“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “why stargazing? What made you fall in love with the stars?”
“Why not?” His tone is casual, but I catch the flicker of something deeper. “The stars don’t judge. They just... are. They’re constant, even when everything else isn’t.”
I glance back at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. “That’s... unexpectedly poetic.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, brushing past me to take the lead again.
We reach the clearing, and my breath catches. The sky stretches wide and endless above us, the constellations shimmering like a thousand diamonds scattered across velvet. It’s breathtaking.
Ridge sets his pack down and spreads out a blanket. “This is it,” he says, his voice softer now. “Best view on Devil’s Peak.”
I drop my bag and sit beside him, tilting my head back to take it all in. “You were right. It’s perfect.”
“Of course I was right,” he says, his gruffness back in full force. But when I glance at him, I see the faintest trace of a smile.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels rare and precious. Ridge points out constellations, his voice steady and low, and I soak in every word. I’ve read about the stars my whole life, studied their patterns and mapped their paths, but hearing him talk about them is different. He speaks with reverence, as if they’re old friends.
“You know,” I say, my gaze fixed on the heavens, “I didn’t come to the mountains just for my research.”
Ridge turns his head toward me, his expression unreadable. “No?”
I shake my head. “I came because I wanted more. I wanted to find someone who saw the world the way I do. Someone who doesn’t think I’m crazy for spending hours staring at the sky.”
His gaze lingers on me, heavy and searching. “And you thought a mail-order bride ad was the way to do that?”
I laugh softly, the sound almost lost in the night. “No. That was an accident. But staying here... that’s a choice.”
His eyes darken, the intensity in them making my breath hitch. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Good,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Because you’re not what I expected either.”
We’re just packing up our things to head back to the observatory an hour later when the rumble starts low, like distant thunder. I barely register it at first. But Ridge is already on alert, his posture tense. “Stay here,” he commands, his voice sharp.
“What is it?” I ask, anxiety ratcheting up to match his.
“Avalanche,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the edge of the clearing. “We need to move. Now.”
The ground shakes beneath us, and the air fills with the sound of cracking trees and shifting earth. Ridge grabs my hand, his grip firm and unyielding, and leads me down the trail at a breakneck pace. My heart pounds, adrenaline surging as rocks tumble and branches snap around us.
We don’t make it far before a massive tree crashes onto the path ahead, blocking our way. Ridge curses under his breath and scans the area, his eyes narrowing on a small cave nestled into the hillside.
“In there,” he says, tugging me toward it.
The cave is barely big enough for the two of us, the entrance low and narrow. Ridge ducks inside first, pulling me in after him just as another crash echoes outside. We huddle in the dark, the sound of the avalanche muffled but still terrifying.
My hands tremble, and Ridge’s arm wraps around me instinctively. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “We’re safe in here. Not the first avalanche I’ve tackled and it won’t be the last.”
I press closer to him, his warmth a stark contrast to the cool, damp air of the cave. “Do avalanches happen often up here?”
“Not usually,” he admits. “But the mountain’s unpredictable. You learn to adapt. Gotta take what it gives you, like everything in life.”
We sit in silence for a while, the tension between us crackling like static electricity. His arm stays around me, his body solid and reassuring, and I find myself relaxing despite the situation.
“You’re good at this,” I say softly. “The whole protective mountain man thing.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”
The silence stretches a while before I ask, “Why did you leave the military?”
