs. Henderson nearly had a heart attack.”

“She forgave me eventually. I brought her cookies, and she told me I had an ‘overactive imagination suited for storytelling, not law enforcement.’”

“Didn’t you write that essay about it for school?” Trey’s smile was a ghost of his brother’s. “Landon used to tell that story at parties. Said it was the moment he knew you were trouble in the best way.”

The mention of Landon’s name should have hurt more.

Eden waited for the familiar wave of grief—the one that usually crashed over her and pulled her under. But instead…something gentler. Nostalgia mixed with sadness. Bittersweet ache without destruction.

Huh.

“He told that story at our engagement party.” Her voice came out steady. “Made it way more dramatic than it actually was.”

“That was Landon.” Trey’s smile was sad but genuine. “Always made everything an adventure.”

Kyle shifted in his seat, his attention sharpening. Something about the movement—deliberate, calculated—made Eden’s shoulders tense.

“Remember that climb we did in Red Rocks?” His voice was casual. Too casual. “When Landon free-soloed that section just to prove he could?”

Something in his tone made the hair on Eden’s arms rise. Not quite criticism. More like…a weapon being loaded.

“He was always pushing limits.” She kept her voice neutral.

“Some would say too far.” Kyle’s gaze flicked across the dining hall—to where Teague sat with his elbows on the table, the position emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But at least he knew what he was doing. Had the skills to back up the risks.”

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

Oh, you did not just?—

Sierra’s eyes narrowed. Trey looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to his plate.

“Kyle—” Trey started.

“I’m just saying.” Kyle’s tone stayed casual, but his eyes were sharp. “Experience matters. Especially when lives are on the line.”

Eden’s hands curled into fists beneath the table. He was trying to undermine whatever was building between them, and she wasn’t sure why.

“So, karaoke at eight.” Sierra leaned forward, voice deliberately bright. “I’ve already gotten approval from Virgil and spread the word. Everyone’s going, right? It’s tradition the night before a big climb.”

Thank you, Sierra.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Trey shot Sierra a grateful look. “Though I’m claiming ‘Sweet Caroline’ before anyone else does.”

“You claim it every year.” Sierra rolled her eyes. “Eden, please tell me you’re still doing your tragic rendition of Journey?”

Despite the tension coiled in her chest, Eden smiled. “‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ is a classic, and I will not hear otherwise. And it’s better than Kyle’s ‘The Gambler.’”

Kyle’s jaw dropped. “That song is a masterpiece.”