Chapter 16
Time crystallized, sharp as the edge of a granite cliff face in winter. Sabrina’s lungs seized, every molecule of oxygen frozen in place.
“You’re, um, what?” she wheezed, her throat closing as the mattress turned into quicksand, trapping her in a quagmire she’d never seen coming.
“I’m in love with you, Sabrina,” Noah repeated, probably not as harshly as it sounded to her. But the words raked through her, impossible to unhear.
The pause lengthened, gaining teeth, the way it did right before a storm hit the canyon, when the air crackled with doom and destruction, and the smart move was to get off the mountain before lightning struck.
But there was nowhere to go. No escape route, no backup plan, no clear path down.
“You can’t be.” Good grief, was that her voice?
Noah’s brows knitted. “What? Why not?”
“Because,” she ground out hoarsely, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed glass, “that’s not what we’re doing here.”
And he wasn’t supposed to make her feel like this—exposed, raw, as if he’d stripped away more than just her clothes.
“It’s most definitely what we’re doing here. Sabrina—”
But he reached for her then and she couldn’t. Could. Not. Do. This. No.
She needed air. Space. Room to think past the buzzing in her head that sounded suspiciously like warning bells. The sheet tangled around her legs as she scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed in her haste.
Noah didn’t try to stop her. Just watched with that intense gaze that never wavered, never faltered, never changed. Because he’d always looked at her like that. And she’d missed the signs. Had never even thought to question how much of that intensity burned for her.
“Sabrina.” His voice carried that same whatever it was that had drawn her in from the start.
It burrowed beneath her skin, inexplicably calming her.
And that was exactly the problem. She didn’t need him to do that. She didn’t need him at all. Or anyone. The minute you depended on someone else was the minute they proved you shouldn’t have.
“Stop doing that,” she ordered, backing away. “Stop saying all that stuff.”
Her hands trembled as she grabbed for her clothes, scattered across the floor like confetti for a party that she hadn’t realized she’d been invited to.
“Okay.” Noah’s quiet acceptance somehow made it worse. He should be angry, frustrated, something. Not this infinite patience that made her feel like she was the one being unreasonable. “We can talk about something else.”
A harsh laugh escaped her. Not because it was funny but because…well, she didn’t know what it was. She’d never been in this place before, where it felt like she needed to claw her skin off so she could breathe.
“I don’t think that’s how this works,” she muttered, shoving a hand through her hair, wishing it was tied back, but Noah had pulled her rubber band out long ago and she had no idea where it was.
“You don’t just move on to a new subject after…
” She waved a hand in a big, erratic circle. Which pretty much summed up everything.
“Dropping an emotional bombshell on you?” His lips quirked slightly. “Tell me what you’d like me to do instead then.”
Whirling, she yanked her shirt over her head, needing some kind of armor. Even if it felt about as effective as tissue paper against a rockslide. “Why am I the one who has to decide?”
The bed creaked as Noah sat up, keeping his distance. Smart man. “Because you’re the one who matters.”
The room just sort of tilted then. But there was nothing for her to grab onto to steady herself against the onslaught of Noah. Her heart just…liquefied.
What was happening?
She wrapped her arms around herself, cold despite the warm room. This was exactly the kind of thing she hadn’t signed up for—the way he said these impossibly romantic things as if they were simple facts.
As if loving someone came as easily to him as breathing.
“You matter too,” she whispered so softly that it was a wonder he heard her, but the softening around his mouth told her there was nothing wrong with his hearing.
“That’s why I’m still here.”
The catch in his voice undid her. Such simple words. They shouldn’t make her chest ache like she’d taken a hundred-foot whipper fall, the rope catching just before impact.
“You shouldn’t be.” She paced to the window, then back. The room suddenly felt as confining as taking the wrong turn into one of the inaccessible canyons, walls pressing in, no obvious escape route. “You should be running away as fast as you can.”
“Because that’s what everyone else does to you?”
Yeah. Exactly, Sabrina thought to herself.
His gaze burned into her back, but she didn’t dare glance at him. Whatever magic trick he thought he was going to pull to make this okay wasn’t happening.
