A moment passed.
She nudged my arm lightly.
“Hey, stoic Kookaburra.”
“Yes, sparrow?”
Her cheeks flushed at the nickname, but she recovered fast. “We… make a good team.”
I looked at her. At the sunlight on her face, the brightness in her eyes, the way she tried so hard not to feel and failed spectacularly at it.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “We do.”
And she smiled, and I knew I was in deeper than I realized.
For the first time in years, I didn’t mind sinking.
We continued climbing, the trail narrowing as switchbacks curved us higher through the pines. The lake below glinted silver-blue in the sun, the breeze carrying the scent of thawingneedles and damp earth. The group followed behind us, chatting happily, their cheerful energy drifting like background music.
But all my attention stayed on the woman beside me.
Sienna walked with her usual light, restless stride, but every so often her arm brushed mine, subtle as a whisper, and each time it sent a pulse through me, sharp and quick. She wasn’t doing it on purpose. At least, I didn’t think she was. But the awareness sparked anyway, impossible to ignore.
When the path widened again, she slowed just a fraction, not enough for the group to notice, but enough that her shoulder aligned with mine once more.
“Just so we’re clear,” she murmured, eyes forward, “if that woman tries flirting with you again, I’m stepping in.”
I blinked. “You are?”
She shrugged. “I mean, only to help you avoid any more squirrel-level panic.”
“That’s not why.”
“It is exactly why.”
“No,” I said quietly, “it’s not.”
And maybe it was the sunlight. Or maybe it was the birds chirping. Or maybe it was the way the breeze caught in her hair and the edges of her scarf fluttered like warm-colored feathers. But she looked up at me then with eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the climb, and suddenly the space between us felt charged again, electric in that slow, careful way that made the moment stretch.
She swallowed. “Okay. Maybe not entirely why.”
I stopped walking before I even realized I had. The group kept moving ahead, oblivious. Sienna turned, surprised.
“Carson?”
I stepped closer and smiled.
“You don’t have to be jealous,” I said softly.
Her cheeks turned pink. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I—” Her voice wavered. “Okay, maybe a little. But only because she was very… forward. And professional me didn’t like it.”
“Professional you,” I said, “or the other you?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, then gave a helpless little laugh. “You make everything complicated.”
