Page 9

The question prodded at the lie I'd been maintaining. "I'm... flexible with my return date," I hedged.

Noah nodded, not pushing further, though I could practically see the gears turning behind those observant eyes.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the whisper of wind through the pines and the occasional birdcall. The peacefulness was something I rarely experienced in Chicago and I breathed deeply, sensing the new awareness of my inhales and exhales.

"My mom was a nurse’s aide by day and waited tables at night," I said, surprising myself with the disclosure. "My sister and I basically raised ourselves."

Noah turned toward me, giving me his full attention without interrupting.

"Emily—that's my sister—she took after Mom.

Practical, organized, always had a plan.

Got a scholarship to nursing school, married a doctor, now has two perfect little girls and a house in the suburbs.

" I tried to keep the hint of envy from my voice and failed.

"Meanwhile, I chased a communication degree and ended up with student loans and a broken engagement. "

"Your sister sounds like she found her path early," Noah said carefully. "Not everyone does. Doesn't make your journey less valid."

I plucked a wildflower growing near the log, twirling it between my fingers. "Try telling that to my mother. In her eyes, Emily did everything right, and I'm just... still figuring things out."

"At thirty-one?" Noah asked with a small smile.

"Ah, you were paying attention during the bonfire introductions," I noted, returning his smile. "Yes, at thirty-one. Pathetic, right?"

"Not at all," he said, his voice softening. "Some of us take detours before finding where we're meant to be."

Something in his tone made me look up, catching an expression of understanding that made me wonder about his own detours. Before I could ask, he stood, offering his hand again.

"Come on. Waterfall's just around the bend, and we've earned that picnic."

I took his hand, letting him pull me up, noticing how he didn't immediately let go as we began walking again. Our fingers remained loosely intertwined, a casual intimacy that felt simultaneously new and completely natural.

The sound reached us before the sight—a rhythmic rushing that grew louder with each step.

Then the trail curved, and the waterfall revealed itself in all its glory.

Water cascaded down a series of stone ledges, creating a multitiered fall that dropped at least fifty feet into a crystal-clear pool below.

Mist rose from the impact point, catching the sunlight and creating fleeting rainbows.

"Noah," I breathed, momentarily speechless. "This is incredible."

Pride flashed across his face. "Worth the hike?"

"Absolutely worth it," I confirmed, drinking in the scene. "How is there no one else here?"

"It's not on any tourist maps," he explained, leading me toward a flat rock outcropping near the pool. "Local secret. Most visitors stick to the designated park trails."

We settled on the sun-warmed rock as Noah unpacked our lunch—thick sandwiches from the resort deli, apples, and homemade cookies that Howard from the bonfire last night had contributed when he'd heard about our hike.

"So," I said, biting into my sandwich, "since I've shared my family dysfunction, it seems only fair you reciprocate. What made the son of Hope Peak become its protector?"

A shadow crossed Noah's face, but he didn't deflect. "My parents died in a car accident during my sophomore year at Montana State. Black ice, semi-truck couldn't stop in time. They were gone instantly."

"Noah, I'm so sorry," I said, immediately regretting my question.

He shook his head slightly. "It's okay. It was twelve years ago.

" He took a breath before continuing. "I was studying environmental sciences, thinking I might work for the Forest Service or National Parks.

But after they died, everything changed.

I came back to handle the funeral, never really left.

Dropped out and joined the local Police Academy instead.

Sheriff Callahan had known me since I was born—took me under his wing.

Said Hope Peak needed someone who cared about it. "

"And you do," I observed. "Care about it, I mean. It shows in everything you do."

He met my eyes. "This place, these people—they're all I have left. Worth protecting."

The intimacy of the moment wrapped around us, neither of us looking away. I understood suddenly why Noah had never left Hope Peak, why he threw himself into his work, why he maintained such careful distance from relationships. Loss had shaped him just as surely as my family dynamics had shaped me.

We were both interrupted by a distant rumble. Noah glanced up, frowning at the sky where dark clouds had begun gathering over the peaks behind us.

"That's not good," he muttered, quickly repacking our lunch. "Montana thunderstorms can move in fast, especially during heat waves like this. We should head back."

