Colton startled at her kindness like it had been set gently but unexpectedly in his hands. For a second he didn’t know where to put it, how to hold it without breaking something. The words about brothers and living and scars landed soft but heavy, pressing somewhere behind his ribs. And then she said that word again, about herself, and it slipped out of him before he could think better of it, rough with instinct and honest care.
“Don’t—don’t call yourself that,” he blurted, ears already warming, voice low but firm in the way a tree was firm, not loud, just unmovable. He swallowed after, suddenly shy about having spoken at all, eyes dropping to the planks beneath their feet. He hadn’t meant to bare anything when he talked to her before. He’d just answered her questions. Just told the truth because it felt like she deserved it. Somehow that had turned into something gentler and deeper than he’d expected, something that made his chest ache in a quiet way.
Then she apologized for the flirting, crossed her heart, and before he could sort through what to say to that, before he could tell her she didn’t need to change herself into something smaller or quieter or easier, she sat down on the edge of the platform. His brows knit in confusion as he took a step forward, hand lifting halfway, uncertain.
“Blair, you don’t gotta—”
But she was already pushing off.
For one stunned heartbeat, Colton just stood there staring at the empty space she’d left behind, the water below still rippling from her fall. Then a surprised snort burst out of him, half laugh, half disbelief, and before his thoughts could catch up to his body, he was moving too, feet pounding once, twice, and then nothing beneath him at all.
The jump felt different than it ever had before, especially with no rope to swing him across. No spike of fear. No flash of heat or smoke in the back of his mind. Just wind tearing past his ears, a bright, weightless second where the world held its breath with him, and then the cool rush of water splashing around his body like a clean answer. He smacked into the surface near her with a splash, hair slicked back, lungs burning in a good way, laughter caught in his throat.
He wiped water from his eyes and found her standing beside him, real and solid and alive, and his grin came wide and unguarded, sun-bright, dimples deep, all the warmth he carried written plainly across his face.
Blair turned away from the splash with an incredulous laugh. She had expected him to swing across to the other side and wait for her, or something, not jump right in after her. She couldn’t hide her stunned smile as she looked over him, thigh deep in water beside her. "Didn’t your mother ever warn you about not jumping off of bridges because your friends do?"
Colton tilted his head as he pretended to think about that, chuckling to himself at the idea of that sort of conversation taking place with his mom. He was certain it had, but it had likely been phrased more along the lines of don’t go cattle tipping if your friends invite you, you never know which farmer has a shotgun but… well, he knew all farmers had a shotgun or ten. “I was scared of heights for most of my life,” he grinned. “So… no.”
“For the record, there’s no such thing as an ugly scar,” he said, voice easy. “They just mean you lived through somethin’ hard, that you’re a survivor.” He hesitated a fraction of a second, then added more softly, “And you’re fine the way you are. You don’t gotta be… better. Not for me. Not for anyone, as long as you’re happy.”
"You—" She poked his chest, trying her damndest not to focus on the rigidity of his muscles beneath her finger. "—haven’t seen my scar. ‘Survivor’ is a loose term, but considering you’re not technically wrong, I’ll let you have that one."
Colton’s second comment hit a little deeper, weighing down the corners of her smile as her gaze fell to the surface of the water rippling around her legs. "I’m… trying to figure that out," she confessed quietly. The truth was, Blair was trying to be better for herself, kinder to herself. True that didn’t mean she needed to dull her shine, but maybe she did when it was the root of the problem, if only a little. Being herself didn’t seem to do much for her recently, but she supposed she met Anissa and Colton—although him showing up to help her had absolutely nothing to do with her, but maybe him sticking around did. What the hell did she know?
"But I’d like to be happy someday," she added with a smile that was painted with the quiet optimism of someone who hasn’t given up. Blair was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a quitter. She was far too stubborn to let a little melancholy and loneliness drag her down indefinitely.
