Page 63 of Nothing But Air

Teague didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do with this revelation—that the wall between them wasn’t I don’t want you but I’m terrified because I want you.

He understood that fear. Lived it.

“Eden, there you are!”

Kyle’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

The door hinges creaked as he appeared, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. His boots were heavy on the stone patio. “Come on—our duet’s up next. Like old times.”

Eden swung her legs over the rock wall and pushed to standing. Cool air rushed in where her warmth had been.

“Kyle, I don’t think?—”

“Come on, E. It’s tradition.” Kyle stepped closer, his hand landing on the small of her back. Possessive. Familiar. “You and me. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’ We used to kill that one, remember?”

Eden stepped away from Kyle’s touch. She glanced at Teague. Something flickered in her expression—apology, maybe. Or frustration.

But Teague wasn’t threatened by Kyle.

It wasn’t Kyle keeping them apart. She’d made that clear a minute ago.

He was a patient man.

He followed them inside and watched Kyle lean close to Eden as they took the stage. The way Kyle’s hand lingered at her elbow. The possessive tilt of his head. The way he angled his body toward her like he was staking a claim.

Liam appeared at his shoulder and pressed a fresh Dr Pepper into his hand. The can was cold—straight from the cooler.

“You okay, man?”

“Fine.”

“That’s not what your face says.”

Teague took a long drink. The carbonation was sharp on his tongue. On stage, Kyle and Eden started their duet—their voices blending in a way that spoke of years of friendship, of shared history, of a life Teague hadn’t been part of.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. And tried to believe it.

But four minutes later, as Kyle and Eden exited the stage to scattered applause, Teague knew his next move.

The worn floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked over to the book. His finger traced down the laminated pages until he found it.

He turned to the woman running the karaoke machine. “Number 247.”

She nodded and he took the stage, grabbed the mic as the first chords filled the room.

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Teague was taking the stage.

No prompting. No peer pressure. No one dragging him up there kicking and screaming. He’d just…walked up. Grabbed the microphone. Squared his shoulders like he was preparing to rappel into a canyon rescue instead of sing karaoke in a lodge not even half full.

The applause erupted louder than for anyone else tonight—whistles and cheers and someone in the back shouting “Finally!”—and Eden caught the slight smirk on Teague’s face. That ranger confidence she’d come to recognize.

Though tonight it seemed softer around the edges. More vulnerable.

The opening bars filled the air, and Eden froze mid-clap.

“Let My Love Open the Door.”