His eyebrows rise.
“And?”
“And it was…” I hesitate. “Nice.”
The word feels insufficient.
“Well,” I correct, “more than nice.”
I swallow.
“And for once, I wasn’t nervous.”
That’s the part I still don’t fully understand. The ease of it. The quiet. The way my body stopped treating her like something dangerous.
“I held her hand.”
Even now, I can still feel it. The warmth of her fingers. The certainty of it.
Alex chuckles beside me.
“Jeez,” I mutter. “That makes me sound like a teenager who’s just been on his first date.”
“A little,” he agrees easily.
He glances at me. “But you’re falling for her.”
I don’t argue.
Because there’s nothing left to deny.
We reach the gear cache and collect the remaining equipment in comfortable silence. The mountain stretches around us, steady and familiar. Up here, everything makes sense. There’s no guessing. No second-guessing. Just the next step. The next hold.
Now I just need to work out what comes next with Christina.
When I get home, the cottage greets me with its usual stillness.
I kick off my boots in the utility room and strip off the damp layers, stuffing everything straight into the washing machine. The routine is automatic. Familiar. Grounding.
Upstairs, I shower, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders until the last of the mountain loosens its grip on my muscles.
By the time I pull on a clean shirt and shorts and head back downstairs, I feel human again.
I grab my phone from the kitchen counter.
There’s a missed message from Chris.
And several from Christina.
My chest tightens slightly as I open them.
Christina
Hey.
So, the Crazy Dogs want me to audition on Friday. Do you have time today or tomorrow to practice?
Just an hour or two. I only need to sing two songs for them, so I thought Living on a Prayer and Torn. What do you think?