Chapter 4

Chapter Four

H olt

I cling to the rock, feeling the strain in my shoulders and the steady throb in my knee, a reminder of how much I've lost—and how much I'm still fighting to hold onto. The sun dips lower, painting the granite cliffs with streaks of gold, shadows creeping up the side of Devil's Peak. But it's not the view that has my focus—it's Lila, a few feet above me, navigating the rock face with a determination that borders on stubbornness.

She's different today—our second lesson on the mountain and she's more surefooted, more willing to push herself. She's still clumsy as hell, but she's got this fire in her, something fierce that matches the wildness of the mountain. And damn if it doesn't draw me in, making it impossible to look away.

Her foot slips on a small ledge, sending her body jerking against the rock. I swear under my breath, my instincts kicking in before my mind catches up. My hand shoots out, gripping her ankle. Her skin is warm, soft, even through the chill of the mountain air, and I feel the shiver that races up her leg at my touch.

"Careful, city girl," I growl, trying to keep my voice rough, dismissive, like I'm just doing her a favor. But even I hear the edge of concern slipping through. Lila glances back at me, her eyes wide and dark, her lips parted as she catches her breath. This girl is fucking gorgeous, I can't deny it. She's been on my mind since the first moment she came into my world and it's unnerving to say the least.

"This is tricky, okay?" she snaps, frustration lacing every word. "I'm not like you, Holt. This doesn't come naturally to me. You're practically a mountain goat up here."

There's a rawness in her voice that cuts through the banter, hitting deeper than I expect. I bite back a retort, something about her being out of her depth, but it sticks in my throat. Instead, I pull myself up to her level, settling on the ledge beside her, our shoulders brushing as we catch our breath. The mountain wind tugs at the loose strands of her hair, and without thinking, I reach out, tucking a wayward lock behind her ear.

Her eyes widen at the touch, but she doesn't pull away. My thumb brushes her cheek, the softness of her skin under my calloused fingers, and I'm caught in that damn pull again—the one that makes me want to dig deeper, to see what's hiding behind that mask she wears so well.

I clear my throat, dropping my hand and turning to stare out at the horizon, where the sun is melting into the jagged peaks. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Lila. You're already doing more than I expected." The words come out rough, not at all how I planned, but there's a truth in them I can't deny. "Hell, you're braver than I am. At least you know what you're scared of."

She frowns, turning to face me fully, curiosity cutting through her frustration. "What do you mean?" Her voice is softer now, like she's caught off guard by the shift in my tone. There's a pause, a beat where the mountain seems to hold its breath, and before I know it, I'm talking—really talking.

I run a hand through my hair, the movement exposing the weariness that clings to me like a second skin. "I wasn't always this guy, you know. The one who thinks he's invincible." A humorless laugh slips out, more bitter than I intended. "The accident changed things. Put me in my place. Now every time I look at these cliffs, all I can think about is how easy it is to lose everything."

Lila's expression softens, her frown smoothing out into something almost...gentle. It's a look I haven't seen on her before, and it tugs at something inside me, something I thought I buried with my old life. She reaches out, her hand brushing my forearm, her touch hesitant but warm, like she's testing the boundaries between us.

"I get that," she says quietly, and there's no judgment in her voice, no pity—just understanding. "I'm sorry–about your accident, I mean."

Her words hit harder than they should, striking a chord I haven't felt in years. Her empathy warms something inside of me that's been frozen for a long time. I shift closer, letting my leg brush against hers, the heat of her body seeping into mine despite the cool air. "Thanks," I murmur, my voice dropping low, like I'm afraid of shattering this fragile moment between us. "You're brave–being scared up here but pushing through anyway."

She swallows hard, her throat working, and I watch the vulnerability flicker across her face, catching me off guard. "I'm just good at pretending," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I have to be. My followers, my whole Holtd—they expect me to have it all together, to be perfect. But sometimes... sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a role I don't even want to play anymore."

Her confession slices through the air between us, cutting through the bravado she wears like armor. It makes me want to pull her closer, to shield her from whatever ghosts she's battling. Instead, I reach out, tilting her chin up so that her eyes meet mine, our faces inches apart.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Lila," I say, the words slipping out before I can think better of them. They come out rough, like gravel, but I don't try to take them back. "I don't give a damn about your followers or your perfect image. I just want to know the real you."

Her breath hitches, and for a heartbeat, I think she's going to pull back, to hide behind those walls she's so good at building. But then she leans in, just a fraction, her lips parting as she looks up at me, something wild and desperate in her eyes.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she whispers, her voice trembling with something I recognize all too well—fear, but also a fierce kind of hope, the kind that leaves you raw and aching.

I brush my thumb over the curve of her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, and my voice comes out low, almost a growl. "I think I do." My gaze drops to her mouth, and for a moment, everything else fades—the mountain, the past, the future. All I see is her, all I feel is this need that's been building between us since the day we met.

Before I can second-guess myself, I close the distance, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that's rough and hungry, like I'm trying to chase away every doubt in my head. She responds with a soft gasp, her hands fisting in the front of my shirt, and I deepen the kiss, pouring weeks of frustration and unspoken desire into the way my mouth moves against hers.

Lila kisses me back like she's fighting for something, her lips parting under mine, and I groan into her mouth, pressing her back against the rough stone of the ledge. Her body arches into mine, all soft curves and heat, and my mind goes blank, every thought swept away by the need to feel more of her.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together as we struggle to catch our breath. Lila's eyes are wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, and I have to fight the urge to dive back in, to take her right there against the rock. Instead, I cup her face in my hands, my thumb brushing over the curve of her cheek, and force myself to speak.

"This isn't just a distraction for me, Lila–I'm not that kind of guy." I admit, my voice rough with the weight of the confession. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I don't want to stop."

She studies me, her gaze searching, and for a second, I'm afraid she's going to tell me I've made a mistake, that this can't go any further. But then she gives me a small, tentative smile, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.

"Maybe I don't want to stop either," she murmurs, her voice barely more than a breath against my lips.

A rush of something I haven't felt in years floods through me—hope, need, the terrifying possibility of something real. I press my lips to her forehead, letting the moment settle between us, knowing that whatever comes next, we've both crossed a line we can't uncross.

"Then let's see where this goes, city girl," I say, my voice rough with promise. "But don't think I'm going to go easy on you."

Her smile widens, a new spark in her eyes, and she tilts her chin up, meeting my challenge head-on. "I wouldn't expect anything less, mountain man."

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I've found something worth holding onto, even if it scares the hell out of me.