Page 15 of Nothing But Air

“You can like your new life without leaving your old life behind.” A pause. “Sierra asked about you again. I ran into her at the store.”

Eden froze, her gaze darting to the photo of her old friend. “What did you tell her?”

“What I always tell everyone. You’re off finding yourself, and you will reach out when you’re ready. But I should have told her the truth. You’re hiding.”

“I’m finding stability.”

“Same thing, the way you do it. I can’t believe you haven’t talked to any of them since you moved there.”

Mara didn’t get it. How could she? It wasn’t her fiancé who’d died. Eden stood, leaving Mara facing the ceiling, and moved back to the pull-up bar. The metal was cold against her palms.

One. “I have a stable career.” Or did as of a few hours ago, and she still held out hope that she’d be reassigned to one of the positions they were keeping on.

Two. “A place to live.”

Three. “Colleagues who respect me.”

“And no joy. No passion. No risk. No friends.” Mara’s voice followed her.

Four. “I have friends. Nimue is moving into my extra room in the morning.”

But Mara wasn’t done. “I remember when you used to be alive, Eden. Actually alive. Not this version who counts pull-ups and follows protocols and acts like feeling anything is dangerous.”

Five. Six. Seven.

“Risk gets people killed,” Eden said through gritted teeth. “Remember?”

Silence.

Then, softer: “Eden. Landon’s death wasn’t your fault. It was that climbing thing that failed.”

“His cam.” The correction came automatically. “A spring-loaded camming device. And when they fail, people die.”

“Nobody’s asking you to free solo again. But you can’t spend your whole life running from who you are.”

“I’m not running. I’m choosing.”

“You’re hiding.”

“I’m surviving.”

The word hung sharp in the air. Before Mara could respond, someone knocked on the cabin door.

Eden dropped from the bar. “Hold on.”

She crossed the room and pulled open the door.

Teague stood on her front steps, hands shoved in his pockets, auburn curls lit by the porch light. He looked different than he had during the rescue—no cocky grin, no easy confidence. Just tired eyes and an uncertain expression she’d never seen on him before.

“Hey.” His voice was rough. “Can we talk?”

Eden was acutely aware of her flushed cheeks, her sweaty tank top, the pull-up bar visible behind her. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“I can see that.” His gaze flicked to her reddened palms. “Interesting something.”

“It’s called exercise. Some of us do it.”

“Some of us do it outside, on actual rocks.”