“You must know every inch of this place.”
“Most of it,” I say. “It still surprises me sometimes. Nature doesn’t care about patterns. Or maybe it has patterns I’m still learning to read.”
She pulls her knees up, wraps her arms around them. The gesture makes her look younger. More vulnerable. “What made you want to do this?”
I consider the question. Most people don’t actually want the real answer. They want a feel-good story summed up in a single sentence. But the way she’s looking at me makes me think she’s asking for real.
“My dad was a ranger,” I say. “Spent more time in the woods than at home. I used to resent that when I was younger. Thought he was choosing the job over us. Over me and my mom.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand it. This place… it matters. Not just because it’s beautiful. Because peopleneedit. They need somewhere to go that isn’t cities and concrete and noise. They need to remember they’re part of something bigger. Connected to something that existed long before them and will exist long after.” I pause. “And they need people who know how to keep them safe while they figure that out.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “Your dad would be proud.”
My chest tightens. “He was. Before he passed. Died doing a prescribed burn five years ago. Heart attack. It was quick, fortunately.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He got to do what he loved until the end. Not many people can say that.”
The wind shifts, bringing the scent of pine and earth. She tilts her head back, eyes closed, breathing it in. The last rays of sunlight catch in her hair, turning the dark strands almost copper.
“I see why Nate loved it here,” she says.
“What about you?” I ask. “Do you love it?”
She opens her eyes, looks out over the valley. “I think I could. If I let myself.”
“What’s stopping you?”
She meets my gaze. “Fear, mostly. Of not being good at it. Of messing up. Of…” She trails off, then laughs softly. “Of needinghelp. I don’t like admitting I can’t do something on my own.”
“Everyone needs help sometimes,” I tell her. “That’s not weakness. That’s just being human.”
“I’m only human.” She smiles at that. “I need to remember that.”
The sun is lower now, casting everything in gold. Her skin glows in the light, and when she looks at me, there’s something in her expression that makes my pulse kick up.
Attraction. Interest. Maybe something more.
I feel it too. Have been feeling it since I first saw her standing on that unstable slope, trying so hard to be brave. Since she trusted me to talk her down. Since she asked me to stay while she said goodbye to her brother.
There’s something about her that pulls at me. Not just the physical attraction, though that’s certainly there. But something deeper. The way she’s trying. The way she’s honest about being afraid but does it anyway. The way she looks at the mountain like she wants to understand it, not conquer it.
“It’s getting late,” I say, though I don’t particularly want to move. “We should head down before we lose the light. This trail gets tricky after dark.”
She nods but doesn’t get up right away. “Duke?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not making me feel stupid. For staying. For showing me this place the way Nate would’ve seen it.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stands, shouldering her pack. This time, she moves with more confidence. Less hesitation. Like something has settled in her.
We start back down the trail together, and I can’t shake the feeling that something just shifted.
