Chapter 17 #2
Now she remembered his haunted eyes that first summer. The pale indent on his ring finger where gold had once circled. The way he’d flinched whenever couples walked past holding hands.
She’d assumed divorce. Messy breakup. The usual casualties of modern love.
But a widower?
Her heart cracked clean through.
She made her way to the lodge’s west patio, lured by the moonlight, the dark, expansive yawn of the canyon. She stood at the half wall overlooking the drop. The gibbous moon cast a silver glow over the layers of earth.
At least some things stayed constant when the world tilted sideways.
“This is one of my favorite places to think.”
Meg spun—too fast, too close to the edge—and strong hands captured her arm, yanked her back from the precipice.
“Don’t move like that near the drop.” Noah’s voice came out strangled, his grip almost painful against her elbow.
Heat shot up her arm where his fingers pressed into her skin. Her body had developed some kind of Noah radar—every nerve ending crackling to life whenever he came within ten feet. Ridiculous.
“I wouldn’t have moved so fast if you hadn’t snuck up on me.” She turned back toward the canyon, trying to ignore the way her pulse hammered against her throat.
“Sorry.” His hand dropped away, but he didn’t retreat. Didn’t sit back down wherever he’d been hiding in the shadows.
“It’s peaceful out here.” When she thought she was alone, anyway.
Noah’s hands found his pockets, weight shifting to one foot. “Something about the canyon at night—all shadows and silver instead of those blazing colors. Calms something inside me.” He pointed into the darkness. “Wait long enough and you’ll spot an owl hunting dinner.”
“An owl?” Meg squinted into the void, seeing nothing but rock and moonlight.
“Right there.” He pointed again, arm extending past her shoulder.
She shook her head, still blind to whatever he was tracking.
He stepped closer, chest almost touching her back as his arm stretched toward the distance. “See that outcropping? Just to the left—”
All rational thought evaporated. His warmth enveloped her, solid and real and intoxicating. The scent of pine soap and something distinctly Noah filled her lungs. Her brain short-circuited, replaying that kiss on endless loop—the desperate way he’d held her, as if she was his lifeline in a storm.
She turned her head slightly, found him watching her instead of the phantom owl. His gaze traced her features, lingered on her mouth. His breath whispered across her lips as he leaned closer, slow as honey.
Stupid. This was so stupid. He’d run last time—literally walked away without explanation. But he was here now, and heaven help her, she wanted Noah Wilde more than she’d ever wanted anything. Would love him the way no one had since—
Mary.
The name hung between them like a ghost.
He jerked back as if she’d slapped him, cool night air rushing in to fill the space where his warmth had been. Several feet of distance materialized between them.
“Noah?”
He acted as if he’d read her mind.
He shook his head, took another step backward. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
The words hit, hollowing her out. Bruising. I can’t kiss you. I can’t move on. I can’t love you.
He stood there for an eternity, wrestling with demons she couldn’t see. Then he sighed.
It sounded terribly like defeat.
“Early hike with Teague tomorrow. Need to…turn in early.” His voice trailed off as he headed for the side door.
Right. Whatever.
Meg stared at the empty space where he’d been, the canyon’s silence pressing against her eardrums. What was she supposed to do with that? Chase him down? Demand explanations? Force him to face whatever haunted him?
No. She turned back to the dark canyon, the moon’s glow, and finally saw the owl, alone and soaring in the night, searching.
She’d forgotten how beautiful color could be.
Nimue let the vibrant red pencil drift across white paper, tracing the canyon rim’s gentle curves in unhurried strokes. Sunlight warmed her shoulders through the thin cotton of her shirt, a whisper of breeze carrying the scent of pine and sage across the Grand Canyon Lodge’s back porch.
Her sketchbook rested against her knees, pages fluttering softly in the mountain air. A week since the hospital—ribs still tender, movements still careful—but the ache had settled into something manageable. Healing, like the slow blending of red into ocher and gold beneath her fingers.
Years of sketching in careful grays seemed like another lifetime. Another person. The woman who’d lived in shadows and encrypted files felt like someone who’d died.