“Because all this emotional stuff isn’t what we’re doing here. We’re having fun. That’s all.”
Fun was safe. Fun didn’t require vulnerability or trust or any of the hundred other things relationships demanded. Fun didn’t plunk her down at a crossroads where she had to choose to give up Noah or wait around until he inevitably decided she was too much.
Of course, given the current state of things, Noah didn’t feel like so much of a flight risk all at once.
She was the one who got that role.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I am having fun.” His voice remained steady, but something flickered in his expression. “Okay, granted, not right this second. But only because I kind of thought this would play out a bit differently.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I have to know. How did you think this would play out?”
“With a lot less panic and a lot more kissing.” His brow quirked. “And in my head, neither of us were dressed.”
He still wasn’t because he hadn’t moved from where he’d sat back against the pillow, calmly taking whatever she threw at him. The guy had definitely found his calling with a profession that required meticulous patience and the ability to avoid tricky spots liable to crumble underneath him.
Also, Noah without a shirt should come with a warning label: “May cause unavoidable distraction.”
“Maybe getting dressed is a good idea,” she muttered. “And I’m not panicking.”
Very much.
“I was talking about me,” he countered, and she shot him a look. “What, you think because I’m not wailing and gnashing my teeth that this conversation is easy for me?”
Yeah, she had thought that. He was so unflappable, so strong and capable. It wasn’t like she could hurt him.
Could she?
The walls closed in tighter. Her heart thundered against her ribs like it was trying to escape. This was exactly why he should have kept things casual, uncomplicated. No one got hurt that way.
Especially not Noah.
Oh, man. How had they gotten to a place where she was the one who had the power to hurt this amazing, sensitive, beautiful man?
Because she hadn’t seen him coming. Not even a little bit. This had all happened one tiny step at a time. That first date. Training with Ripley. Working the case together. All those late-night phone calls where she’d told him things she’d never told anyone.
When had he become so essential to her daily rhythm?
“I can’t do this.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I didn’t—this kind of thing is not me. Relationships, feelings, all of it. I told you that.”
“Did you?” Noah’s head tilted. “I remember you saying men couldn’t keep up. That relationships fizzled out. But I don’t remember you saying you didn’t want one.”
Oh, she so had. She’d made it crystal clear that she didn’t trust easily, that she didn’t do commitment. Probably. Maybe.
Though now that she thought about it, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d spelled it out. She’d been too busy letting him teach her how to work with Ripley, too caught up in stolen kisses between training sessions.
Too wrapped up in how easy he made everything feel.
“Same difference.” The words felt hollow even to her own ears.
“No.” He shifted to the edge of the bed but didn’t stand. Still giving her space while refusing to back down completely. Classic Noah to read her so well that he figured out what she needed before she did. “It’s not. And you know it.”
Heat pricked behind her eyes. She blinked hard, hating how he could slice through her defenses with nothing but quiet certainty. The same way he approached everything—confident, steady, unflinching.
She’d never met anyone like him. That was the problem.
“What do you want from me, Noah?”
It came out far less demanding than she’d have preferred.
“Nothing you’re not ready to give.” The simple honesty in his voice hit her like a falling rock, impossible to dodge. “I just wanted you to know where I stand. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Another sharp laugh escaped her. As if his words hadn’t just triggered an avalanche that threatened to bury everything she’d carefully constructed. “You drop this bomb on me and act like it’s no big deal?”
Her fingers itched for something to climb, some physical challenge to tackle. Anything to escape the intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to see straight through to all the dark places she tried to keep hidden.
“It is a big deal.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in ways that shouldn’t make her heart clench. “But if you’re afraid, it doesn’t have to change anything you’re not ready to change.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to get angry, push back, prove that he was just like all the others who didn’t have any intention of sticking with her no matter what.
Instead, he just sat there, radiating that impossible patience that made her want to throw something at his head. Or kiss him. Maybe both.
“I’m not afraid.” The denial felt like chalk dust on her tongue, dry and bitter. Her father’s voice echoed in her head: Fear is for the weak. Winners don’t show weakness.
