Carson
I didn’t even know why I said it.
“Sienna, we need to talk.”
It slipped out before I had a plan or a point or even the faintest idea of what I thought I was about to accomplish by opening that door between us. I wasn’t good at talking. Not the real kind, the kind that acknowledged things. The kind that led to admissions or feelings or truths I’d spent years learning how to hide.
I stepped inside her tent, and she looked over at me with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness, and suddenly the words hung in the cold air between our sleeping bags.
She pushed herself upright, zipped her coat higher, and waited.
She didn’t rush me. She just watched me.
I sat up as well, trying and failing to organize my thoughts into anything coherent.
“We should talk about today,” I said finally.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Which part? The bear? The wolves? You catching me every five minutes?” She paused. “Because I swear that’s not normal for me. I’m usually coordinated like a mountain gazelle. Very majestic.”
“You’ve mentioned that.” I laughed. “But you’re coordinated.”
She gave me a look. “Don’t lie to me after I tripped on air. It’s not a good look on you.”
“Air can be dangerous.”
“No. No, you do not get to make slipping on nothing sound noble.” She smiled. “But thanks.”
The corner of my mouth twitched despite my best efforts. I ran a hand over the back of my neck.
“But that’s part of it,” I said.
She frowned. “What is?”
“You keep acting like today was… embarrassing.” I searched for the right word. “It wasn’t.”
“Carson. I ran into you. Twice.”
“I noticed.”
“And I didn’t exactly take the sight of wolves with Olympic-level grace.”
“You handled it better than most guides I’ve worked with.”
She blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“Really.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, though she didn’t seem aware she’d done it.
“You were calm when you needed to be,” I said. “Focused. You stayed behind me even when it scared you.”
“It didn’t scare me.”
My eyebrow lifted.
She sighed. “Fine. It scared me. A little. Ugh. I hate that.”
