Page 61 of Nothing But Air

“Just thinking.”

“That’s what worries me.” She gestured to the crowd with her water bottle. “You’re supposed to be having fun. Not planning tomorrow’s route in your head.”

“I can do both.”

“Can you?” She raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in her smile. Held his gaze a beat longer than necessary.

Those bright blue eyes saw too much. Not in an accusing way. In a gentle, knowing way.

And that.

Right there.

That look.

A softness mixed with something he couldn’t quite name. That look was why he wasn’t threatened by Xander. Or Kyle.

He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

He nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get some air before Xander drags you up there again.”

“I am still waiting for your Justin Bieber.”

“I told you. The world isn’t ready for that.”

She laughed—that bright, unguarded sound—and followed him out.

They slipped onto the lodge’s porch. The cool late-evening air was a relief after the warmth and noise inside—a twenty-degree drop since sunset. Stars emerged in the night sky like pinpricks of light against darkening velvet. A crescent moon offered just enough illumination to trace the jagged silhouettes of plateaus and spires that rose up the canyon.

Teague stepped past the rocking chairs and sat on the low rock wall, letting his feet dangle above the canyon. Juniper and sun-warmed stone surrounded him—cooler now but still holding the day’s heat. Behind them, muffled through the tall windows, Sierra hit a high note that made several people cheer.

“This is nice.” Eden settled next to him on the wall. Close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Close enough that he could feel warmth radiating off her skin despite the cooling air. The only sound was an owl that called somewhere in the distance.

Teague let the silence stretch.

Comfortable in a way that surprised him.

Usually he needed to fill quiet moments. To stay busy. To keep moving forward. But sitting here with Eden, watching the canyon walls fade into shadow…

This was right.

“Can I ask you something?” Eden’s voice was soft. Almost hesitant.

“Always.”

“How old was Chip?”

The question should have brought that sharp pinch of dread. That instinctive flinch away from the wound. But somehow, when she asked, it didn’t.

Normally he hated talking about it. Deflected. Changed the subject. Built walls so high no one could see over them.

But he wanted Eden to know. Wanted her to understand what drove him. Why the thought of not being there for someone that he cared about terrified him more than any climb ever could.

“He was eighteen. Almost nineteen.” Teague stared out at the darkness, his throat tight. The night air cooled the moisture gathering in his eyes. “It was supposed to be a simple family hike. Low key. Nothing technical.”

A pause. The owl called again—closer now.

“Chip was being reckless. Like always. Trying to get a laugh. Only he misjudged the pitch of the slope.” His voice dropped. “I saw it in his eyes the moment he realized he’d made a mistake.”