He paused, glancing back at Blair with a softened expression. “That’s a good goal to have,” and he understood it, because that was the same thing he wanted for himself. Colton hauled himself up, water streaming off his clothes, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Then he turned back to her and held out his hand, rough palm open, patient and sure as good ground. “C’mon,” he said gently. “I got you.”
Blair followed him toward the edge of the pool, wading through the water with soft sloshes. Her eyes found his face before dropping to his offered hand. That time she didn’t hesitate, like even in the short time he’s been her shadow, she’s found a strange comfort in accepting his help. She placed her bandaged hand in his and wrapped her fingers around his thumb before letting him help lift her out of the water. Once she stable with both feet firmly upon the ground, she let go and made her way toward the next obstacle.
Recalling her previous attempt, Blair preemptively twisted and scuffed her shoes in the dirt and sand to try and remove what water she could from her shoes. She slowly approached the rising beam. She took a second to steady her breathing before bracing her right foot against the wood and extending her arms. It was easy, just one foot in front of the other. That’s what she did the first time. While she was no longer hungover to hell and over, exhaustion was still blurring the edges of what she could and couldn’t do, and the last thing she wanted was to fall… again. She drew in a sharp breath and forced herself to climb. With every step her body rocked back and forth, and her arms flapped and flailed to try and keep her upright.
Colton lingered a step behind her as she approached the beam, slowing his pace until he was directly beneath it, close enough that his shadow folded over hers but far enough that he wouldn’t crowd her balance. There wasn’t much he could do here, no steadying hand, no careful boost, no clever trick to make gravity kinder, but instinct still pulled him forward, eyes tracking every wobble of her ankles, every frantic windmill of her arms.
His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, flexing now and then like they remembered the shape of catching her and wanted to be ready again. He moved when she moved, paused when she paused, breath unconsciously syncing to the uneven rhythm of hers, heart giving a small, unreasonable jolt every time her foot slipped half an inch too far to one side. If she fell, he would be there. That much, at least, he could promise the universe in the quiet of his chest.
And somewhere between one careful step and the next, it surprised him how much he was enjoying this, how easy it felt to simply exist beside her, even in the middle of sweat and sore muscles and the low ache of exertion. It reminded him, faintly, of the time he’d spent with Sloane that morning, the calm that settled in without permission, the strange peace that came from shared silence and small, unremarkable moments stitched together. He hadn’t expected friendship to feel like this, soft around the edges, steady, something that didn’t demand anything but presence. It was nice, he thought, to make more friends, to let his life widen in gentle, human ways instead of sharp, lonely ones. Though, distantly, he supposed he ought to find a guy friend or two someday soon, just to keep things balanced… even if right now, walking beneath Blair’s careful progress across the beam, balance felt like the last thing his heart was concerned with at all.
Blair’s progress across the beams was slow, like everything else she had done throughout the course. Her footing was abysmal and her muscles ached every time she had to over correct a misstep. She actually had decent balance from years spent in stilettos, but exhaustion was pulling her thinner and thinner with every obstacle. There was a fleeting moment where she wondered if she could do it better in heels. Probably. But she wasn’t going to make the journey back to her cabin just to grab a pair. If she left the arena, she wasn’t coming back and she was certain that would come with a whole other slew of problems from nipple boy over there. When she reached the descending beam, Blair hurried down it before gravity or her balance could betray her. The momentum carried her a few feet forward in a sloppy short run, but she managed to stop with a small skid along the sand.
After catching her breath, Blair wasted no time slipping off her shoes and socks. She scooped them up and held them out to Colton with a tired smile. "Do you mind?" She flashed him a reassuring wink as she tugged the zipper up on her crop top until her shirt was fastened all the way up to the collar. "Don’t worry. Swimming is the one thing I can do." She patted his bicep once, being extra sure not to let her hand linger—although it was insanely tempting—and then made her way toward the pool.