And in her place, a rebirth of sorts. A new life.
And now, the canyon stretched endlessly before her in layers of ancient beauty.
She added a touch of amber to catch the sunlight on distant stone. The pencil moved without hesitation now, each stroke a small act of joy. No overthinking. No second-guessing. Just color blooming across the page like wildflowers after rain.
Tourist voices drifted from inside the lodge, punctuated by the soft clink of coffee cups and gentle laughter. Peace. When had she last experienced true peace?
A red-tailed hawk circled lazy spirals above the rim, riding thermals with effortless grace. Nimue paused to watch its flight, pencil suspended above the paper, a smile tugging at her lips.
Boot steps approached across weathered planks, familiar and unhurried.
“Caught you in the zone.”
Liam’s voice wrapped around her like warm honey.
Just his presence was sweet. She glanced up and her breath paused.
He stood silhouetted against the morning sky, ranger hat tilted at that perfect angle that cast shadows over his strong features.
Sunlight highlighted the stubble along his jaw and the windswept waves of his dark hair.
Trail dust coated his worn jacket, stretched taut across shoulders that had carried her to safety.
Everything about him radiated quiet strength, the kind of man who walked into danger without hesitation, who made promises and kept them.
He looked over her shoulder.
“It’s good, Nimue. Really good.”
Heat climbed her neck as she held up the sketch. The canyon blazed across the page—alive, vivid. Nothing like her old tentative drawings.
“Feels right.” The words came out softer than intended.
Liam picked up one of the broken blue pencils from the battered tin. “Still wish you’d let me replace these.”
“Never.” Her hand covered his, stopping the motion. “Ex-Navy SEALs thought they were weapons, remember? And you paid the price.”
His laugh rumbled deep in his chest, the sound that had become her favorite melody. “And I’d do it all again for you.” His gaze drifted across the canyon’s expanse. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I have been running from adventure to adventure for a long time.”
His eyes found hers again, serious now, intense in that way that made her pulse skip. “I’m ready to stop running. Settle down, buy a house…start a family.”
Her breath caught. But she smiled. “Seems like you’d need a wife to start that family.”
He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, it does. That’s the most important part.” He sat down next to her on the bench. He wasn’t proposing—not yet—but the promise hung between them.
Future. Together. The words she’d never dared hope for.
“I like that idea.” The admission scraped past the tightness in her chest.
His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned close, and she breathed in that scent that was purely him—pine soap, mountain air, and something indefinably masculine that made her want to burrow closer.
His eyes met hers a second before his lips found hers.
The kiss soft and warm, a promise deepened by the week’s quiet moments—shared meals, late talks, his steady presence as she recovered.
His palm cupped her cheek, thumb tracing gentle circles, and she felt safe, whole, in a way she’d never known before Liam.
“Ahem.”
They broke apart, Nimue’s cheeks flaming. Noah stood on the porch steps. Crisp uniform, clipboard in hand, grin splitting his whiskered face. Apparently someone was having regrets about the clean shave.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt the moment.” He raised an eyebrow. “But paperwork doesn’t wait for romance. Trail report’s overdue.”
Liam groaned, squeezed her hand once more before standing. “Duty calls. Back in five.”
He followed Noah inside. Nimue touched her lips, still tingling from his kiss.
Settle down. House. Family.
The words circled through her thoughts. Years of running, hiding behind screen names and encrypted files. But here? With him? She could shed the hacker’s mask, be simply Nimue.
Her hand found the blue pencil, added a bold streak across the sky. No hesitation. No careful shading. Just color, bright and fearless.
The art of hope.
Liam’s laughter carried from inside the lodge. She glanced up, eyeing his profile through the window as he gestured at Noah’s clipboard. He must have sensed her watching because his head turned, smile deepening when their eyes met.
Her heart did that fluttery thing it had started doing whenever he looked at her like that.
She smiled back, blended blue into purple, watched the sky deepen across her page.
The lodge, the canyon, Liam—pieces of a life she’d never imagined possible.
Home. Or the beginning of one.
She’d stay. Draw. Love. Let the rest unfold one color at a time.