Page 53 of Tormented Hearts

“I can’t make excuses for the man.” He pitched his voice low. “I didn’t know him or what was going on in his head. I can’t force him to make an apology, even though you deserve it.”

Her heart swelled, and salt waited on the back of her tongue.

“But I can tell you what I see. I am in awe of you, Sinead. Every single day out here, watching you keep pushing when most people would have quit two hours in—you’re amazing. This whole thing, this adventure, this mystery we’re chasing—I’m so damn glad I get to do it with you. Whatever is up around that bend.” He looked at the shadowed trail. “Wherever we end up next.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m a better man for doing this with you.”

A noise escaped her, low and pained.

Hawk searched her eyes. “Maybe the man I was before would quit after we find what lays at the end of this trail. But I won’t quit. I’m staying. With the team. With you.”

She stared up at him, blood pounding in her ears.

Who knew. She’d traveled the world chasing an elusive peace. Nepal, safaris, cities on four continents, therapists in three time zones—and it turned out all she’d ever needed was standing in front of her in the Wyoming wilderness, dirt on his boots and salve still on his fingertips, telling her she was amazing and sounding like he meant it.

“Nobody’s ever said that to me,” she choked. “Not without wanting something after.”

“I don’t want anything after.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her bug-bitten ear. “Just this. Just you, walking next to me when we find whatever’s out there.”

She leaned into his touch. Leaned into the moment and the sound of his voice.

Maybe her father really had known something she didn’t when he sent her out here. Maybe he’d known, in the calculating way he knew things, that this wilderness held more than coordinates and old legends.

And maybe it didn’t matter anymore why she’d started this journey, only that she got to keep walking it with Hawk beside her.

She turned her lips into his palm and kissed it, dirt and calluses and all. It felt more intimate than any of the kisses she’d ever given any man before him.

His expression softened, and his smile was tender as they both absorbed the moment.

They fell back into step. The trail narrowed ahead of them, evening light slanting through the pines. For the first time since she had to call for help because men were following her through the woods, she let herself believe that maybe the danger really was behind them.

That maybe, from here on, all that was left to chase was the mystery itself.

Chapter Twelve

Hawk and Sinead crested the last rise just as the sun cleared the ridgeline. He turned his head to the east and stopped without meaning to, his boots planted and his breath caught in his chest.

Below them, the valley opened up, wide and glowing. Mist still clung low over the stand of pines, and the whole world lit up like the heavens dipped too low to earth that morning.

Suddenly, the three days they spent on the trail—the switchbacks and deadly scree—seemed worth it for this view.

Sinead stepped up beside him, and a low breath rasped from her. “Wow.” She swallowed audibly, like her throat was tight.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t tear his gaze away. He’d seen a lot of views in his life, but this…

“It’s almost soul-altering.” Sinead’s voice came out as a whisper, hushed as if speaking louder would break whatever magic was spread out before them.

He gave a jerky nod. Hearing her say it out loud put words to the sensation in his own chest and tightened his throat.

The world he’d seen before now, much of it overseas, was beautiful in a hard way—mountains that didn’t care if he lived or died on them. And deserts swallowed men whole and forgot they’d ever existed.

This was different. This felt like the world saw them too.

He tore his stare away from the land and found Sinead was already looking at him. Neither of them said anything, but he reached over. When he touched her hand, she curled her fingers into his, as if they’d stood on this ridge and drank in this view a million times instead of once.

They stood there for long minutes, hands clasped. Every shade of green and gold melted into the soft brushstrokes.