Bree leaned forward and clicked to another file, labeled “summit.” Easton had placed the camera down and joined her on the very peak of the mountain.

“What did he say?” Bree pressed. “Up on the summit? We can’t get the audio.”

River’s fingers flexed at her side. “I can’t tell you. I don’t think it would be right.”

“But, River—”

“No.” Closing her eyes, River tried to compose herself. “Okay, you’re right. It was real. And now it’s gone. It’s done. What Easton and I had was one of the best things I’ve ever known in my life, and I won’t let you make this into some sort of sideshow. I can’t do this to him. Let’s stick to the original plan.”

Jessie wasn’t ready to give up the fight. “You realize the kind of film we’re looking at here could be huge, right? We could turn this over to the tourism board and cash a measly paycheck, or we could turn it into the documentary it deserves to be. This could turn your career around, River.”

“The answer is no. Trust me, if Easton were here, he’d agree with me.”

As she left the studio, River knew that whatever they’d had, it was going to stay on that mountain. She cared about him way too much to exploit him, even if it didn’t get them anywhere professionally.

And if it tanked her filming career before it even started? Well, that was a risk River was willing to take.

• • •

The problem with being in a small town was everyone knew when you’d gotten your heart broken. When he found out they’d even started a thread about him in the town chat room, labeling sad Easton sightings, he seriously considered going back out and finding the marmot. It understood his pain.

For a man as private as Easton, being the topic of interest particularly sucked.

It didn’t help that everywhere he went had been touched by her in some fashion. His house. Places around town. He couldn’t even turn on the highway without seeing her walking down it, suitcase of rocks in hand, those brilliant blue eyes challenging him for stopping to help. Even his favorite coffee shop had been ruined.

He couldn’t remember how she’d ordered her coffee that day they’d done the gear check. He’d gone for a cup after failing to successfully return to his routine without her. For some reason, Easton was so upset by his inability to recall the proper combination, he almost crushed the offending drink in his hand. Instead, he sat on a bench outside, looking at the park where she’d handed him the worst coffee he’d ever tasted.

Damn, he missed her.

“May I join you?”

Easton’s jaw twitched, but he kept his tone controlled. It wasn’t Tasha’s fault his heart was thousands of miles away. “I’m not commenting on the climb, Tasha. Or on River.”

He didn’t need to, not with her face plastered on every television station he turned to. More than a few regional papers had reached out for interviews, but Easton had nothing to say to any of them. There was nothing to say. It was done. She was gone.

End of story.

Tasha sat next to him, her pen and notepad in her purse. Once, he’d enjoyed her presence. Now, it reminded him that the one he wanted, the right one, wasn’t there.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tasha asked quietly, taking a sip of her coffee. “Off the record?”

He snorted. “What’s the angle?”

“We’re still friends, Easton,” she reminded him. “I’m capable of caring and listening without a recorder in my hands.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

She waited, and when Easton didn’t continue, Tasha nodded. “You know, I thought I loved you once. I even thought you might have loved me. But then I saw you and River together after we talked last time, and I knew what we had wasn’t even close. It was nothing compared to the way you looked at her. And I’m okay with that. I’m just worried about you.” Taking his hand, Tasha squeezed it. “You look like someone hit you with a truck.”

He felt it too.

“It doesn’t matter,” Easton finally said. “River left because her life isn’t here. She was only here to film a documentary that I screwed up for her. It was my job to keep her safe, to get her to the summit and back down again. Instead, they lost half their footage, and all three of them ended up in the hospital. She never did complete the climb down. I’m not real sure how to make that up to her.”

Tasha nodded. “Easton…you don’t run a diner for a living—”

“Thank goodness. Thirty minutes of that was more than enough for me.”

She smiled. “You don’t run a diner. You don’t write articles for a paper. You climb mountains. The tallest, most dangerous mountains. And just because your record is so good doesn’t mean that there won’t be climbs that go wrong.”

When he started to interject, Tasha squeezed his hand again. “The difference is, you’re in love with your client. As someone whose been lucky enough to get close to you, I know how deeply you care about the people you love. It was never me, but it is River. If you’re trying to find some way to process losing her, beating yourself up over a tough climb isn’t it. You did your job. The rest of it…got messy.”

Taking a final sip of her coffee, she added, “Sometimes messy is the best part. Sometimes it’s worth it. You always were for me. I’m betting you were for River too.”

When Easton didn’t answer, Tasha left him to drink his coffee alone, but her words stayed with him. The climbing season was over, meaning Easton should have been focused on scheduling his off-season work. Guided alpine climbs were his bread and butter, but teaching people to climb these mountains, even indoor climbing, was what Easton excelled at. He could have helped Ash or bothered Graham at the diner. Instead, he stayed in the woods the rest of the day, taking refuge from prying eyes as he tracked the local wildlife to practice his skills. He wandered into town on foot and eventually found himself at Rick’s, on a stool toward the end of the bar.

As Easton sat nursing a beer in between his hands at the pool hall, he didn’t look at the mirror behind Rick’s shoulder. He wasn’t interested in seeing the loss in his eyes or the fact that he could use a shower and some fresh clothes.

“You know, most guys your size nurse getting their guts ripped out in the solitude of their own homes. You’re scaring off all Rick’s customers with your death face.”

Easton didn’t look up at Graham’s voice. “My death face?”

Ash dropped down in the seat on his other side. “That’s his clever way of saying you look terrible. Whew, you’re ripe smelling. Rick, how many has he had?”