She didn’t run at it or make a show of getting in. Even if swimming was the one challenge she could handle without an issue, Blair was entirely too deflated to even think she could somehow redeem herself with her aquatic skills. She stopped with her bare feet at the edge, toes curling around the lip. Then, with a deep breath she pushed off and dove into the water. She slipped into a perfect freestyle. There was no rush in her strokes, just an elegant patience of one arm then the other, breathe and kick. The water was soothing against her aching muscles and while she absolutely hated being in wet clothes, she was thankful to be rid of the sweat and grime from the course.
Compared to the other obstacles, even when taking her time, this was by far Blair’s fastest. She reached the opposite side of the pool in the time it would take someone to walk the length of it. She emerged from the far side, wiping water from her eyes and slicking back her drenched hair. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the daunting log ladder that waited ominously for her. "This place is going to be the death of me," she muttered under her breath, resting her hands on the edge of the pool in no rush to get out. Perhaps she could just live there from now on. Learn how to grow gills and a tail and become the camp's resident mermaid. There could be worse things.
Colton took her shoes and socks with a smile that came easy and stayed, curling warm at the corners of his mouth like sunlight that had decided to linger. He hooked the laces over two fingers, and watched her go with an easy fondness that surprised him in its own quiet way. Then he waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while the course lived and breathed around him. Campers ran past in bursts of effort and laughter and frustration, water sloshing, sand kicking up in pale clouds. His gaze wandered without much intention, catching on small stories unfolding at the edges; River sitting stiff at the edge of the arena, speaking to two women with that pinched, uncomfortable look like he’d been cornered into a conversation he didn’t know how to leave… or maybe like he really had to use the bathroom and was too polite to say so.
Farther off, he spotted Sloane’s group trudging out of the last shallow pool, soaked and miserable. He smiled to himself at that, not because she was likely exhausted but because she’d made it. There were other faces too, two girls sitting together on the course, talking quietly, some passing faces were blurred and nameless, all rerunning the course or talking at the edges of the arena or leaving. He even thought he saw a guy from his own run, someone he’d been certain had passed, splashing back into the water like the course had personally called him out for round two. Colton huffed a quiet laugh under his breath. Camp was strange. Exhausting. Kind of wonderful.
He turned back just as Blair surfaced on the far side, water slicking her hair dark and shining, shoulders rising with slow, steady breaths. He crouched near the edge of the pool, resting on the balls of his feet, her shoes dangling loosely from his hand like a small, ordinary offering. There was something about the way she looked right then, tired but stubborn, elegant even in defeat, that tugged a soft, careless warmth through his chest. His voice lifted before he really thought about it, bright and easy, charm slipping out the way breath did.
“Hey,” he called gently, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re nearly there, you know.” He tipped his head toward the looming log ladder, then back to her, grin widening just a touch.
“Just a little more, then you can nap, or eat, or… do whatever it is pretty girls do after horribly brutal obstacle courses ruin their mornings.” His smile stayed gentle, unassuming, entirely unaware of how naturally the flirtation lived in his tone, how it threaded itself into kindness without ever asking permission.
Blair looked up as he reached the edge of the pool in front of her, his presence blocking out the sun and casting her in shadow. She tilted her head back slightly, watching him lower himself from a tower of muscles and southern charm to something smaller and unassuming as he held out her shoes toward her. She followed the nod of his head toward the looming ladder and sighed. "Oh yeah. I just have the most—"
She paused, corner of her mouth curling upwards at the compliment he laced so effortlessly into his words, one that Blair wasn’t even sure if he was aware he did it. She couldn’t help the small laugh that followed, echoing off the water and the space between them. "You’re cute," she said plainly as her hand emerged out of the water. But she didn’t take her shoes. Instead she slipped her cool and damp fingers into his other empty palm… before he offered and before she asked, assuming he’d help her out as easily and unbothered as he had with everything else.
Colton’s breath caught, not in any dramatic way, not sharp or loud, but like his chest had briefly forgotten what it was meant to do when she called him cute. The word hit him square and unguarded, and his smile bloomed slow and bright in response, honest enough that it felt like the best compliment he’d ever been handed. Maybe it was. His eyes softened at the edges, crinkling in a way that made the warmth in his expression linger, like he hadn’t quite decided how to put it away yet.
