“I’ve climbed a lot, but Veil…there’s something about it. When you get up there, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. No one’s looking at you, expecting anything. It’s you and the mountain range. No one and nothing else matters. There’s not a lot of oxygen at that elevation, but when I’m up there, I can finally breathe. I can be who I really am. I’m not…”

“Trapped.”

Their eyes met, and River couldn’t help the shiver that rolled through her. Her horse shifted beneath her in response to the tightening of her limbs.

“Are we doing this?” Easton asked quietly.

Four words that shouldn’t have felt so loaded lay between them. Then she reached out her hand, trusting without even looking that he’d take it in his own. Lifting her eyes to Mount Veil, River squeezed Easton’s fingers. If there was freedom at the peak, there was no stopping her. She’d been trapped her whole life too.

“When do we leave?”

• • •

Easton was a man of routine. And when it came to saying goodbye to his friends and family before an expedition, he always did so the same way: a game of pool at Rick’s place with Graham after the Tourist Trap closed. Dropping by the house afterward to see Ash.

That was it. Anything else would be making too big of a deal about it all.

These days, where Graham went, Zoey was dragged along. So Easton appreciated it when Graham came alone, the time-honored tradition of a beer and a game standing strong. And if Graham gave him a hug and an admonishment to be careful before hustling out the door to be with Zoey, that was fine too.

When he left Rick’s and drove to his family’s home, Easton made sure to take his time, to appreciate this town he loved so much. Roads he knew by memory because they were the same roads he’d traveled every day of his life. The same gravel lane leading to the same house.

The same people who’d been there from day one.

Ash was an exercise junkie, focused on putting only the best things inside her body. So it always struck him as wrong when he found her out on the front porch with a cigarette in her mouth. His twin only smoked when she was worried or when she was sad. Lately, she’d been trying to hide it from him, but she was his twin. He always knew.

Easton didn’t say anything as he sat next to her. They’d sat on this same porch for a long time now, and he never needed to say anything. Eventually, Ash leaned her shoulder into his.

“I hate this part,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“You can’t work taking people on nature walks up at the big house?” Ash glanced up at him. “Hold their hands as they frolic through the flowers?”

Teasing her for her worry would have been easy. Theirs was a relationship built on mutual good-natured mockery to hide affection far deeper than most would ever know. But some things he would never tease her for, and admitting she was scared was one of those things.

“I could, but I’d hate it.”

Having a twin wasn’t as easy as an adult as it was when they were younger. Being tied so tightly together was harder when real life got in the way. On some level, they both knew they were drifting apart compared to when they were kids, and neither wanted that. But he knew what she needed from him to be happy: to give up the way of life that made him happy. And as much as he loved her, Easton wasn’t willing to change who he was for someone else.

Not even Ash.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “I know you don’t believe me, but it will.”

“Maybe.” Taking a long drag on the cigarette in her mouth, she shook her head. “Probably. But one day, it won’t. Are you ready for that? Because I’m sure not.”

There was nothing he could say to that. Nothing to make her feel better anyway, so Easton simply sat with her. And when she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, he knew she’d given up the fight.

The next trip, it would start all over again, because Ash didn’t know how to stop caring so deeply.

“These things will kill you.” He flicked the end of her cigarette. “And they smell awful.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re out of here. Go whine to someone else.”

Smiling a little, he added, “Dad will be ticked if he catches you smoking.”

She flashed him a quick smirk. “Then I’d better smoke another so he doesn’t miss it.”

Falling silent, she finished her cigarette, then pinched the end out with her bare fingertips.

“You need anything before I leave?” he asked her.

“Nah, I’m good.” Ash stood, then nudged his leg with her foot. “Hey, East? Be careful up there.”

Mountaineering was dangerous, and they both knew it. So Easton rose to his feet and wrapped her up in the kind of hug he knew his twin needed. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, he whispered the same promise he’d made every time he left.

“I always am.”

Chapter 8

   The man was hot, but damn, Easton was boring.

River was trying, she really was. The beard and the bun made trying less difficult than it otherwise would have been, but the reality was they could only be lectured about caching equipment, acclimatization strategies, and avalanche safety for so long before they wanted to flop on the floor and cry mercy.

Easton had gathered everyone at the tiny airstrip on the outskirts of town, holding court out of the bed of his truck as they waited for Ash and her helicopter to return from a morning supply run two towns over. No one had minded the idea of a quick safety briefing, but that had been well over an hour ago. Easton kept droning on and on.

Being hot would only get him so far. There was no fixing boring.

“Can you go over it one more time for me?” Bree asked, blinking innocently. “I always have the receiver on, right?”

With inhuman patience, Easton nodded, holding up a bright yellow avalanche transceiver. “No, not at camp. We only turn these on when we’re climbing.”

“She’s screwing with you, man,” Jessie said. “You’ve gone over this four times already. We know, okay? Besides, all of us have RECCO reflectors imbedded in our jackets. See?”

Jessie flipped open the jacket next to his hip, showing a leather tab protecting the radio signal boosting reflector from the elements.

Looking less than impressed, Easton handed a receiver to each of them. “Those help but aren’t a replacement for a transceiver in the kind of terrain we’re going into. This isn’t a ski slope, kid.”

“Did he call me a kid?” Jessie sounded affronted.