Chapter 2 #2
We’re just…friends.
Yup. He was a big fat liar. He cast one last glance at Sarah. Oops. The knowing smirk on her face, the way she wiggled her eyebrows…He had no doubt the woman was on to him.
Meg climbed into the Jeep with her face drawn and pale and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Noah’s fingers gripped the wheel. He’d keep her safe, no matter what. From treasure hunters, from cave collapses, from her own grief if he could.
The road stretched into the desert and wound through scrub brush and twisted junipers.
Meg stared out the window and said nothing.
Noah glanced at her, and the ache in his chest deepened. He wanted to promise her it would all be okay, that she’d get past it, that the guilt would fade. But the truth was, some wounds never seemed to heal.
His hadn’t.
Which begged the question—why did he think he was the right person to help her now? He should track down Nimue or Eden. Surely they’d spend the morning with her.
Yet he also couldn’t leave her in pain. Every inch of him longed to pull her into his arms and chase away her darkness, to be the light she needed. And even if he couldn’t do that, well, he could be here.
Noah turned toward his favorite lookout—a spot few tourists knew about—as the sun climbed higher and burned away the shadows.
He wanted more for her than the path he’d chosen—running from grief, from love, from the one thing he feared most.
Hope.
For someone who didn’t want a relationship with her, Noah seemed to show up every time she turned around.
Meg leaned back in the passenger seat of Noah’s Jeep, the cracked vinyl hot beneath her thighs. The road ahead was a narrow strip of packed dirt—barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass. Scrubby pinyon pines and gnarled junipers dotted the rocky terrain. Red dust bled through sparse grass.
She fanned her baby-Yoda scrubs with the fabric sticking to her skin.
Not the look she wanted for Noah. But if anyone had seen her at her worst, it was him.
Her hands trembled in her lap. Lydia’s ashen face flashed through her mind—blue lips, still chest, vacant eyes. Her failure burned like acid in her throat.
She’d taken this job expecting dehydration and sprained ankles, maybe the occasional broken bone. Not collapsed lungs and internal bleeding. That was for the SAR team.
If Noah hadn’t been there…
She glanced at him. His gaze was fixed on the road, with one hand loose on the wheel and his jaw tight.
He’d seen her hesitate in the cave and seen her weakness—again.
Last month it had been Nimue with internal bleeding.
At least Nimue had survived.
He navigated deeper into the woods with the Jeep bouncing over ruts. Finally the landscape opened up and revealed a wide view of the canyon against a cloudless sky. A jackrabbit darted across the road ahead, then vanished into a thicket of prickly pear.
Noah pulled off at an overlook. The canyon sprawled below, vast and ancient, and was peaceful from this distance—no hint of the dangers lurking in its depths.
He put the Jeep in park and reached for a bag from the back seat.
He pointed to a cup nestled in the center console.
“One cream, two sugars, and a bear claw. Your usual.” He held out the pastry wrapped in white paper and didn’t let go until she met his gaze.
His dark brown eyes were soft and searching.
“We did all we could yesterday, Meg. You have to know that.” He released the treat and pulled out a blueberry scone for himself—his usual.
What was it about this man that made her feel seen? Like she could be herself, even if that self was messy and broken?
Meg’s fingers shook as she lifted the coffee.
He’d seen her falter. Why did he still trust her?
They climbed out and settled on the hood, the metal warm beneath them. She broke off a piece of bear claw and popped it into her mouth.
The silence between them turned heavy.
He could try to make her feel better, but she had failed Lydia. There was no other way to say it.
“I know you’re replaying every second. I am too.” Noah sipped his coffee. “We did everything right in there.”
Meg’s spine stiffened. Her eyes fixed on the canyon. “I’m fine.” She took another bite of the pastry.
“You’re not fine.” Noah’s jaw tightened. “We stabilized Lydia and gave her a chance. Her choices put her in that cave. Her choices gave her wounds we couldn’t fix.”
“But if I had—”
“No. You did everything you could.” His voice was steady. His fingers grazed hers.
Meg’s hand trembled under his touch. “I keep thinking Jeremy’s right. I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Jeremy’s twenty. He may think he’s an adult, but he’s just a kid.” Noah’s hand closed over hers. “Lydia’s death isn’t on you.”
Her throat closed, tight and burning, but his touch anchored her.
The sense of it rushed at her again—she was falling for him, had already fallen. But he didn’t want her, not enough. She’d learned that after he kissed her—then almost kissed her again—last month…and then walked away and acted as if it had never happened.
Or worse, regretted it.
But he’d still been her friend. And that’s all he wanted, clearly.
She pulled her hand away and cast him a side glance. His brow pinched as he stared at the canyon. She hated hurting him. But she couldn’t keep doing this dance of affection and regret.
She turned the cup in her hands. “So why did you bring me here?”
He stared at the canyon for a long moment. “After Mary’s death—Mary was my wife—I came to the canyon to escape.”
Meg stilled and barely breathed.
He’d never opened up about Mary before and had never spoken her name in Meg’s presence.
“I came to this very spot most mornings and would stare out at the canyon, and it felt foreign—like a new start.”
“Does it still feel that way?”
He shook his head slowly, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Somehow the quiet, vast landscape became a refuge. My home.”
He looked at her. “That’s what I think you need today. A new start.” He motioned to the view.
“It is a beautiful place.” And it was—raw and dangerous and achingly beautiful.
Silence passed between them until he said, “Unfortunately, I don’t think this chaos in the park will calm down until the other chests are found. I left a message for Virgil. I’m going to talk to him about closing the park.”
Her head whipped toward him. “Would they do that?”
He shrugged and finished his scone in two bites. He brushed off his hands and pulled his knees up, then rested his boots on the bumper. “I just wish things could go back to the way they were.”
Meg turned to him and studied his profile, catching something in his tone—wistfulness, regret, longing. “The way things were before the gold…or before you kissed me in the canyon?”
He closed his eyes as his jaw worked.
Oh.
He ran a hand through his hair, until finally, “Yes.”
She shouldn’t have asked. Ouch.
But what did she expect? He’d made it clear they couldn’t move forward. Space away from her was supposed to be good for him, for them. The accident had thrown them back together. But today? It hadn’t been life that threw them together—it had been him.
He’d chosen this.
She finished her pastry and slid off the hood. Her feet hit the gravel. “I never asked you to come get me. It was your choice to bring me here. Your choice—”
“Hey.” His voice was soft, but his movements were quick.
He slid off the hood and stood in front of her, his height forcing her to tilt her head back in order to see his face.
His hands rested gently on her arms, his thumbs making small circles on her skin.
“I wasn’t saying—I didn’t mean—” He closed his eyes, then opened them.
“You have to admit it was easier before I kissed you. That changed everything. Like I opened Pandora’s box and—”
“Are you kidding me right now? Do you honestly think I never thought of you like that until you kissed me? That the attraction just started that day?” Her voice rose. “If you hadn’t kissed me then, that kiss was only a matter of time. Because if you hadn’t given in, eventually I would have.”
Oh. But yes, she’d said it. And now it was out.