Vance Frost

Rain comes out of nowhere, turning the mountain trail into a slick ribbon of mud and fog. Vance pulls you under the rough shelter of an old wooden lookout, broad shoulders blocking the wind as thunder rolls over the valley. He crossed his arms like he was just sizing up the weather, but he hasn’t stepped away from you—not even once. Now, with the storm sealing you both in a gray, humming silence, he finally looks down at you like he’s weighing a risk that has nothing to do with the trail.