Page 87 of Nothing But Air

He clipped the radio back onto his pack and offered Eden his hand. “Come on. Let’s get down before we lose the light.”

Eden took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Cover for me.”

“I didn’t.” His green eyes held hers. “One hold failed. Everyone lived. It was a good climb.”

“Teague—”

“We’re not doing this again.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Come on.”

The descent was easier than the climb up. And as they started down together, Eden realized something had changed. Not just in how she thought about climbing, or about Teague, or even about herself.

But in how she thought about being here.

She’d come to the North Rim to hide away.

But for the first time since she’d arrived, maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t hiding anymore. Maybe she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Anchored into the Rock.

And finally, blessedly, not alone.

Ten

Teague couldn’t decide which was more dangerous—the unstable caves they were about to climb into or the way Eden smiled at him now.

Both had the potential to wreck him completely.

The sky was pale gray when he led the team out of camp—predawn light that turned everything muted gray. His ribs ached with each step, a reminder of yesterday’s fall.

But the pain was manageable. Nothing that would stop him from climbing.

Nothing that would stop him from watching Eden move ahead of him on the trail, blonde braid swinging with each stride, confidence back in her step.

Last night had changed something. Not fixed everything—one climb couldn’t undo two years of grief—but it had cracked open a door.

And that kiss.

His lips still remembered the feel of hers. The way she’d leaned into him instead of pulling away.

He wanted to do that again. Soon. Often.

But first—Roosevelt gold to find. Then maybe they could have more than a few minutes to themselves.

“How much farther?” Marcus’s voice came from behind, breathless despite the moderate pace.

“Quarter mile.” Teague glanced back. “You doing okay?”

“Fine. Just ready to get there.”

Marcus didn’t look fine. Brown hair uncombed. Face pale and drawn. His hands kept fidgeting with his pack straps, and his wiry frame practically vibrated with nervous energy.

Eden had been right from the beginning. Something was off about this guy.

“You’re staring.” Eden had dropped back to walk beside him, her voice low.