Page 65 of Nothing But Air

The song built, and Teague’s voice grew stronger even if it wavered on the higher notes. Tears pricked at the corners of Eden’s eyes, and she blinked them back furiously.

When had she become this person who cried at karaoke?

But it wasn’t really the karaoke, was it? It was what it represented. What he was offering. What he was willing to risk to show her.

The least she could do was meet him halfway.

“What if I mess everything up?” Her eyes never left Teague’s even as she spoke to Sierra.

Sierra’s hand found Eden’s and squeezed tight. “What if you don’t?” Her voice was soft but steady. “What if the reward of this whole journey—getting back on the rock, coming here—what if it isn’t just about climbing? What if it’s about learning to live again?”

The words hit her square in the chest.

The reward of this journey wasn’t just getting back on the rock. It was this. She could feel something other than grief. She could imagine a future that wasn’t just survival but actually living. She could sit in this lodge and let herself hope for something she thought she’d lost the right to want.

Around them, people swayed to the music. A phone flashlight flickered up, then another, until the whole room glowed with tiny lights held aloft—a constellation of stars in this wooden lodge on the edge of the canyon.

It was cheesy.

And perfect.

She met Teague’s eyes across the room and offered the smallest nod. Nothing anyone else would catch. Just a barely there tilt of her chin, an acknowledgment.

I see you. I hear what you’re saying.

And I’m not running.

Teague noticed.

His whole face lit up as if she’d just promised him all new gear.

And in that moment, she knew she’d been seen. Not just the gesture, but all of her. He knew how difficult this was for her. He knew it took every ounce of her bravery just to stay in that chair. He knew she was still terrified.

And he was there for it anyway.

All of it. The good. The bad. The unknown.

His singing gained energy and grew more enthusiastic even as his pitch went a little sharp. The grin he wore spread across his face until his eyes crinkled at the corners, until she could see the dimple beneath his scruff.

She could see the joy ripple through him. The relief. The pure, unfiltered hope.

He nearly stumbled over the next lyric, caught himself, and threw his head back laughing before diving back in with even more enthusiasm.

Sierra squeezed her hand again. “On belay.”

The climbing term—not only committing to the climb but also the promise of safety, of someone watching out for you, of being caught if you fell—made Eden’s throat tight.

The song continued, and Eden found herself mouthing the words along with him. She knew this song. Had heard it a hundred times on road trips and in climbing gyms and at summer cookouts.

But tonight it sounded like Teague had written it just for her. Every line about leaving the pain of the past behind and opening her heart landed differently when the person singing them seemed to understand what he was asking of her.

Even if he couldn’t quite hit all the right notes.

Xander slid into an empty chair at her table, shaking his head with something between amusement and disbelief. “I cannot believe you got him up there.”

Eden tore her gaze from Teague. “I didn’t.”

Xander’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” He leaned forward on the table with his elbows. “I talked to him earlier. There was no way he was getting up there.”