What surprised him the most was that he felt the same damn way.
• • •
Easton wasn’t a mean person. Still, his words had cut her to the bone.
The absolute last thing River wanted to do was walk back into the Veil, but he was right. They couldn’t spend the night without cover, so back into the cauldron they returned. Anxiety kept her hand on the fixed line, and even though her brain knew she couldn’t see Easton behind her, River kept turning around to check on him. She was as worried about him getting through as she was the rest of them. Finally, they emerged out of the bottom of the ice canyon and limped to their campsite.
Never before had River been so glad they didn’t have to set up camp. All she wanted was to sleep for a month.
Bree met her as she was taking off her gear in her tent. “River? Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, jerking off her boots and dropping down to her sleeping mat. Bree joined her.
“Jessie’s worried too, but you know how he is.”
With a small laugh, River said, “He’d rather suck on a lemon than tell me?”
“Something like that.”
River stayed quiet for a few moments, but Bree was a patient person. Finally, River sighed. “I should be over there swooning beneath the glory of the man bun, but I’m so mad at him, I can’t think straight.”
Taking her hand, Bree squeezed it.
“River, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Easton, but what I do know is there hasn’t been a day since we started this climb without cameras on you all the time. Shot after shot, and you know what? He is always there. Just like with Ruby Lou, standing with his arms crossed, frown on his face—”
“We think,” River joked half-heartedly. “The beard still fools me.”
Bree nodded ruefully. “Yes. We think, but we don’t know. But what we do know—or at least Jessie and I know—is for a man who only wanted to be filmed from the knees down, he’s in almost every single shot. He won’t leave your side, River.”
Squeezing her hand again, Bree lay down next to her. “I don’t know Easton. But I know the expression on his face when he was trying to find you. He was terrified.”
Bree let that linger between them before continuing.
“We make movies for a living. We show people excitement and love and romance. We make being afraid exciting and being rescued sexy. But real fear…it’s not sexy. It makes you want to curl up in a ball, hide in a tent, and yell at the people you love. Real fear is awful. And you both went through that today.”
“You think I love him?” River looked at her friend.
“I think you something him. And I know he somethings you too. From what Ben told me, he went full Indiana Jones in there to save you.”
River nodded, inhaling a deep breath and feeling like there was never enough oxygen to fill her lungs. Just like Easton. One word, one look, one kiss. One touch of his hand on her skin, and River was laid out, a fish suffocating on the shore. Dying for more. And she’d almost gotten him killed, which was a big, big problem.
Today, Easton Lockett had proved he was willing to die for her.
“For what it’s worth,” Bree said, “I think he’s as upset as you are. I think you should go talk to him.”
River climbed to her feet. “For what it’s worth,” she decided, “I think I should too.”
• • •
Choosing not to eat with his people, Easton stayed in his tent, brooding over the maps and visualizing the best paths to take up the mountain. The marmot had been waiting for him, clearly upset at being left behind again and giving Easton his second chewing out of the day. He’d thought letting it into his tent would help, but apparently that gave them the privacy for the marmot to express its displeasure.
“I can’t take you through the Veil,” he told the furball. “It’s not safe for you.”
A harsh chittering reply told him the marmot strongly disagreed.
“I can’t even get them safely through. And I never made any promises to you about summiting.”
The marmot bit his boot.
“Oh, that’s really mature. Compromise is two-sided you know.”
A sniff of disgust was all the marmot would reply.
Distracted by the argument, Easton didn’t notice someone approaching his tent until a hand lightly slapped the outside fabric.
“Knock-knock.”
He could no sooner refuse her entrance than he could stop the sun from circling the sky. “Come in,” Easton grunted. “Watch out. The furball is pissed off.”
River had a thermos that smelled of tomato soup in her hand and a look of wanting to make peace on her face. At least the expressionlessness was gone. Easton had never hated anything more than looking at her and her not looking back at him. When the marmot narrowed its eyes at her, he scooped it up and dumped it outside, zipping the tent.
“One lecture at a time,” Easton grumbled when she raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t come to dinner,” she said by way of explanation.
“Had a protein bar.” Even as he said it, he accepted the thermos she offered him. “Thanks.”
Easton wasn’t hungry in the least, and the protein bar he’d forced down had tasted like chalk. Still, he kept the thermos in his lap to protect it from the icy ground.
“On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you at me?”
At her question, Easton finally met her eyes. “I’m not sure. But the marmot might be back in the tent tonight.”
“And I’m out?” River joked.
“We’re still deciding.”
“I’m sorry,” River said quietly. “I know I screwed up. In the moment, I couldn’t let it go.”
Easton took a sip of the soup, even though he didn’t like tomato soup. She’d made it for him, and that meant something to him. “I know the feeling.”
Sitting next to him, River took off her boots, then folded her legs beneath her.
“Did you check your feet?” he asked, rougher than he’d wanted to.
“Yeah. I think I’m getting frostbite on my pinkie toe.”
Easton’s head snapped up.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” she admitted, “but I can’t feel it anymore.”
“Show me.” Half expecting her to argue, Easton frowned at her. He didn’t understand the smile that came to her face. “What?”