I followed his gaze to see that the previously pristine blue sky was rapidly disappearing behind ominous clouds. The temperature had dropped subtly, and the wind picked up, carrying the distinct smell of approaching rain.

"Is it dangerous?" I asked, helping him pack.

"Lightning in the mountains is nothing to mess with," he confirmed, shouldering his backpack. "But there's a gazebo about ten minutes down the trail—part of an old Forest Service outpost. If we hurry, we can wait it out there."

We set off at a much quicker pace than our leisurely ascent. The wind grew stronger, bending the tops of the pines and sending fallen leaves swirling around our feet. Another rumble of thunder, closer this time, urged us forward.

The first fat raindrops began falling just as a small wooden structure came into view—a hexagonal gazebo perched on a small clearing overlooking the valley. We made a final dash as the skies opened, reaching the shelter just as the rain turned from scattered drops to a proper downpour.

"Perfect timing," Noah said, dropping his backpack on the gazebo's wooden bench.

I caught my breath, looking out at the sudden transformation of our surroundings. The rain created a silver curtain around our shelter, the distant mountains now obscured by mist. Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that made me jump.

"That was close," I said, wrapping my arms around myself as the temperature continued to drop.

Noah stepped closer, his body radiating warmth. "Storm's right on top of us. Might be here a while."

The gazebo, charming in theory, offered minimal protection from the wind that now drove the rain sideways. I shivered, wishing I'd worn something warmer than my lightweight hiking clothes.

"Here," Noah said, noticing my discomfort. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a fleece jacket, draping it around my shoulders. "Better?"

The jacket carried his scent—pine, cedar, and something uniquely Noah. "Better," I confirmed, pulling it closer. "Thanks."

"Can't have you catching pneumonia on my watch. I'd never hear the end of it from the sheriff."

I laughed, grateful for the moment of levity. "Already imagining his lecture?"

"In vivid detail," he agreed with a wry smile.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the gazebo, followed by thunder so loud it seemed to vibrate through the wooden structure. I flinched, and Noah's hand found my shoulder, steadying me.

"It's okay," he said. "We're safe here."

The simple touch and reassurance broke something loose inside me. Maybe it was the intimate setting, the storm isolating us from the rest of the world, or just the accumulated tension of the past months seeking release—but suddenly I was talking.

"My fiancé cheated on me with his coworker," I blurted out. "I found them together in his office. She was under his desk, and he was... well, his pants weren't where they should have been."

Noah's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"Three years together, and that's how it ended. The worst part? I wasn't even that heartbroken." I gave a hollow laugh. "Hurt pride, sure. But mostly I just felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. All those late nights at the office suddenly made a lot more sense."

"He's the stupid one," Noah said, his voice quiet but intense. "Not you."

"Maybe," I sighed. "But it made me question my judgment. Like, how did I miss that? What else am I missing? And then the stalker situation started, and I just—" I stopped abruptly, realizing what I'd let slip.

Noah's expression sharpened instantly. "Stalker situation?"

My heart pounded. This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid—revealing too much, becoming vulnerable, being seen. "It's nothing," I said, attempting to backtrack. "Just an overly enthusiastic... client. From work."

His eyes held mine, seeing through the half-truth. "Didi," he said simply, my name somehow carrying a wealth of questions.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating his face—concerned, intent, and so very close to mine. The thunder that followed seemed to shake something loose between us, the charged air inside the gazebo matching the electric atmosphere outside.

"I can't," I whispered, not even sure what I was refusing—his questions, his concern, or the growing pull between us.

He stepped closer, one hand coming up to gently touch my cheek. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he said. "But I need you to know something."

I looked up, caught in the intensity of his blue gaze.

"Whatever you're running from, whatever brought you to Hope Peak—I won't let anything hurt you here." The simple promise carried the weight of absolute certainty.

The final barrier between us dissolved. I'm not sure who moved first—maybe we both did, drawn together like the inevitable collision of storm fronts. His lips found mine with surprising gentleness, a questioning touch that quickly blazed into certainty when I responded.