“There isn’t.”
He said it calmly, the same way he’d told me about the washed-out trail—like he’d already checked the footing.
“The rule is that employees can’t submit entries. It has nothing to do with who you hike with. I lead guided tours for the festival, Paisley. Bobbi designed the scavenger hunt knowing participants would learn trail conditions and species locations on those tours. Half the people on my hike were checking their lists while I pointed out wildflowers.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “You just stayed after class.”
“You’re sure? Because if she decides?—”
“I’ve worked with Bobbi for four seasons. She’s not policing who explores together. She’s making sure employees don’t enter and win their own prize money. You found those flowers. You photographed them. You documented the coordinates. That’s your work. Not mine.”
The knot in my chest loosened—not fully, but enough to breathe.
“Your mom’s going to be okay,” he said, quieter now. “And you’re allowed to want something for yourself in the middle of all of it.”
My eyes burned. I blinked hard and focused on his collarbone because looking at his face would undo me. “I’vebeen carrying this alone for two years. I don’t know how to let someone in.”
“You let me in yesterday. In the meadow. When you told me about your mom.” His voice softened. “That’s all it takes—just not putting the wall back up afterward.”
I let out a breath. His hands moved from my hips to my face, tilting it upward so I had to look at him. His eyes were the same ones that had locked on mine at the restaurant. The same ones that tracked me on the trail. The same ones that had looked down at me against that hemlock with an intensity I’d carry in my bones for the rest of my life.
“I’m not asking you to move here tomorrow,” he said. “I’m asking you to let this be real. Come back when you can. I’ll drive to you when I can. We figure it out as we go.” He paused. “I already cleared out a drawer.”
A sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob. “You cleared out a drawer.”
“Top one. I moved my stuff to the second.”
I pressed my forehead to his chest and breathed him in. He wrapped his arms around me, chin resting on the top of my head, and for the first time in two years, the weight I’d been carrying felt like it had somewhere to go.
“Okay,” I said into his skin.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll take your drawer. But I’m staying through the end of the festival first. I need to submit my entry. And I want to say goodbye properly. Lauralie’s been keeping my coffee full since I got to town. She deserves more than me disappearing.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll drive you to the inn. You can get your charger, organize your photos, submit your entry. Then I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Dinner where? This town has, like, four restaurants.”
“Five if you count the Pancake House. They make a mean stack of blueberry pancakes I’d argue counts as dinner.”
I leaned back and looked at him—this man who’d shown me his mountain. His meadow. His secret wildflowers. His home. Who’d taken the heaviest part of me and held it without flinching.
“Pancakes for dinner,” I said. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He grinned—not the almost-grin, not the restrained half-smile, but a full, open grin that transformed his entire face. I’d done that. Me, with my maps and my mission and my complicated life.
He grabbed his keys, I grabbed my pack, and we stepped out into the morning together. The mountains glowed gold and green. The air smelled like pine and something blooming. And somewhere inside my phone was a folder full of GPS-tagged wildflower photos worth fifty thousand dollars.
I was going to win that money. I was going to pay off my mom’s debt. And then I was going to come back to this mountain and this man and that top drawer—and find out what happened when I finally let myself have something good.
EPILOGUE
EVAN
“This pole goes through the blue loop, not the gray one.”
“I know which loop it goes through. I’ve set up this tent a hundred times.”
“And you get it wrong every time.”