Then her fingers slipped into his palm. Cool. Damp. Certain. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask. Didn’t overthink it.
His hand closed around hers easily, steady and sure, the motion as natural as breathing. With his other arm, he braced and lifted her up and out of the pool in one smooth motion, no strain, no spectacle, like he’d done it a hundred times before and never once questioned whether he should. Water streamed from her clothes, droplets catching the light as he took a single step back once her feet found solid ground, releasing her just as effortlessly as he’d taken hold, giving her space without ever making it feel like distance. His grin stayed, soft and a little dazzled.
Blair didn’t really climb out of the pool as much as she was lifted. The ease at which he hoisted her up stole her breath and stunned her momentarily. She had to try very very hard not to stare at his flexing bicep or the tensing muscles peeking out from beneath the torn hem of his shirt. Once she found her footing and he released her hand, she cleared her throat and looked up at him with a smile that spoke her gratitude without words. "I can’t speak for other girls, but I’m desperate for like… an hour long bubble bath." Her smile grew, tinged with the greed that came from simple pleasures like candles, hot water to melt away the ache in her muscles, and a glass of wine. Then her face immediately contorted into a disgusted grimace. "No wine though. It’s like, not even noon and the thought of alcohol after that hangover is actually nauseating." She laughed softly at her own misery, but ultimately was unbothered by it.
Colton laughed softly at her confession, the sound warm and easy, like it had been waiting right there behind his smile. He rocked back on his heels, shoulders loose, eyes bright with that unthinking optimism that seemed to follow him everywhere. “Back home, folks swear by pickle juice for hangovers.” He lifted a finger, earnest as could be, as if imparting sacred wisdom. “Not glamorous, I know, but they say it helps with the headache and the nausea. Something ‘bout electrolytes or salt or—well, I dunno exactly.” The grin that followed was unapologetic, golden and bright. “Worth a shot though, right?”
She laughed softly, looking up at him with a small smile of disbelief with a scrunched nose. "You’ve never drank a day in your life, have you?" Blair asked with a small shake of her head, but there was no judgement. If anything, the softness behind her eyes was almost endearing. "The cute girl with braids patched me up pretty well, but if I ever need pickle juice, I know who to bug." Then her head cocked to the side, brows furrowing as the other, less PG, meaning of her words flooded her mind. She squinted her eyes for just a second before shaking it off. Get your mind out of the gutter, Blair.
“You move really well in the water,” he said, tone easy and sincere, like it was an observation rather than a flirtation, though the charm slipped through all the same. He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he looked at her properly now, hair slicked back, cheeks flushed, something quietly luminous about her in the aftermath of motion.
“You ever swim competitively?” he asked, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the heel of her shoe where it still hung from his fingers.
Her head tilted to the side slightly as he spoke, hands sweeping her drenched hair over to one side. "You’re sweet, but no." A soft chuckle hummed behind her lips as she started ringing out her hair, letting the excess water slip free and darken the sand between them. "I’m not very athletic, if you couldn’t already tell." Her fingers ran back through her dark mane, separating the locks into their natural coils. "But my father bought my brother and I ‘the best swimming instructor money could buy.’" She made dramatic air quotes for emphasis before continuing. "If nothing else, I know I’ll never drown."
Blair took a small step forward, slowly reaching out her hand to take back her shoes from him. All the while she held his gaze, her dark eyes seeming to soften the closer she reached the end of the course. It was mostly from the fatigue that was settling into her bones, but beneath that was a part of her that had eased around Colton, simply because he was seeing her at her worst and still didn’t judge her. Ok, well maybe not her worst, but definitely her most downtrodden. "Thanks."
She slowly walked over toward one of the other obstacles, toes squishing in the sand and leaving behind dark prints in her wake. Blair leaned against one of the wooden supports, brushed the sand and dirt from her right foot, pulled on her sock and then her shoe. Once finished with one foot she did the other. There was no ceremony or procrastination behind it, just a resolute determination and desire to be so fucking done with this. She slapped her hands against her thighs and stood upright.