His eyebrow lifted. “No? Then why are you halfway to the door?”
She glanced down, realizing she had unconsciously shifted toward the exit, her body already plotting an escape route she hadn’t consciously chosen. Heat crawled up her neck. “I don’t run from things.”
“Exactly.” Something knowing flickered in his eyes. Like he’d been waiting for her to arrive at this exact point, the sneaky jerk. “So, why start now?”
The question sliced through all the barriers she’d tried to place between them. He was right—running wasn’t her style. She tackled everything head-on, at full speed, screw the consequences. It was her trademark, her defining characteristic.
Except this felt different. Scarier than any exposed ridgeline or technical climbing sequence. At least with those, she knew the rules. Keep three points of contact. Check your gear. Trust your training.
But there was no training manual for this. No safety gear to check. Just Noah and his steady presence and these impossible feelings that threatened to sweep her away like a flash flood.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” The words came out small and fragile as a spider web.
“Say you’ll stay.” He held out a hand but didn’t move closer. Another classic Noah move—offering connection while letting her choose whether to take it. “Say we can keep being us, keep having fun, keep figuring this out together. That’s all I’m asking for.”
She stared at his outstretched hand. The same one that had guided her through SAR training, steadied her on climbs, traced fire across her skin.
It would be easy to take his hand. She wanted to.
She didn’t move.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” His voice held absolute certainty, the kind that could weather any storm. “No pressure. No timeline. No expectations beyond what you’re ready for.”
“But you just said…”
“That I’ve fallen for you. Yeah.”
He shrugged, the motion drawing her attention to those shoulders she’d been mapping with her hands not so long ago. Those capable shoulders, broad enough to hold up under the weight of a woman who was most definitely freaking out.
“So, what?” she asked. “We just go on like it’s fine that you’re in love with me and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing?”
He smiled. “I have some ideas about what you could be doing, if you’d like to hear them. Otherwise, yeah. I’ll be over here in love with you, and you’ll be over there figuring out what you want to do about it.”
“That’s not fair to you,” she protested.
“Let me worry about that. I’m a big boy. I can handle my own feelings.”
Something inside her chest cracked. Just a hairline fracture, but she felt it all the same. Because that was Noah in a nutshell—giving her exactly what she needed without demanding anything in return. He knew how to handle her moods and personality quirks. Somehow.
His hand remained steady between them. An offer, not a demand. Like everything else about him.
Good grief, she’d never had a chance, had she?
“Sabrina, do you want to stay or go?”
She should say go. Should walk away before this got even more complicated. Before the hairline crack in her chest spread into a full-blown fissure that she couldn’t patch.
But her feet wouldn’t move.
The truth lodged in her throat—she did want to stay. Wanted to keep having this whatever it was with him. Wanted his laughter and his steady presence and the way he made her feel like she might not be broken after all, that he might be the only person in the world who truly got her.
“If I stay, I’m probably going to screw this up,” she warned him.
“The woman who always wants to be the best at everything? I highly doubt it.” He wiggled his fingers in her direction. “Though, if you want to let me win, I’m totally okay with that.”
A reluctant laugh rumbled from her throat. So it was working again, apparently. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Part of my charm.” His grin widened, familiar and devastating.
Maybe they didn’t have to figure everything out right now. Maybe she could just stay. See what happened when she stopped fighting so hard against the inevitable pull between them and let it happen. To hear him tell it, he was fine with that.
His hand remained outstretched.
She took it and the earth didn’t split open.
Noah tugged her closer, but didn’t try to pull her down to the bed. Just drew her between his knees and rested his forehead against her stomach, quiet for a long beat before he murmured, “Thank you.”
He was trembling.
Oh, man, she’d done that to him. Her heart did a slow dive to the floor. “For what?”
“For not running.” His breath was warm through her shirt, settling inside her chest. “For giving us a chance to figure this out.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the moment, the connection, unfold inside her.
Maybe this was what trust felt like.
Or maybe she’d just set herself up to fail. And maybe she’d take Noah down with her.