Chapter 2 #3
Noah’s gaze heated. But he didn’t move. He just stood there with his broad shoulders blocking the sun and his hands gripping her arms.
Then he leaned closer with his breath warming her face.
But Meg had had enough of their push-pull.
She shook her head and stepped back, letting his hands fall away. The space between them turned thick.
“You’re right. I need the day off.” Her voice was steady despite the ache in her chest. “But I think it’s time you took me back.”
Without meeting his eyes, she walked to the passenger door and slid inside.
They drove back in silence.
Meg kept her gaze out the window. The air carried the sharp scent of sunbaked sagebrush. The sun climbed higher and was relentless.
Finally, she couldn’t take the silence. “Do you really think they might close the park?”
Noah shifted and adjusted his grip on the wheel. His voice emerged heavy. “This gold frenzy’s out of control. Too many sneaking into the canyon. If we weren’t managing tourists too, it might be easier. We need to find that gold to stop this—before more people die. Until then, it’ll only get worse.”
The boxlike corner she’d glimpsed in the cave flashed in her mind. She could have sworn it looked like the chest Nimue had found. But mentioning it would send Noah back into that cave, back into danger.
She couldn’t bear the thought of him trapped, hurt, buried under tons of rock.
Meg downed the last of her coffee, now cold and slightly bitter. “People will keep chasing it, no matter what we do.”
“Liam, Teague, and I are thinking about making a trip down and—”
“What? No! You can’t!” And with her words, her breaths turned short and rapid, her vision narrowing.
She couldn’t lose him. Not him. Not after everyone else.
Noah pulled off into a small turnout. He angled toward her and reached for her with his hands gentle on her arms. “Meg, it’s okay. Deep breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. With me.”
She stared at him with wide eyes and tried…
He rested his forehead against hers—not romantic, but anchoring.
Her safe haven.
Then everything broke. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m just…”
The memories. The failures. The loss. The unfairness of it all crashed down like a wave, and a sob raked through her—harsh and ugly and raw.
Noah undid her seatbelt and pulled her onto his lap. “Overwhelmed.”
She nodded as another sob broke free, and he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head against his chest with one hand.
And he let her cry.
His heart beat steady beneath her ear—thump, thump, thump—a metronome keeping time while she fell apart.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she sat up and wiped her tears with the heels of her hands. She rubbed at the wet spot on his shirt. “Sorry.”
“I know things are hard and complicated for us right now. But I’m here for you, Meg. Always.” His voice was rough.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and climbed back to her seat before she did something foolish. Like stay in his arms all day. Like kiss him.
Like tell him she loved him.
He reached over with his hand cupping her face and brushed his thumb under her eye, catching a stray tear. “If it’s that important to you, I won’t go. I’ll run the ops from up here.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
It wasn’t fair to ask. But she couldn’t help it. Relationship or not, he’d worked his way into her heart.
And the truth pressed in, sharp and terrifying: She could survive almost anything—anything—except losing him.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped back into the clinic. When Sarah gave her a pointed look over her computer monitor, she held up her hand. “Just here to grab my bag from my office.”
Sarah’s whole demeanor relaxed at that. “I just put some mail in there for you as well.”
Meg stepped into her miniature office and lifted the small stack of envelopes from her desk. She flipped through them. Most were junk mail. But stuck in the pile was a note card with just her name written across the front.
No address. No stamp.
Hand delivered.
She tore open the envelope. The card was a watercolor design of the canyon—sold in their own gift shop. She flipped it open and stilled.
I WON’T FORGET.
The clean block letters in green ink.
Was it a threat? A promise?
She set it aside with unease prickling down her spine as another envelope caught her attention.
Schuster and Schuster?
That was the name of the research team she’d almost joined four years ago. She lifted it from the stack and tore it open, then scanned the letter.
…Program is funded…We want you to join the team…need an answer within the week…Hershey, Pennsylvania…Sincerely, Dr. Donavan Jacobs
She lowered the letter.
Could she really leave? Her agreement with the park service was up within the month. And if the park shut down, they wouldn’t need her anyway.
Leaving meant starting over. It meant leaving Noah and leaving the canyon that had begun to feel like home.
Then again, test tubes didn’t push you away. And they definitely didn’t die right in front of you.
Maybe Noah was right. She did need a new start.
Only, the start she needed wasn’t in the canyon.