Page 27 of Nothing But Air

“No.” His voice softened. “That’s one of the things I—” He stopped himself. Cleared his throat. “One of the things that makes you good at your job.”

But she’d heard the pause. Heard what he’d almost said.

“If you can put your life at risk, so can I.” She met his eyes. “You don’t get to decide that your life matters less than everyone else’s. That you’re the only one allowed to volunteer for dangerous jobs.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m going.” Her decision solidified, even as everything in her seemed to tremble. “I’m calling my contacts. And even if they don’t agree to help, I’ll be part of this search whether you like it or not.”

Teague’s jaw worked, muscles tensing. He took a half step toward her. Close enough that she caught the scent of coffee and faint cedar beneath his exhaustion.

“I don’t—” He exhaled hard. “It’s not that I don’t want you out there because I don’t trust you. I believe you’re as good as you say.”

Another half step. Close enough that she had to tip her chin up.

“But I can’t focus on finding that cache if I’m worried about you getting hurt.”

The admission hung between them.

Unexpected. Unguarded. Real.

Eden’s anger faltered. “Now you know how it feels.” The words came out slightly above a whisper.

Teague’s green eyes searched her face. For a moment, she thought he might say something that would shatter the last of her defenses.

Instead, he shook his head. Something like defeat flickered across his features.

She cleared her throat and stepped back. “I guess you’ll just have to trust that I can take care of myself. Same way I’m supposed to trust you.”

She turned and walked away before he could respond.

Before she could see whatever was written on his face.

Before she could change her mind.

Her hands were shaking by the time she reached her cabin. Nimue looked up from the couch. “You okay?”

Eden nodded—a lie—and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through contacts she hadn’t touched in two years. Names she’d avoided. Numbers she’d never deleted but never called.

Climbers. Friends. People who’d known her before Landon died. Before she’d walked away from everything that had once defined her.

Her thumb hovered over the first name.

Sierra Vaughn.

They’d trained together. Competed together. Nearly died together on a route in Colorado that had gone sideways in a storm—clinging to rock while lightning split the sky and rain turned the stone slick as glass.

If anyone would drop everything to help, it would be Sierra.

Eden pressed call.

The phone rang once. Twice?—

“Eden Garrison.” Sierra’s voice was exactly as she remembered—rough around the edges, warm with genuine affection. That fierce, no-nonsense energy. “Good grief, girl. I began to wonder if I would ever hear from you again.”