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“I think I can handle it,” she said.

“I know you can.”

He wondered if they were still talking about the trail. She was strong. Stronger maybe than she gave herself credit for. But she didn’t need to be strong for him. He couldn’t bear to put another woman through that. It wasn’t fair. It would be the same shit he’d already been through. He already knew all the places he fell short. All the places he didn’t come through when he needed to. He never wanted to do that to Rory. He’d been honest with Fia when he’d said that.

But he also didn’t want to let go of her hand. Right now, the trail was easy. Right now, they could hold on to each other. Right now, it was okay. And that was what he would hold on to. While he held on to her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THEYKEPTONgoing up the trail, and it narrowed. It got to the place where she had quit last time.

But he held her hand and pulled her up behind him.

“I’m scared,” she said, stopping and hugging the wall. She looked down below at the river, so far down, craggy rocks the only landing offered if a person was to slip and lose their footing. It wasn’t like it didn’t happen. People fell hiking all the time. Her fear wasn’t totally irrational, even if she did feel a bit like she needed to find some extra bravery, in the presence of a man like him.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

And those were the eyes of the soldier. Not just a soldier, but the man who had been in charge of a unit. The man who had promised not to leave people behind, but who had, because bombs went off and stray bullets hit people who didn’t deserve it.

Because that was the nature of things, even if it shouldn’t be.

He wouldn’t leave her behind. He wouldn’t let her fall.

She clung to him, as they navigated the narrower parts of the trail. Him in front, and her coming up behind as she braced herself on the wall, and then would reach for his hand when she got to a wider spot.

He was calm. Measured. He was exactly the kind of man you wanted leading in a moment like this.

Steady. Certain.

She saw the hero. The substance of the real hero. Not just the moments of glory.

This was the real thing she wanted. Not a parade. She wanted this thing he had. In spite of everything, he carried on. In spite of everything, he was like a compass. Pointing north. Leading.

And when they made it past the toughest part of the trail, she couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face just there, at the crook between his shoulder and jaw. She rubbed her face against his skin and smelled the sweat, a scent that was uniquely his.

Tears stung her eyes, and she knew she didn’t have a right to those tears. Or maybe she did. Because she had done something on her list. She had completed something she set out to do. She hadn’t quit.

She had finished.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She lifted her head and their eyes met. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair off her forehead, and she shivered. His hold was firm, hot. She wanted to stay pressed against him like this forever. This had nothing to do with the childhood crush.

This was about him. Right now. The man he really was.

In this moment, it was a feeling electrified by her own bravery.

What a wonderful thing.

Finally, he began to loosen the hold he had around her waist, and she stepped back from him.

“Thank you.”

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “You could do it all along. You didn’t need me.”

“That isn’t true. I think I would’ve quit without you. I would’ve been too afraid. But you’re the kind of person you look at, and you just think it has to be okay.”

“Camping spot’s just up ahead,” he said.

It took a while, but they reached their final destination for the day, without encountering any of the terrain that Rory was worried about. Listening to Gideon talk about his time in the desert, about the bomb, made her feel like her worries were so abstract and unrealistic in comparison.