I shake my head, trying to push those thoughts away. But the truth is, she’s all I’ve been thinking about since she walked away. Since I let her walk away. I open my eyes, squinting against the sun’s glare, and force myself to look up instead of down. Focus on the climb, Holt. One hold at a time.
I reach for the next grip, my movements more certain now, each pull of muscle grounding me. The burn in my arms is sharp, my knee protesting with every push, but I welcome it. It’s a reminder that I’m still here, still fighting. And as the ledge gets smaller beneath me, I realize I’m not just climbing for myself anymore.
It’s her. Lila, with her stubborn pride and the way she made me feel like the man I used to be—hell, like a better version of him. I grit my teeth, swinging my body up over a particularly tricky overhang, and the thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Maybe I’m more afraid of losing her than I am of this damn mountain.
That thought fuels me, driving me up the last stretch of rock. I haul myself over the final edge, my chest heaving, muscles screaming, but for the first time in months, the pain feels... right. Like I’m finally earning something again. I stand at the top, looking out over the valley, the river a silver thread far below. My legs tremble, my knee a sharp reminder of everything I’ve fought through, but I feel lighter, like I’ve shed something I didn’t realize I was carrying.
The wind whips across the peak, chilling the sweat on my skin, but I barely feel it. I let out a breathless, bitter laugh,running a hand through my hair. Damn, it’s not just the climb. It’s everything.
I think of Lila, her words still ringing in my head, cutting through the bravado I’ve wrapped around myself for years. She’s right, of course. She sees through me in a way that no one else does, straight to the parts I’ve tried to bury. But as much as her honesty cuts, it’s the only thing that makes me want to be honest too.
I glance back down the way I came, the route that nearly broke me once, and a different kind of determination surges through me. The fear is still there—of falling, of failing, of wanting something I don’t know how to keep. But now, there’s something else too—a realization that maybe, for once, I don’t have to do this alone.
I lower myself to sit on the edge, my legs dangling over the drop, and for the first time, I let myself imagine what it might feel like to reach for more than just the next hold. To reach for something real. Something that doesn’t fit neatly into my world of risks and adrenaline.
“Dammit, Lila,” I murmur into the wind, my voice barely carrying over the rush of air. “You might be the one thing I can’t out-climb.”
I scrub a hand over my face, the rough stubble scratching against my palm. The realization feels like a weight lifting off my chest, even as it leaves me raw, exposed to the mountain air. I thought climbing this route again would be about conquering my own demons, about proving I’m still the same guy I was before the fall. But now, I know it’s about more than that. It’s about admitting that I don’t have to keep pretending I don’t need anyone.
I push to my feet, staring down at the valley below, the sun casting long shadows across the pines. My jaw clenches, but there’s a small, stubborn smile tugging at the corner of mymouth. Because this time, I’m not just climbing back to who I used to be—I’m climbing toward something better.
And if that means taking a risk on Lila, on letting her into a place I’ve kept locked up tight, then maybe—just maybe—I’m ready to do it.
Chapter Nine
Lila
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’slike 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 inmy 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!”
