Page 22 of One-Track Pride

"No sympathy from me either." I lean across the salvaged table and kiss him, brief and certain. When I pull back, I mean every word of what comes next. "Whoever planned this made one serious mistake, Evander. They put me and you on the same mountain. And now I'm going to take it apart."

16

EVANDER

In the evening, we've moved the evidence into the shelter a hundred yards from the wreck, a concrete box the track crews built for nights exactly like this one. Somebody stocked it decades ago and forgot it existed: a woodstove furred with rust, two folding cots, a shelf of canned soup gone soft with age. I get a fire going while Camille clears the workbench and lays out everything she carried off the mountain. Photographs, maintenance logs, and a map worn soft at the folds.

"Okay," she says, tapping a cluster of red marks. "Warren signed off on every one of these components inside a six-week window. Then he backdated the inspections so nothing lines up. He wanted regulators to see a railway falling apart on its own schedule."

"He's not smart enough to design this."

"No. He's the hands. Northstar's the head." She straightens, pressing her knuckles into the small of her back. "Whoever built this understood exactly how an investigation like mine reads a failure. They fed me a story and expected me to sign it."

"And instead they got you."

A tired grin tugs at her mouth. "Bad luck for them."

We've been working through the evidence for about two hours, darkness is settling in fully outside and the stove turns the shelter almost comfortable.

I watch her circle the bench, chasing threads that most people wouldn't see, and I finally admit what I’ve pretended I don't feel. I want her here, not just tonight, not just until the storm clears.

"Can I ask you something that isn't about the railway?"

She glances up. "That depends on how personal it's getting."

"Fairly."

"Then yes." She sets the pen down. "Go."

"I've kept people at arm's length, outsiders especially." The fire crackles. "Everyone who gets close becomes somebody I'm responsible for keeping alive. It's easier to stay alone, fewer names on the list."

"So you decided I was a liability the second I arrived."

"I decided you were a problem," I admit. "Then you turned into a different problem entirely."

Her smile fades into something more careful. "There's a difference between protecting a partner and managing one. You keep doing the second thing and calling it the first."

"I know."

"Do you?" She crosses to me. "Because every time I climb into a dangerous spot, you act like I've personally insulted you."

"That's fear, not doubt."

"I believe that." She stops close that I feel the heat coming off her skin. "But fear that decides for me isn't love, it's a leash."

My lion shoves at the inside of my chest, wanting to argue, wanting to gather her up and put a wall around her. I hold still instead.

"You're right," I say. "Now tell me your version. You run before anyone can ask you to stay."

"That obvious?"

"You've said it in different ways since we met without ever actually saying it."

She exhales slowly. "I leave first. If I'm already gone, nobody gets to decide they're done with me." Her voice drops. "It's a coward's system, but it works."

"So what happens," I ask, "if neither runs from this one?"

She doesn't answer with words, she reaches up, curls her hand behind my neck, and pulls me down to her.