She fanned her baby-Yoda scrubs with the fabric sticking to her skin.
Not the look she wanted for Noah.But if anyone had seen her at her worst, it was him.
Her hands trembled in her lap.Lydia’s ashen face flashed through her mind—blue lips, still chest, vacant eyes.Her failure burned like acid in her throat.
She’d taken this job expecting dehydration and sprained ankles, maybe the occasional broken bone.Not collapsed lungs and internal bleeding.That was for the SAR team.
If Noah hadn’t been there…
She glanced at him.His gaze was fixed on the road, with one hand loose on the wheel and his jaw tight.
He’d seen her hesitate in the cave and seen her weakness—again.
Last month it had been Nimue with internal bleeding.
At least Nimue had survived.
He navigated deeper into the woods with the Jeep bouncing over ruts.Finally the landscape opened up and revealed a wide view of the canyon against a cloudless sky.A jackrabbit darted across the road ahead, then vanished into a thicket of prickly pear.
Noah pulled off at an overlook.The canyon sprawled below, vast and ancient, and was peaceful from this distance—no hint of the dangers lurking in its depths.
He put the Jeep in park and reached for a bag from the back seat.He pointed to a cup nestled in the center console.“One cream, two sugars, and a bear claw.Your usual.”He held out the pastry wrapped in white paper and didn’t let go until she met his gaze.His dark brown eyes were soft and searching.“We did all we could yesterday, Meg.You have to know that.”He released the treat and pulled out a blueberry scone for himself—his usual.
What was it about this man that made her feel seen?Like she could be herself, even if that self was messy and broken?
Meg’s fingers shook as she lifted the coffee.
He’d seen her falter.Why did he still trust her?
They climbed out and settled on the hood, the metal warm beneath them.She broke off a piece of bear claw and popped it into her mouth.
The silence between them turned heavy.
He could try to make her feel better, but she had failed Lydia.There was no other way to say it.
“I know you’re replaying every second.I am too.”Noah sipped his coffee.“We did everything right in there.”
Meg’s spine stiffened.Her eyes fixed on the canyon.“I’m fine.”She took another bite of the pastry.
“You’re not fine.”Noah’s jaw tightened.“We stabilized Lydia and gave her a chance.Her choices put her in that cave.Her choices gave her wounds we couldn’t fix.”
“But if I had?—”
“No.You did everything you could.”His voice was steady.His fingers grazed hers.
Meg’s hand trembled under his touch.“I keep thinking Jeremy’s right.I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Jeremy’s twenty.He may think he’s an adult, but he’s just a kid.”Noah’s hand closed over hers.“Lydia’s death isn’t on you.”
Her throat closed, tight and burning, but his touch anchored her.
The sense of it rushed at her again—she was falling for him, had already fallen.But he didn’t want her, not enough.She’d learned that after he kissed her—then almost kissed her again—last month…and then walked away and acted as if it had never happened.
Or worse, regretted it.
But he’d still been her friend.And that’s all he wanted, clearly.
She pulled her hand away and cast him a side glance.His brow pinched as he stared at the canyon.She hated hurting him.But she couldn’t keep doing this dance of affection and regret.
