Chapter 7
Seven
Teague couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard.
The lodge held a fraction of its usual summer capacity, but everyone who’d remained after the closing seemed to be here—both climbing teams, remaining park staff.
Even Virgil had shown up for the spontaneous karaoke night.
But where the room would normally be packed wall-to-wall with visitors and seasonal workers, tonight there were empty tables.
Dark corners. A hollowness that made the laughter echo differently.
Teague stood near the back with a Dr Pepper he’d barely touched, his gaze sweeping the half-empty space.
Its massive log-beam ceiling disappeared into shadows thirty feet overhead.
Warm light from the iron chandeliers cast pools of amber across stone walls and white tablecloths.
The last traces of sunset were gone, leaving the floor-to-ceiling windows dark and ominous.
The scent of pine logs and old wood mingled with something sweet from the kitchen that Teague hoped would make an appearance soon.
This place had been the heart of the park every summer for years. Full of life and music and people who loved this canyon.
Now it was a ghost of itself.
Eden and Xander took a dramatic bow and exited the mini stage after an incredible duet of “I Got You Babe.” The karaoke machine’s speakers crackled with age.
Most of the performances tonight had been tolerable at best—enthusiastic but pitch-challenged—but no matter what Eden had hinted atearlier, she could not only carry a tune but, paired with Xander, also give a quality impression of Sonny and Cher.
Xander’s six-foot-three height hadn’t exactly worked for the vibe, so Eden had stood on a chair for the finale. Her chin still hadn’t reached above his head, but the crowd had loved it anyway.
“I don’t think there’s anything going on between them.” Noah appeared beside Teague, leaning back against the wall. His breath carried faint peppermint from the gum he was chewing.
Teague glanced over to where Eden and Xander were downing water by the song list. Xander pointed to something in the book. She shook her head, laughing—the sound bright and unguarded in a way that made Teague’s chest tighten.
But something about it didn’t strike that chord of jealousy like it might have right after the rescue.
For some reason he couldn’t quite name, he didn’t get the impression she was interested in Xander.
Kyle definitely hadn’t gotten the same message.
He sat at a round table in the middle of the room, third beer in hand, glaring at the pair.
The bottle made a hollow sound when he set it down too hard.
His jaw was tight. Shoulders rigid. Teague didn’t like the way he was looking at Eden, which was exactly why he’d been counting the guy’s beers.
Teague just nodded at Noah.
Because it didn’t really matter. She’d made it clear there was nothing between them either.
Trey trudged up the steps to the mini stage as music filled the room. The old wood creaked under his boots.
“You seem quiet.” Noah studied him. “I would’ve guessed you’d be the type to work the crowd by now.”
“You saying I’m a show-off?”
“No, I’m saying you’re usually so full of life it’s contagious. Which is okay—everyone’s allowed different moods.” Noah’s expression softened. “Just checking in. Making sure you aren’t still beating yourself up over this morning.”
Teague rolled the Dr Pepper between his palms. The aluminum was warming now, losing its chill. “I’m good. Just…wondering if I’m really as messed up as everyone seems to think.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everyone seems to think I’m reckless.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue. “I always saw it as courageous. I volunteered to be the leader because I thought I was best suited, and yet I was the one who gave in to Kyle’s taunting and then lost it for us.”
“First of all”—Noah turned to face him fully—“this isn’t about a challenge. Or proving yourself. Or even wiping that smug look off Kyle’s face—which, let’s be honest, we all want to do.”
A slight smile tugged at Teague’s mouth despite himself.
“It’s about more than that.” Noah’s voice was firm. “And you’re right—there is a fine line between courage and recklessness. Do you cross it sometimes? Yes. But you are the best person to be the leader. I guarantee you that.”
Teague didn’t answer.
On stage, Trey’s smooth twang was a mix of Johnny Cash and Kenny Rogers—more Cash in the lower register, more Rogers in the way he held the high notes. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it. Meg waved Noah over to the book of songs, her dark hair swinging.
“Oh, great.” Noah’s voice dropped. “Looks like I might have to sing.”
“Better you than me.”
Noah held up a finger to Meg—one second—and focused back on Teague.
“As a person who has led the backcountry rangers for more than two years, I’ve learned a good leader isn’t someone who does it perfectly the first time.
