Chapter 2 #2
He shouldn’t care. Had no right to care. Xander was steady, careful, thoughtful—everything Eden clearly wanted. The kind of guy who followed protocol and came home safe every night.
The kind of guy Teague would never be.
Liam leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Cool. Let’s talk about it anyway.” Liam’s expression shifted to something more serious. “Eden’s not wrong, you know. About the risk thing.”
“Et tu, Liam?”
“I’m just saying. I’ve seen you work. You’re good—probably the best technical climber on the team. But you take chances that don’t need to be taken.” He paused. “Nimue asked me once if you had a death wish. I didn’t know what to tell her.”
The words landed like a punch. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“You sure about that?”
Teague didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because the truth was, he’d been asking himself the same question ever since Eden had thrown those nine words at him like a grenade.
You decided his life was more important than yours.
Had he? Was that what he’d been doing all along—not trying to save people, but trying to find a way to make his own survival mean something?
“The closure might be good for you,” Liam said quietly. “Force you to slow down. Figure some things out.”
“I don’t need to figure anything out.”
“Right.” Liam clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well, when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, you know where to find me.
” He started down the hallway, then paused.
“Oh, and Hamilton? Whatever’s going on with you and Eden—maybe try actually talking to her.
Instead of, you know, antagonizing her boyfriend. ”
“He’s not her boyfriend.”
Liam’s grin was infuriating. “Maybe not. But he’s closer than you are after your stunt today.”
Then he was gone, leaving Teague alone in the empty hallway.
The building hummed around him—air-conditioning, distant footsteps, the creak of old walls settling. Outside, the canyon stretched endlessly, layers of rust red and burnished gold catching the midday light.
Beautiful. And completely indifferent to whether he lived or died.
Teague pressed his back against the wall and let out a long breath.
He’d failed Chip. Was he failing his team now? Eden?
He didn’t know how to fix any of it. Didn’t know how to be the person everyone needed him to be when he couldn’t even figure out why he kept throwing himself into danger.
All he knew was that he had to keep moving. Keep reaching.
Even if he didn’t know what he was reaching for anymore.
What if the real danger wasn’t freezing up—but not knowing when to stop?
Just maintenance. Just staying in shape. Just…She gripped the doorframe harder.
Eden hung suspended in the bathroom doorway of her staff cabin, toes barely brushing the worn floor. Three sets of twenty—that was the rule. Enough to maintain strength and control, but not enough to slip back into old patterns. Not enough to admit what she was really doing.
Her quarters told the story she wanted people to believe—a narrow bed with a faded quilt, a battered desk, bare walls.
Functional. Grounded. The only crack in the facade was two photographs tacked above the desk.
One was of her and Sierra at the base of El Capitan six years ago, chalk-dusted and grinning like they owned the world.
The other was her with her three siblings and her mom by the Christmas tree, taken four months before she moved here.
Back when she’d still been climbing. Back when Landon had still been alive.
The Bible on her desk had a thick layer of dust. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opened it. Couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to.
Virgil’s announcement had only come a few hours ago and then had hit national news stations at six. Before she could fully process. Before she could figure out what came next. Before she was ready to answer Mara’s questions.
Her sister’s voice crackled through the phone propped on the nightstand. “Are you even listening to me?”
Eden lowered herself down and shook out her hands, eyeing her sister’s face on screen. “I’m listening.”
“You’re doing pull-ups.”
“I can multitask.”
“You’re avoiding.” Mara’s chin-length blonde hair fell across her forehead as she leaned closer to the camera. “Mom wants you home for her birthday. And before you give me another excuse about work, I already know the park is closing.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to come home.”
“You haven’t been home since the funeral.” Mara’s eyes narrowed with sisterly suspicion. “You’re avoiding us because you’re afraid we’ll see through you.”
Eden crossed to her bed and dropped onto the thin mattress. The springs protested. “See through me to what?”
“To the fact that you’re miserable. That you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.”
“I’m not pretending anything.” Eden sat up straighter. “I like my job. I like my life.”
“You can like your new life without leaving your old life behind.” A pause. “Sierra asked about you again. I ran into her at the store.”
Eden froze, her gaze darting to the photo of her old friend. “What did you tell her?”
“What I always tell everyone. You’re off finding yourself, and you will reach out when you’re ready. But I should have told her the truth. You’re hiding.”
“I’m finding stability.”
“Same thing, the way you do it. I can’t believe you haven’t talked to any of them since you moved there.”
Mara didn’t get it. How could she? It wasn’t her fiancé who’d died. Eden stood, leaving Mara facing the ceiling, and moved back to the pull-up bar. The metal was cold against her palms.
One. “I have a stable career.” Or did as of a few hours ago, and she still held out hope that she’d be reassigned to one of the positions they were keeping on.
Two. “A place to live.”
Three. “Colleagues who respect me.”
“And no joy. No passion. No risk. No friends.” Mara’s voice followed her.
Four. “I have friends. Nimue is moving into my extra room in the morning.”
But Mara wasn’t done. “I remember when you used to be alive, Eden. Actually alive. Not this version who counts pull-ups and follows protocols and acts like feeling anything is dangerous.”
Five. Six. Seven.
“Risk gets people killed,” Eden said through gritted teeth. “Remember?”
Silence.
Then, softer: “Eden. Landon’s death wasn’t your fault. It was that climbing thing that failed.”
“His cam.” The correction came automatically. “A spring-loaded camming device. And when they fail, people die.”
“Nobody’s asking you to free solo again. But you can’t spend your whole life running from who you are.”
“I’m not running. I’m choosing.”
“You’re hiding.”
“I’m surviving.”
The word hung sharp in the air. Before Mara could respond, someone knocked on the cabin door.
Eden dropped from the bar. “Hold on.”
She crossed the room and pulled open the door.
Teague stood on her front steps, hands shoved in his pockets, auburn curls lit by the porch light. He looked different than he had during the rescue—no cocky grin, no easy confidence. Just tired eyes and an uncertain expression she’d never seen on him before.
“Hey.” His voice was rough. “Can we talk?”
Eden was acutely aware of her flushed cheeks, her sweaty tank top, the pull-up bar visible behind her. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I can see that.” His gaze flicked to her reddened palms. “Interesting something.”
“It’s called exercise. Some of us do it.”
“Some of us do it outside, on actual rocks.”
“Some of us have better sense.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Can I come in? Just for a minute.”
Something in his voice made her step back. “Fine. But make it quick.”
He entered, boots scuffing against the floor, and scanned the room—the sparse furniture, the bare walls, the photographs above her desk. His gaze landed on the pull-up bar. Then dropped to her hands.
“Those are climbers’ calluses.”
“Those are none of your business.”
“You’re training.” Not a question.
“I’m staying in shape. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He stepped closer. “Because I’ve done enough climbing drills to recognize the grip work. The faint smudges left behind from doorframe hangs. The—”
“Did you just come here to interrogate me?”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I came to—”
A small squeak came from the phone.