Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

L ila

I can't stop thinking about him.

He's driving me crazy, his words playing on repeat in my mind. I can't shake this man, and maybe that's because I'm not supposed to. He's proven that he has the ability to move something inside of me, and even if I can't explain why that is, maybe I still need to listen to my intuition. An afternoon hike with my camera felt like the best way to shake this feeling that's been with me since I left him this morning.

The mountain air feels different—thinner, sharper, like each breath is tinged with the edge of the mountain's heartbeat. The sun hangs low, bathing the cliff in a golden glow that spills across the rocks and turns the shadows long and deep. I squint against the light, trying to ignore the way my pulse races as I scan the rock face above me. I snap a few photos of a peregrine falcon perched on a nest when I zoom in, and something out of place catches my eye.

Holt is halfway up, his body a dark silhouette against the fading sky, moving with a kind of raw, relentless purpose. There's a desperation in the way he climbs, every muscle in his back straining, each reach more determined than the last. It's like he's chasing something—something I don't understand but can feel in the air between us. My throat tightens, the knot of fear and frustration coiling tighter with each step he takes upward.

"Damn it, Holt," I mutter under my breath, but my words get swallowed up by the mountain wind. He's too high up, and every instinct in me screams to call him down, to make him see reason. But part of me knows he won't listen. Not now, not when he's like this.

The sharp edge of my voice cuts through the air, bouncing off the rock. "Holt! What the hell are you doing?"

His head snaps down, his jaw tight and hard, his eyes locking with mine from across the distance. For a moment, I think I see something flicker there—something raw and unguarded—but then his expression shutters, and he keeps moving, his body flowing over the rock with a stubborn grace. He doesn't even pause. "What does it look like I'm doing, Lila?" His voice is rough, the wind carrying it to me in ragged snatches. He glances up toward the peak, determination blazing in his eyes. "I've got to finish this."

A knot forms in my chest, hard and unyielding. My hands clench at my sides, my breath coming faster as I take a step closer to the base of the cliff. "You're going to get yourself killed! Just come down—please!"

He just shakes his head, and the wind catches the edges of his voice, carrying a note of something I can't quite place. "I can't, Lila. Not this time. I need to do this—alone."

There's a hardness in his tone, but beneath it, I hear something else—something raw and unsteady. It hits me like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I want to scream at him, to drag him back down to solid ground where I can make him understand. But I can't take this from him. This is his fight, just like facing my own fears is mine. So I swallow the ache in my throat and force myself to stand still, watching as he pushes upward, his muscles flexing with each deliberate movement.

Minutes stretch into an eternity, every breath tight and shaky in my chest. My eyes track his progress, my heart leaping with every precarious shift of his weight, every slip of his boot against the rock. And then, finally, he reaches the summit. A triumphant shout rips from his throat, echoing across the cliffs, and my breath catches, a wild mix of relief and something hotter, fiercer.

He stands at the top, arms spread wide like he's embracing the sky, the sun painting him in shades of gold and crimson. For a heartbeat, he looks untouchable—like the daredevil I met that first day, the man who seemed so far out of reach. But then he starts his descent, each movement careful and measured, and I know I can't wait for him to come to me. Not this time.

Before I can second-guess myself, I grab the rope he left behind, my hands trembling as I wrap my fingers around the rough, braided surface. The fear that's always clawed at my chest when I'm near the edge fades into something else—something urgent and uncontainable. I start climbing, the adrenaline thrumming through my veins, pushing me upward with every pull of my arms.

My breath comes in short, hard bursts, my legs shaking with the effort, but I don't stop. I can't stop, not until I reach him, not until he hears what I have to say. The wind cuts against my cheeks, the cool air stinging my lungs, but all I can think about is the way his eyes looked when he told me he needed to do this alone—like he was terrified of needing anything else.

"Lila, what the hell are you doing?" His voice slices through the air as he spots me, surprise flashing across his features, followed quickly by irritation. He pauses on the ledge a few feet above, his arms braced against the rock, his chest rising and falling with the exertion.

I grit my teeth and glare up at him, my cheeks flushed with effort, my breath coming fast. "You don't get to have all the damn epiphanies, Holt!" I shout back, my voice cracking with the emotions I've been bottling up for too long. "I've got things to say too!"

Holt's lips twitch, like he's fighting back a smile, but there's a wariness in his eyes, like he's bracing for whatever I'm about to throw at him. He waits until I reach the ledge beside him, our faces inches apart, our breaths mingling in the cool mountain air. My hands grip the rock edge behind me, my knuckles white, but I refuse to look away.

I take a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage I have left. "I've been running," I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper, but the weight of the words presses between us, heavy and unyielding. "Not just from you, but from everything. From feeling like I'm never good enough, like I'm always chasing some impossible version of who I'm supposed to be. And being here, with you... it scares the hell out of me because it's real. You're real."

His expression softens, the tension in his jaw easing, but there's still that shadow in his eyes. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a rough murmur that sends a shiver racing down my spine. "And what if I told you that I'm scared too? Scared of needing someone again, scared that maybe... you're the one thing I can't walk away from."

The words slam into me, raw and unfiltered, and my breath catches, my hands trembling against the rock. I reach up, cupping his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble beneath my palm, grounding myself in the solidity of him. "Then we're both idiots, because I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the moment we met."

Holt's laugh is rough, strained, but it's real, and it warms something deep in my chest. He covers my hand with his, pressing it tighter against his skin, and the look he gives me is like a promise—dangerous, unsteady, but full of a hope that neither of us knows how to hold yet. "Guess that makes two of us, city girl."

Before I can second-guess myself, before the fear can take over again, I surge forward, capturing his mouth with mine. It's a kiss that tastes like everything we've been too afraid to say, a clash of lips and teeth and breath, rough and unrestrained. Holt groans against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against him like he's afraid I might disappear again.

The mountain wind whips around us, and the world tilts beneath my feet, but I don't care. All I know is the feel of his hands on my back, the heat of his body pressing against mine, and the way he kisses me like I'm the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth. For a moment, there's no distance between us, no walls, no fears—just the wild, electric thrill of being seen, being held, being wanted.

When we finally break apart, gasping for air, I rest my forehead against his, my hands fisted in his shirt. "I don't know how to do this, Holt. I don't know how to be this brave."

Holt's thumb brushes over my cheek, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver racing down my spine. "You already are, Lila. And I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to."

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears that burn at the corners of my eyes, and shake my head. "No. I don't want you to go." My voice cracks, but the words are as steady as I can make them. "I want to stay at Devil's Peak. I want to try. With you."

Holt's grip tightens on my waist, his mouth finding mine again in a kiss that's softer this time, but no less consuming. And as the sun sets behind us, turning the sky into a blaze of gold and crimson, I realize that maybe, for the first time in my life, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.