Chapter 7 #3
Sierra’s hand found Eden’s and squeezed tight. “What if you don’t?” Her voice was soft but steady. “What if the reward of this whole journey—getting back on the rock, coming here—what if it isn’t just about climbing? What if it’s about learning to live again?”
The words hit her square in the chest.
The reward of this journey wasn’t just getting back on the rock. It was this. She could feel something other than grief. She could imagine a future that wasn’t just survival but actually living. She could sit in this lodge and let herself hope for something she thought she’d lost the right to want.
Around them, people swayed to the music. A phone flashlight flickered up, then another, until the whole room glowed with tiny lights held aloft—a constellation of stars in this wooden lodge on the edge of the canyon.
It was cheesy.
And perfect.
She met Teague’s eyes across the room and offered the smallest nod. Nothing anyone else would catch. Just a barely there tilt of her chin, an acknowledgment.
I see you. I hear what you’re saying.
And I’m not running.
Teague noticed.
His whole face lit up as if she’d just promised him all new gear.
And in that moment, she knew she’d been seen. Not just the gesture, but all of her. He knew how difficult this was for her. He knew it took every ounce of her bravery just to stay in that chair. He knew she was still terrified.
And he was there for it anyway.
All of it. The good. The bad. The unknown.
His singing gained energy and grew more enthusiastic even as his pitch went a little sharp. The grin he wore spread across his face until his eyes crinkled at the corners, until she could see the dimple beneath his scruff.
She could see the joy ripple through him. The relief. The pure, unfiltered hope.
He nearly stumbled over the next lyric, caught himself, and threw his head back laughing before diving back in with even more enthusiasm.
Sierra squeezed her hand again. “On belay.”
The climbing term—not only committing to the climb but also the promise of safety, of someone watching out for you, of being caught if you fell—made Eden’s throat tight.
The song continued, and Eden found herself mouthing the words along with him. She knew this song. Had heard it a hundred times on road trips and in climbing gyms and at summer cookouts.
But tonight it sounded like Teague had written it just for her. Every line about leaving the pain of the past behind and opening her heart landed differently when the person singing them seemed to understand what he was asking of her.
Even if he couldn’t quite hit all the right notes.
Xander slid into an empty chair at her table, shaking his head with something between amusement and disbelief. “I cannot believe you got him up there.”
Eden tore her gaze from Teague. “I didn’t.”
Xander’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” He leaned forward on the table with his elbows. “I talked to him earlier. There was no way he was getting up there.”
Eden glanced back at Teague, who was working through the bridge now, his eyes closing for a moment as he concentrated on the notes. The light caught the strong line of his jaw, the way his shoulders moved with the music.
“Well, he’d better be good to my girl.” Sierra crossed her arms, but warmth softened her voice.
“Oh, I think he plans to be very good to her.” Xander’s smile came easy, his gaze bounced between her and Sierra. “I haven’t known Teague Hamilton long, but I’ve already learned—when he sets his mind on something, he goes full tilt. No half measures.”
Eden’s mind snagged on the words.
Full tilt.
They should have been reassuring. Instead, they sent a thread of panic weaving through her joy.
The man didn’t know how to do anything halfway. He probably flossed with the same intensity he brought to search and rescue missions.
But full tilt also meant a spectacular crash when things went wrong. And she’d already lived through that kind of devastation once.
Landon had loved her fully too. Had given her everything—his heart, his future, his whole self. And when he was gone, the void he left had been big enough to swallow her whole. She’d nearly drowned in it. Had spent two years clawing her way back to the surface.
The whisper of doubt crept in even as Teague sang, even as the pull toward him grew stronger with every note.
This could end very badly.
Loving someone with that kind of intensity meant the loss would be equally intense if it fell apart. If something happened. If he took one too many risks and the canyon finally won.
Sierra’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Hey.” Sharp. Knowing. “I see that look. Stop overthinking.”
Eden’s gaze snapped to her friend.
“I know you’re scared.” Sierra’s pale-green eyes held hers. “But look at him. He’s terrified too. You think getting up there and basically declaring his feelings in song form isn’t scary? Especially when he can’t actually sing?” A wry smile. “But he’s doing it anyway.”
Eden watched Teague navigate the bridge, his voice catching on one of the higher notes before he found his footing again. When his eyes opened, they found hers immediately.
Like she was magnetic north.
Like he couldn’t help but orient himself toward her.
Sierra continued, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re already braver than you think, Eden. You signed up for this team. You climbed. You’re sitting here right now instead of running.”
Something bloomed in Eden’s chest. Warm and terrifying and wonderful all at once.
She wanted to be brave like Sierra. She wanted to be the kind of person who jumped even when the landing wasn’t guaranteed. Who trusted that even if she fell, she’d survive it.
She had survived losing Landon. It had nearly killed her—had come closer than anyone knew—but she was still here. Still breathing. Still capable of something other than grief.
Still capable of feeling this.
The song wound down now, and Teague gave it everything he had. His voice cracked slightly on the final chorus, but he pushed through, that grin never leaving his face. The lodge held its breath as he hit the last note—a little flat, but full of heart.
Full of hope.
The whole room erupted.
Applause and whistles and stomping feet. Someone whooped from the back. Someone else demanded an encore. Teague laughed and shook his head and set the microphone back in its stand, but his eyes—
His eyes never left Eden’s face.
And in that moment, watching him glow with the pure joy of having done something terrifying and survived it, Eden made a decision.
Maybe the risk was worth the reward.
Maybe full tilt wasn’t always a crash.
Maybe sometimes it was just the only way to really fly.