It’s someone who learns from their mistakes.
” His eyes held steady on Teague’s. “When I called you out on it this afternoon, you listened to me. Respected me. Took it with humility. And if I’m right, you’ve already come up with three different things you should have done differently. ”
“Five.”
“I didn’t let you have it earlier because I thought you couldn’t do the job, I let you have it because I know you are capable of doing better and have full confidence you will.”
Trey’s song ended. Applause bounced off the high ceiling.
Noah clapped him on the shoulder. “Learning. Growing. Leading.” Meg waved again—more insistently now—but Noah hesitated. “You good?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Noah walked away as Sierra bounced up the steps to the mini stage.
The opening bars of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” filled the room, and her first notes burst forth with enough dramatic flair to make the original seem understated.
Trey provided backup vocals that were more enthusiastic than accurate.
And now Liam and Nimue were joining Noah and Meg for a group number.
This isn’t about a challenge. Or proving yourself…It’s about more than that.
Noah was right.
This was why finding the cache mattered. Not just to save jobs or keep the park open on paper. But to bring people back to this place—the full tables, the crowds of seasonal workers, the energy of a community that thrived in this wilderness.
The tall, dark windows, hid the beautiful canyon beyond. But even in the few months he’d worked here, he’d fallen in love with this place. Hated seeing it empty.
He needed to fill these empty spaces with life again.
This was what they were fighting for.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” Eden appeared beside him—close enough that he caught a hint of vanilla mixed with something floral. Her shampoo, maybe. Or just…her. Her expression was knowing. Gentle. Warm lamplight caught the curve of her cheek, turned her hair honey gold.
“Just thinking.”
“That’s what worries me.” She gestured to the crowd with her water bottle. “You’re supposed to be having fun. Not planning tomorrow’s route in your head.”
“I can do both.”
“Can you?” She raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in her smile. Held his gaze a beat longer than necessary.
Those bright blue eyes saw too much. Not in an accusing way. In a gentle, knowing way.
And that.
Right there.
That look.
A softness mixed with something he couldn’t quite name. That look was why he wasn’t threatened by Xander. Or Kyle.
He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get some air before Xander drags you up there again.”
“I am still waiting for your Justin Bieber.”
“I told you. The world isn’t ready for that.”
She laughed—that bright, unguarded sound—and followed him out.
They slipped onto the lodge’s porch. The cool late-evening air was a relief after the warmth and noise inside—a twenty-degree drop since sunset.
Stars emerged in the night sky like pinpricks of light against darkening velvet.
A crescent moon offered just enough illumination to trace the jagged silhouettes of plateaus and spires that rose up the canyon.
Teague stepped past the rocking chairs and sat on the low rock wall, letting his feet dangle above the canyon.
Juniper and sun-warmed stone surrounded him—cooler now but still holding the day’s heat.
Behind them, muffled through the tall windows, Sierra hit a high note that made several people cheer.
“This is nice.” Eden settled next to him on the wall. Close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Close enough that he could feel warmth radiating off her skin despite the cooling air. The only sound was an owl that called somewhere in the distance.
Teague let the silence stretch.
Comfortable in a way that surprised him.
Usually he needed to fill quiet moments. To stay busy. To keep moving forward. But sitting here with Eden, watching the canyon walls fade into shadow…
This was right.
“Can I ask you something?” Eden’s voice was soft. Almost hesitant.
“Always.”
“How old was Chip?”
The question should have brought that sharp pinch of dread. That instinctive flinch away from the wound. But somehow, when she asked, it didn’t.
Normally he hated talking about it. Deflected. Changed the subject. Built walls so high no one could see over them.
But he wanted Eden to know. Wanted her to understand what drove him. Why the thought of not being there for someone that he cared about terrified him more than any climb ever could.
“He was eighteen. Almost nineteen.” Teague stared out at the darkness, his throat tight. The night air cooled the moisture gathering in his eyes. “It was supposed to be a simple family hike. Low key. Nothing technical.”
A pause. The owl called again—closer now.
“Chip was being reckless. Like always. Trying to get a laugh. Only he misjudged the pitch of the slope.” His voice dropped. “I saw it in his eyes the moment he realized he’d made a mistake.”
Eden didn’t say anything. But her hand found his on the stone wall. Warm. Steady.