Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sienna
There were many things in life I considered myself good at, like trail navigation, improvised wilderness first aid, choosing the perfect marshmallow stick, and avoiding emotional vulnerability like it carried the plague.
But deception?
Not one of my strengths.
Which became painfully obvious the moment my sisters caught me staring—frowning—scowling?—at the guide assignment calendar pinned to the Honey Leaf Lodge kitchen corkboard.
I wasn’t even trying to make a face. It just… happened.
Unfortunately, Violet was a bloodhound for facial expressions.
“What,” she said, leaning against the counter while stirring her tea, “is happening on your face?”
“Nothing.” I waved her off.
Fifi walked in behind her, arms filled with linen napkins and the energy of a woman who had already alphabetized the spice rack twice this morning. “Oh no. No, no, no. That is not a nothing face. That is a something face.”
“It’s not a something.”
“Really?” Violet asked, squinting at me. “Because that’s the exact look you made when you set your hair on fire, roasting marshmallows in ninth grade.”
“That was one time,” I muttered. “And it was a light singe.”
“What’s going on?” Fifi asked, setting the napkins down in suspicious slow motion. “And no lying. You’re bad at it.”
I opened my mouth to deny everything again, but Violet leaned forward, eyes narrowing like a wildlife predator.
“Something happened with Carson.” Her brows lifted.
My entire soul froze.
“I, what, who…Carson? I barely know… that man…” I cleared my throat.
“Oh wow, that was convincing,” Fifi deadpanned. “Truly Oscar-worthy.”
“I just… I was…we—”
“You stuttered,” Violet announced to the kitchen. “Sienna is stuttering. That’s it. Something definitely happened.”
“Sienna never stutters,” Fifi agreed.
“I stutter sometimes!”
“No, you don’t,” they said in unison.
I turned to the calendar again in a desperate attempt to escape their attention with the power of ignoring reality. It did not work because there, directly next to the neon yellow label reading APRIL BACKCOUNTRY RETREATS, was my name.
And next to it?
Carson Reed.
Three trips in a row.
Three.
Back-to-back weeks—me, him, wilderness, unavoidable proximity, tent situations…
My hand came up to my eyes, and I rubbed them hard.
Of course, this was the universe punishing me for having feelings.
“Okay,” Violet said slowly, “your face just went through six emotions, and I only recognized fear and longing.”
Fifi gasped theatrically. “Longing!”
“NOT longing,” I choked. “More like… dread.”
“That’s worse,” Violet pointed out.
“No, it’s not!”
“Sienna,” Fifi said gently, “did something weird happen between you two? Did someone say something about needing space? Did he tell you he doesn’t want to guide with you?”
That hit a little too close.
Because the truth was:
He hadn’t said that.
I had from the moment I met him.
Accidentally.
Sort of.
The lodge was warm.
The calendar glared at me.
My sisters stared like interrogation lamps.
And my mouth opened without permission.
“He doesn’t need my help,” I blurted.
Their jaws dropped in tandem.
Fifi’s eyebrows shot up. “He told you that?”
“No!” I said quickly. “No. I told him that.”
Violet put a hand dramatically to her chest. “Oof.”
“I meant professionally!” I sputtered. “Guiding! He’s good. He doesn’t need me to babysit him on the trail!”
“But you said it like you wanted distance,” Fifi concluded.
“Yes! No! Maybe. Barcode was causing havoc, and stress overtook.”
Both sisters exchanged a look, one full of pity, amusement, and the shared understanding that their middle sister was rapidly spiraling.
“Sweetheart,” Violet said gently, “are you uncomfortable because you want distance? Or because he asked for distance?”
“No one asked for distance!”
“Yet you’re twitchy as though someone did.”
“I’m not twitchy,” I snapped.
My left eye twitched.
Both sisters gasped.
“Oh my gosh,” Violet whispered reverently. “You like him.”
“I do not…”
“You freaking LIKE him,” Fifi said, delighted.
“No, I don’t!”
“Then why do you look like someone just told you your crush is transferring schools?”
“I don’t have a crush!”
“You absolutely have a crush.”
I shook my head vigorously. “No! No crush! I’m just— wasted. From the hike. Tired. Emotionally dehydrated.”
They both nodded sympathetically.
Violet ruined it by adding, “So… you slept with him?”
I choked so hard I made a noise like a dying goose.
“That’s a yes,” Fifi said.
“That’s a loud yes,” Violet said.
“I didn’t SAY yes!”
“You didn’t have to,” they said again in unison.
I covered my face with both hands and mumbled into my palms, “Please drop it.”
“We can’t,” Violet said. “We need details.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Was it cute?” Fifi asked. “Was it sexy? Did you let him lead? Did you tumble into it accidentally?”
“Please stop talking for the love of everything I hold dear.”
