Page 16 of Ranger's Secret

This time, she gets it.

Her eyes flick to mine, and I catch that glimmer of satisfaction, the quiet pride that lights up her whole face when she succeeds at something.

"Go. Show them what you can do."

She walks back into the circle with her shoulders square and confidence restored. She ties the knot perfectly and holds it up for inspection. The client nods with genuine approval, and I see Brett's smirk fade into something sour.

She glances my way for just a second, and I catch the shape of her lips forming two words.

Thank you.

I don't nod. Don't smile. Don't give her anything the others might read as favoritism.

But something that's been wound tight in my chest since this morning finally loosens, and for the first time in eleven months, helping her feels more important than punishing her for running away.

The restof the day passes in a blur of trail work and stolen glances. Every time I catch her looking at me, she turns awayfast. But there's something different in her expression now. Less anger, more confusion. Like she's trying to figure out why I helped her instead of letting her fail.

Good. Let her wonder.

By evening, most of the volunteers have retreated to their cabins or gathered around the fire pit, swapping stories and nursing sore muscles. I'm finishing up paperwork in the ranger station when I hear footsteps on the gravel outside.

Delaney appears in the doorway, backlit by the dying light. She's in jeans and a sweater that clings to every curve I've been trying not to think about.

"Can I come in?" she asks.

I lean back in my chair, studying her. "It's a free country."

She steps inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"I wanted to thank you," she says, staying near the door like she might bolt. "For earlier. With the knot."

"You already did."

"I know, but..." She trails off, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't understand why you helped me. After last night, after everything, I figured you'd want to watch me fail."

I set down my pen and really look at her. There's something fragile in her typically guarded expression, something that makes me want to go easier on her.

"Maybe I did at first," I admit.

"What changed?"

I push back from the desk and stand, watching her tense as I move closer. I stop a few feet away, giving her space to breathe.

"You really want to know?"

She nods.

"Watching you struggle..." I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "It didn't feel like winning. It felt like watching someone I..." I pause again, the words sticking in my throat. "Someone I give a damn about get hurt."

Her eyes widen at my words.

"I know we're fucked up," I continue, taking another step closer. "I know I've been an ass. But seeing that piece of shit Brett smirk while you struggled... it made me want to fix it. Not for revenge or some twisted game. Just because it was you."

A shaky breath leaves her lips, her posture sagging as if the fight in her is slipping away.

"This is so messed up," she whispers.

That's when I see it. The guilt that's been eating at her, the weight she's been carrying.