Jaren watched her for a long moment, likely seeing that her fear had increased — and wasn’t solely because of the mountain anymore. He nodded slowly and said, “Take a running leap, just to be safe. Like this.”
He backed up a few steps and then bounded forward, clearing the crevice with ease and landing lightly on the other side.
“Now your turn,” he called.
Kiva didn’t think about what she was doing, knowing that if she did, she would yield to her better judgment. Instead, she backed up and then sprang forward, pushing off from the hard white salt and leaping straight over the gap. She stumbled a little upon landing, the weight of her pack tipping her backwards toward the crevice, causing a second of instant, paralyzing terror. But then Jaren was there, his arms snaking around her and drawing her forward until she was a safe distance from the fissure, her heart thundering and legs trembling as she remained pressed against his body, unable to move.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
She couldn’t answer immediately, partly because of what had just happened, but also because he’d yet to let her go. Somehow, she managed to pull herself together and step away, brushing her hair behind her ear with a shaking hand as she nodded and replied with a hoarse, “Thank you.”
It took a while for Kiva’s tremors to ease, and they spiked all over again with each new crevice they found, the jagged lines cutting into the mountain with alarming regularity the higher they ascended. Some they were able to walk around, but others were like the first and required them to jump — though Kiva was careful to consider her pack now, adding extra distance to her leaps to avoid any more surprise embraces.
Soon her concerns about the fissures were replaced with anxiety about the weather, since dark clouds had begun to form worryingly close to where they climbed. Both she and Jaren continued scanning upward with unease, and when the first spot of rain touched Kiva’s cheek, she knew they were reaching a point where they would have to consider finding shelter.
But then she saw it — the cave at the top of the mountain.
Jaren saw it too and turned to smile widely at her, his expression so joyous, so carefree, that she staggered to a halt.
That was when the earth moved.
Kiva felt as if she was standing on the back of a great beast that had awoken, the salt shifting, the ground cracking, an almighty roar echoing across the mountain range. The sound made her want to cover her ears, but she was too busy trying to remain on her feet, her hand automatically reaching for Jaren’s, grabbing hold of him just as the peak split in two —
Right beneath their feet.
A terrified shriek left Kiva and she leapt backwards, hauling Jaren with her, but the salt cracked and crumbled under him, unable to hold his weight as the crevice opened like an angry slash across the summit.
And then he was falling.
“NO!” Kiva screamed as he plummeted into the fissure, his mass pulling her down until she was on her stomach and hanging precariously over the edge, holding on to him for dear life. She stretched out her free hand to reinforce her grip, straining against his bulky weight, a new wave of terror hitting her when she realized he was too heavy for her to pull him up on her own.
“You need to help me!” she cried.
But he was already working on it, reaching with his left hand, his knuckles white as he found a grip on the ledge and began to pull himself upward. Kiva added her strength, heaving with all her might.
And then, suddenly, he was out, the force of his momentum causing them both to tumble backwards onto the surface with him landing on top of her, the two of them lying there, panting fiercely, unable to move.
Kiva wasn’t sure who was shaking more. Her arms circled Jaren instinctively, her heart pounding so hard that she could barely hear her own labored breaths. There were tears trickling from her eyes, a fear response she couldn’t help, just as she couldn’t let him go, even knowing that she should.
She wasn’t sure how long it took before he was able to rise onto his elbows, looking down at her with wonder as he said, “You saved me.”
Her senses returning, Kiva pushed at his chest, but he didn’t move.
“You’ve saved me plenty of times,” she said weakly. Raindrops began sprinkling lightly on them, the quiet drip, drip, drip touching Kiva’s face and blending with her tears.
Jaren shifted, but only so he could move his hand to her cheek, his fingers gently tracing the evidence of her distress, prompting an involuntary shiver in response. “Why are you crying?”
Kiva pushed at his chest again, a new kind of panic hitting her. “Can you please move?”
He didn’t budge. “Why are you crying, Kiva?”
“Why do you think?” she said, growing angry now. Anger was good. Anger meant she didn’t have to feel everything else she was currently experiencing. “I just watched you fall into a mountain. You could have died.”
“And that upset you?”
Kiva gaped at him, then shoved him with all her might, hard enough that she was able to wriggle out from beneath him and lurch up to her feet. Her back gave a sharp bark of pain from where she’d landed on her pack, but she ignored it and glared at Jaren as he rose before her. They were both careful to keep a safe distance from the new crevice, the mountain having settled once more, even if Kiva felt as if everything within her was still shifting dangerously.
“Did you seriously just ask that?” she hissed, swiping at her face and scowling up at the sky as the sprinkles increased. A rumble of thunder in the distance made her aware that they needed to hurry for the cave before any lightning arrived, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, waiting for Jaren’s answer.
“I did,” he said, his eyes steady on hers. “You’ve been avoiding me. I have no idea how you feel. So I asked.”
Unlike Kiva, he was no longer shaking, as if he was already over the near miss of what had just occurred, his focus entirely on her now.
Her anger growing, Kiva leaned forward and said, “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s what you want.”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for days, you know that. It’s been incredibly frustrating,” Jaren returned, his calm voice at odds with his statement. “You’ve been avoiding me because you’re afraid.”
Kiva glared at him. “I’m not afraid.”
“You are,” he said. “You’ve barely been able to look at me for weeks.”
Kiva threw out her arms, too shaken by everything that had just happened to filter her response. “You’re the one who wouldn’t look at me! You told me you wanted nothing to do with me — so I gave you that!”
“I lied.”
With those two words, every part of Kiva stilled, her anger vanishing into a strange numbness as she took in his honest, open expression. Then panic flooded her, and she shook her head firmly, taking a step backwards, her heart beginning to pound all over again. “You didn’t. You’re just confused. You — You hate me.”
Pain, raw and unmistakable, washed over Jaren’s features. He closed his eyes slowly, and when he opened them again, it was still there, haunting his gaze. “I could never hate you, Kiva.”
She shook her head again, adamant now, refusing to listen. “You do. And that’s — that’s fine. You don’t need to act like you don’t. After everything I did —”