“Did you make out in the woods? Or the tent? Or—”
“Tent!” I shouted, losing all composure.
Both sisters froze, and Violet squealed. Actually squealed.
“You slept with him in a tent? That is so on brand for you, Sienna.”
“It’s not!” I paced a short, frantic circle around the island.
“It wasn’t… I mean, yes… but no. It’s complicated!”
“In what world,” Fifi said calmly, “is sleeping with a man in a tent on a work trip not complicated?”
“Plus, the honeymooners definitely thought you two were married,” Violet reminded me. “The review said as much, and now we know why.”
“Yes!” I laughed. “They did! They literally thought we were the Guide Couple. They invited us to kiss for photos!”
Fifi clasped her hands together. “And? Did you?”
“No!” I paused. “…maybe once.”
Both of my sisters shrieked.
“It was just a kiss!” I insisted. “A small kiss!”
A lie.
Nothing with him felt small.
I was doomed.
“What even started it?” Violet demanded.
“Frigid temperatures.” Words failed. Spectacularly.
“Oh my gosh, Sienna.” Fifi covered her mouth. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“I know!” I groaned.
“No,” Violet corrected, “not that kind of trouble. The other kind. The feelings kind.”
My entire rib cage clenched. “No. Wrong. Incorrect. I am not in love.”
“We didn’t say love,” Fifi said. “You did.”
I screamed internally.
Then, as if my humiliation wasn’t complete, the lodge door opened, and I tensed like a hunted creature.
But it wasn’t Carson.
It was Beck.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully, then stopped. “Wow. What happened to your face?”
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“Looks like something happened. You look like you’re trying not to confess to a crime.”
Violet and Fifi erupted into giggles.
“She slept with Carson!” Violet blurted.
“VI!” I shrieked.
Beck froze. Blinked. Blinked again. “Wait— Carson? Like guide Carson? Like tall, silent, broody, mountain man Carson?”
I covered my face again. “Please stop saying words.”
“Oh damn,” Beck said. “So that’s why he was all weird the other night.”
“What?” I yelped. “Weird how?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said too casually. “Just… pacing outside his cabin like he was preparing a speech or rehearsing a breakup or something.”
I choked. “A breakup? You just said… we’re not even. That’s not—”
Beck grinned. “Man’s in a blender.”
Violet nodded sympathetically. “So is Sienna.”
“I’m not,” I insisted to the heavens.
“Yes, you are,” all three said.
I groaned into my hands. “He doesn’t need my help with the trips. He’s good at what he does. Better than good. And I told him he didn’t need me, and now things are weird and awkward and…”
“And you like him,” Fifi finished again.
I rested my head gently on the counter.
Beck clapped my back. “Hey. Don’t worry. If things go horribly wrong, the zebra will comfort you.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered. “I’m moving to Alaska permanently.”
Violet leaned against the counter, arms crossed, grin wide. “So when are you telling him?”
I shot upright, horrified. “Never!”
“Sienna,” Fifi said softly, “you’re twitching again.”
“No, I’m not!”
My knee twitched.
Everything on me was twitching.
Violet sighed dramatically. “You can’t hide it. He likes you. You like him. You’re on three more trips together. This is going to get messy. But maybe… good messy.”
I folded my arms so tight my ribs protested. “It’s not going to be anything. It’s done. It was one time. Heat-of-the-moment wilderness insanity. He probably regrets it.”
Even as I said it, my stomach twisted.
Because Carson Reed did not strike me as a man who regretted things.
Beck scoffed. “He does not regret it. The man looked ready to chop down a whole forest to burn off emotions.”
Violet nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. He had that ‘silent tension’ vibe. Like a man writing poetry in his head but refusing to admit it.”
“Carson doesn’t write poetry,” I whispered.
“He does now,” Fifi sang.
My sisters burst into laughter.
And despite everything, the humiliation, the panic, the absolute terror of my emotions being on blast, I felt something warm thread through me.
Family chaos.
Love.
Support.
Even if it came wrapped in teasing.
I let out a long, shaky breath.
“I am not falling for Carson,” I said firmly. “I refuse.”
“Okay,” Violet said, patting my shoulder. “We believe you.”
They didn’t.
I didn’t either.
Because when I closed my eyes, I could still feel the way he held me after I fell into the lake. The way he whispered my name in the tent. The way he looked at me when I said I didn’t want to hurt him.
And worst of all, I could still feel the moment right before I kissed him.
The moment I stopped running and let myself want him.
I swallowed hard.
Then the lodge door opened again.
And this time?
It was Carson.
He stepped in, flannel rolled at the sleeves, hair windswept, eyes landing on me instantly.
And my sisters gasped in unison.
Because my expression changed.
Because my heart betrayed me.
Because something in me softened without permission.
And Violet whispered, loud enough for everyone:
“Oh yeah. She’s a goner.”