Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
HANNA
T his is harder than I thought it would be.” My words emerge between labored breaths as my boots slip on the loose stones. I struggle to maintain my footing, and my legs ache from the climb. When did I become so out of shape? I used to hike every weekend.
Jordan glances back at me, calm and unbothered by the trail’s steep incline. His brown eyes meet mine, and the intensity of his attention feels like it could support me through anything.
“You’re doing fine,” he says, his voice more reassuring than the words themselves.
It’s maddening how effortless he makes it all seem. He hikes the uneven trail easily while I’m behind him, huffing and puffing. He’s even carrying the pack with all our supplies. The only thing I’m carrying is the urn with Keenan’s ashes.
Jordan’s broad shoulders shift as he adjusts the pack on his back. The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt reveal forearms that flex with every movement, sun-browned and powerful. I’ve been watching his body, and as much as I try, I can’t stop. Heat blooms in my cheeks when an ache builds between my thighs. What the hell, Hanna?
“Is it always this steep?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light though my breath is ragged.
Jordan slows his pace, letting me catch up. “You’ve been here before. You tell me.”
“I don’t remember it being this bad,” I mutter, forcing a weak laugh.
He smirks, his expression softening enough to send a flutter through my chest. “Maybe you were more distracted by the company last time.”
The memory of Keenan’s laugh bubbles up, bittersweet and sharp. I glance at Jordan, expecting him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes hold mine for a long beat before he turns and continues up the trail.
I force myself to focus on the path ahead, but my eyes keep drifting back to him—the heavy rhythm of his steps, the way his shoulders move with an effortless strength. Why am I so unsettled? This is Jordan—not a date.
“It’s not just the trail,” I admit quietly.
Jordan looks over his shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly. “No,” he says, his voice softer now. “It’s not.”
The trail evens out as we reach the clearing, and I stop in my tracks. The sight before me steals the breath from my lungs.
Golden light filters through the trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of shadow and warmth. The clearing is bordered by towering pines, branches reaching for the sky like a cathedral. In the center, a flat, mammoth boulder stands, unchanged from the last time we were here.
I step forward, my chest tightening.
“This is it,” Jordan says quietly.
I nod, unable to speak. My gaze returns to the rock, and it’s as if Keenan is still here, teasing Jordan about being too serious. His voice echoes through my memories.
“He loved this place,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “This place is more beautiful than I remember.”
Jordan doesn’t respond, but he steps closer.
It feels like Keenan should be leaning against a tree, waiting for us.
I swallow hard and reach into my bag, pulling out the urn. My hands shake as I grip it, the smooth metal cold against my palms. It feels impossibly heavy, more than it should.
Jordan remains quiet as he stands beside me. He rubs his hand over his face like he’s trying to erase his grief. He looks down briefly but raises his head quickly and meets my eyes, nodding.
It’s time.
We climb to the top of the boulder. My knees tremble as I open the urn and slowly dip my hand into the ashes, which are unexpectedly fine and silky. I fill my hand and raise it, my heart racing as I open it and let the ashes slip through my fingers.
“Goodbye, Keenan,” I murmur, my voice breaking on the last word.
Keenan scatters a handful of ashes into the breeze. Watching them catch the sunlight and get carried away in the wind tears a piece of my heart away, and my eyes mist over.
Jordan kneels beside me, his hand brushing mine as he steadies the urn. My breath catches, and I can’t move. I glance at him, and his expression is unreadable, but something in his eyes makes the world feel less heavy. A new connection blooms between us, fierce and bold.
The ache in my chest eases as I look at him. His presence gives me strength. Why have I never noticed how comfortable I am with him? I have other close friends, but I can’t imagine sharing this trip and these moments with anyone else. Jordan is my rock. How is he still single?
The trail dips suddenly, and I step wrong, my boot catching on a root half-buried in the dirt. My ankle twists and throws me off balance.
“Ah—”
The sound is barely out before Jordan’s arm shoots out and wraps around my waist. My body sways, and he steadies me. I exhale heavily when I realize I nearly went headfirst down a hiking trail. If it weren’t for Jordan, I’d be injured.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low. His breath brushes my ear, and I can’t stop the shiver dancing over my skin.
For a moment, the only thing I’m aware of is the warmth of his hand on my waist, the strength in his grip. His fingers linger, and the heat of his palm seeps through my jacket and across my skin.
“You okay?” he asks, his tone calm, holding a tenderness that nearly dissolves the wall around my emotions. The certainty that he would do anything to protect me takes my breath away.
“Yeah,” I manage, though my voice sounds more breathless than it should. I straighten quickly, brushing at my jacket as if the motion will wipe away the tension curling in my core. “Just didn’t see that root.”
Jordan doesn’t let go right away, moving his hand to my elbow to bracing me until I’m sure I won’t stumble again. When he finally releases me, it feels abrupt, like the absence of his touch has left a mark.
“Take it slow,” he says, stepping back to give me space. But his eyes linger on me, scanning like he’s ensuring I’m okay. “The sun’s going to set soon.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”
He nods in return but pauses a moment longer before turning and starting down the trail again.
I fall into step behind him, my heart thudding harder than the climb can account for. The surrounding forest is alive with the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, but I can’t focus on any of it. My eyes keep drifting to Jordan—the sure way he moves, the easy strength in his shoulders, and the flex of his hands around his pack straps. Long dormant parts of my body awaken as I watch the supple flexing of his muscles. Has Jordan always been this sexy?
We reach a fallen log, its surface moss-covered and damp.
Jordan pauses. “Let’s take a break,” he says, slipping his backpack off and placing it on the ground next to the log.
I don’t argue, sinking onto the log with a grateful sigh. My legs ache, and the air feels heavier the further we go.
Jordan remains standing as he takes a long drink from the water bottle. The light shifts through the leaves above him, catching in his hair and softening the hard angles of his face.
I sneak a glance at him, trying not to stare. But it’s impossible to ignore the way Jordan looks at me. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed, but this time, it feels different—like there is a deeper meaning than plain friendship.
I can be myself around him in a way I can’t with my friends. I’ve only ever felt this comfortable around Keenan. It shouldn’t surprise me that I feel the same way with Jordan, but it does. I thought Keenan was the only person who I could relax around. Then again, I never had the chance to spend much time with Jordan one-on-one. What would have happened if I’d known him before Keenan?
I break the silence before it can swallow me whole. “I used to think Keenan was the only person who truly understood me,” I say, unable to hide the trembling in my voice. “But now, I think… maybe I was wrong.”
Jordan’s expression shifts, the muscles in his jaw tightening before he replies. “He did understand you,” he says. “But I see parts of you he didn’t.”
Jordan looks away first, his hand reaching for the strap of his pack. The movement is casual, but I catch the tension in his shoulders.
I stand, finally having caught my breath. I brush my hands on my pants, the motion automatic as I try to shake off the weight of the moment. “We should keep moving,” I say, my voice brisk.
Jordan straightens, his eyes flicking to mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The space between us feels charged, and my pulse quickens as his eyes hold mine.
My mind swirls with conflicted emotions. In any other circumstance, I’d let myself fall into the emotions that Jordan stirs in me. But now? All I can think about is how he was Keenan’s best friend.
If I give in to these feelings, am I betraying Keenan?