I stepped back, slipping into guide mode. "Yes, this is a great spot. We'll take ten minutes here before continuing."

Delaney immediately moved away to join Kayla, leaving me to help other hikers navigate the crossing. But I caught her glancing my way more than once, her expression troubled.

The seeds of doubt were planted. Now I just had to see if they'd grow.

***

The trail steepened as we continued, the forest occasionally opening to reveal breathtaking views of the valley below. I kept the group moving at a steady pace, aware that dark clouds were beginning to gather over the distant peaks despite the current sunshine.

Summer storms in the mountains could move in quickly. I'd been monitoring the weather app all morning, calculating our timing. If we pushed a little faster, we could reach the summit lookout, enjoy the view, and start back down before the rain hit.

But nature had other plans.

We were about three-quarters of the way up when I felt the first drop. Then another. Within minutes, a light drizzle became a steady rain, sending unprepared hikers scrambling for cover.

"There's a rock outcropping ahead," I called out, pointing up the trail. "Large enough for everyone to shelter. Stay together!"

I urged the group forward, Matt helping a couple who'd been unprepared for the sudden shower. The outcropping appeared around the bend—a natural overhang that created a shallow cave-like space, big enough to fit everyone if we squeezed.

As hikers huddled together, shaking water from jackets and hats, I did a quick headcount. Everyone was accounted for—except Delaney.

A spike of alarm shot through me until I spotted her further along the rock wall, sheltering under a smaller overhang separate from the main group. Either by accident or design, she'd found the one spot that would put us alone together again.

I didn't question the gift. "Stay put, everyone," I instructed. "Matt's in charge. I need to check on our other shelter."

I made my way to Delaney, rain plastering my shirt to my skin. She'd managed to stay relatively dry, though droplets clung to her eyelashes and dampened the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"Looks like we'll be stuck here a while," I said, ducking under the overhang. The space was small enough that we stood only inches apart. "Summer storms usually pass quickly, but we should wait it out."

"Perfect," she muttered, pressing back against the rock wall. "Just perfect."

"If you hate my company that much, you're welcome to join the crowd over there," I nodded toward the main group, where people were laughing and taking selfies with the dramatic backdrop.

"It's not that." She sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. "This is just... complicated."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Really?" Her eyebrows rose. "My brother's best friend since childhood, who I slept with once, then got the brush-off from, now wants what, exactly? A vacation fling? Round two of 'this never happened'?"

The anger in her voice was justified, but there was hurt there too—hurt I'd caused.

"I want a chance," I said simply. "A real one this time."

"Why should I believe you?" She crossed her arms. "You had six months to call, to text something other than 'this never happened.' Six months, Jace. Not a word."

"I know." I stepped closer, unable to help myself. "I fucked up. I was a coward."

"Yes, you were."

"But I'm here now, saying I made a mistake. That night wasn't just some hookup for me, Dee. It was..." I searched for the words. "It was everything I'd wanted for years, and it terrified me."

She stared at me, raindrops pattering on the rocks around us, the sound filling the charged silence between us.

"Years?" she finally asked, her voice smaller.

"Since the summer you turned twenty-one and came home from college." The admission felt like a weight lifting. "You walked into the boathouse wearing that blue bikini, laughing about something with your friends, and it hit me all at once that you weren't Tyler's little sister anymore. You were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

Her lips parted in surprise. "That was six years ago."