Her smile gone, she shook her head. “I don’t need rescuing.” Then she gnawed on her lip. “Okay, so not counting the snake and the tire, I don’t need rescuing.”

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. You’re one of the strongest women I know. You bury your shit deep. I know a little about that, Lily, and it never works out well. I can promise you that.”

“And just what do you think I’m burying?” she asked.

“Just about everything … including your feelings for me,” he said.

She stared at him. He waited for her to laugh and deny it, or throw the words back in his face, but she did neither.

“This is my battle to fight,” she said. “Alone.”

This was an alien concept for Aidan, who never felt alone. Hell, his siblings lived right on top of him. “But you’re not alone.”

“I need to be for this,” she said stubbornly.

Independent to the end. And God forbid she accept help or support from anyone, especially him. “Lily, you’ve been on your own a long time, but you don’t have to be—”

“The past is the past. It plays no part in the here and now.”

“If that was really true, you wouldn’t be harboring a mad at me,” he said.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You sure about that?” he asked.

She held his gaze for only a beat before looking away.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” he said.

“Oh, goodie,” she said. “Sounds like fun.” And then she took off down the trail on her own.

Chapter 18

Lily slept poorly that night, thinking of what Aidan had said. She was mad at him, she realized. Not because of Ashley. It wasn’t his fault her sister had fallen for him. No, Lily was mad because he’d made her want him again, with no effort at all.

Also not his fault, a small part of her brain said.

She didn’t care. She wanted him, quite badly as it turned out, and irrational or not, it made her mad. Being back in Cedar Ridge was hard. Being on the mountain was even harder. But she was working on all of that.

But to fall for Aidan and even consider sticking around as she did in the deep dark of the night?

Insanity.

And now she was getting somewhere, she had to admit. Her anger was a cover-up for the real emotion that was clogging her throat—fear. Fear for her, because she wasn’t good at needing and wanting someone, and that made her vulnerable. She hated being vulnerable.

And in any case, she was much better at being independent and alone.