Page 43 of Easy, Tiger

He sets me on my feet but keeps one arm spanned across my lower back, eyes scrutinizing the collapsed bridge above us. "Someone cut those cables. This wasn't an accident."

"Don't change the subject." Compressing my palm against his bleeding forehead, I feel for the skull fracture that should be there. Instead, I find unmarked bone beneath superficial cuts. "How are you not seriously injured right now?"

"Lucky, I guess."

"Luck doesn't explain superhuman reflexes or surviving impacts that should put you in intensive care."

"Halsey—"

"And how did you even get here so fast? Were you following me?"

The silence drapes between us, filled with thunder and the sound of my sketchbook pages fluttering in the wind. Something in Nolan's face conceals secrets I'm only beginning to recognize, answers to questions I haven't known how to ask.

Rebounding from his calming hands, my voice cuts through the wind, sharp and unforgiving. "Deflection is finished. Convenient timing and lucky explanations are out of the question. I'm done pretending this is normal."

Nolan's mouth forms a hard line, but he doesn't deny it.

"You appear every time I'm in trouble. Every single time." Counting off on my fingers, I ignore how they shake. "The cabin break-in, the feeling of being watched, and now you simply happen to be close enough to catch me mid-fall? What are the odds, Nolan?"

"Halsey—"

"And that shoulder injury that perfectly matched the tiger I helped? The one that healed incredibly fast? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He flinches like I've slapped him. "Never. You're the most observant person I've ever met."

"Then stop insulting my intelligence with these non-answers."

Thunder crashes overhead, closer now, and the first fat raindrops splatter against the rocks around us. Nolan checks the darkening sky, then back at me with something that bears a suspicious resemblance to panic.

"The storm⁠—"

"I don't care about the storm." Planting my feet wider, I refuse to be moved. "I care about you lying to me. After everything we've shared, after I trusted you with parts of myself I haven't shown anyone, you're still keeping secrets."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is, is it? There's always some reason why I can't handle the truth." It's a bitter, familiar excuse. "That's what my former business partner said. What every person who's ever betrayed me said."

Something breaks across Nolan's features. He reaches for me, then stops, hands suspended in the air between us.

"You're nothing like them."

"Then prove it. Tell me what you're hiding."

The rain picks up, turning the dust around us to mud. My scattered sketches soak through, pencil lines bleeding into grey watercolor smears. Months of work dissolving while we stand here locked in this standoff.

Nolan witnesses the destruction of my art, genuine pain written across his face. "One more night. Give me one more night, and I'll tell you everything. I promise."

"Why? What changes in twenty-four hours?"

"I need to do this right. You deserve better than explanations shouted over a storm in the absolute backwoods."

Probing his features, I search for the familiar signs of manipulation I learned to recognize too late with others. Instead, I find exhaustion and a raw, clawing desperation.

"One night," I say finally. "But no more emergencies, no more convenient distractions. Tomorrow, you tell me everything, or we're done."

The hard lines of his face instantly soften. "Thank you."

We gather what remains of my supplies in tense silence, salvaging the sketches that aren't completely ruined. Nolan moves with unfaltering grace, keeping his profile sharp against the storm but staying close enough to shield me from the worst of the wind.