The ladder stretched so tall that it nearly brushed the clouds as it waited for her to attempt it once again. Each step Blair took closer, the pit in her stomach grew. She saw a lot of people fall on this obstacle, too many, that it was a surprise she survived with only a twisted ankle the first time. How the hell she was going to defeat it a second time, she didn’t know. But she had to, there was no other choice. She was far too tired to attempt push ups now and after making it this far, she kind of owed it to herself to see it through… As long as it didn’t kill her in the process. She stopped in front of the lowest rung and rested her palm against the log with a sigh. "What’s the worst that could happen?" she whispered to the wood like the obstacle would take pity on her.
Colton watched her walk away with a quiet stillness that surprised him, her damp footprints marking the sand like a soft, temporary map of resolve. He didn’t rush after her. Instead, he mirrored her pause when she stopped at the base of the ladder, standing there for the same stretched heartbeat, eyes traveling up the towering logs and back down again. He could see it written all over her posture, the fatigue, the dread, the stubborn refusal to quit now. Something in his chest tightened, not fear exactly, but a deep, instinctive pull toward her, like gravity deciding its preference. When she rested her hand against the wood, he exhaled slowly, as if coming to a decision that had already been made for him.
After that brief beat of hesitation, he moved. Closing the distance in a few easy strides, Colton reached the ladder and hoisted himself onto the first rung, shoes thudding solidly into place as though the obstacle itself had accepted him without question. He leaned down then, arm extending naturally, hand open and waiting for hers, his smile bright and steady and utterly sincere. “Hey,” he said softly, eyes warm as they met hers. “I won’t let you fall.” The promise wasn’t loud or dramatic, it didn’t need to be. It lived in the way he held his balance, in the unwavering confidence of his grip, in the simple certainty in which he extended his hand to her.
Blair only looked over when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She watched in almost disbelief as Colton hoisted himself onto the first rung of the ladder like it was nothing, like it was his intention all along. "What are you doing?" she asked. The question came out quiet, like a whisper lost beneath the sound of his feet on the wood and the stirrings that echoed throughout the arena. Her gaze flitted between his calloused palm extended toward her in earnest, and the warmth that remained a constant behind his eyes. He had helped her with most of her other obstacles, sure, but this was different. This wasn’t a boost or a cheerleader on the sidelines. He intended to climb alongside her, every step of the way. Something about that made her stomach flip and a strange weight settled in her chest that she didn’t know how to name.
She drew in a deep breath, weighing her choices—as if she was going to turn down his assistance—before inevitably raising her hand and slowly slipping her fingers along the warm, rough skin of his open palm. "You’re going to ruin men for me," Blair mused up at him as her fingers curled around his hand. Using her strength, but mostly his—it’s not like she could really compare with those muscles—she climbed up to the first rung, standing beside him as her arm gripped tightly to the next highest log. "I might need to cap how often you’re allowed to be charming." Her laugh was breathy and tired, but there was a warmth that lived beneath it, persistent like embers of a fire that refused to be extinguished. "... So I don’t swoon."
Colton’s smile turned impossibly brighter the second her fingers slid into his palm, like the simple act of her trusting him was enough to light something up inside his chest. He steadied her without effort, muscles flexing as he helped hoist her up beside him, careful and sure, as though she were something precious rather than heavy. Her words, ruin men for me, hit him like a spark, and he choked on a laugh, bright and open, the sound echoing softly against the wood and sky.
“I’m not tryin’ to make you swoon,” he promised, eyes crinkling at the corners, warmth spilling out of him with every syllable. “I’m just… being genuine.” He hesitated only a beat, grin softening into something more earnest. “But honestly? If men don’t treat you with this kind of respect, they ought to be ruined for you anyhow.” The words came so naturally, so plainly, like truth didn’t require polishing.
"Gods, that means I’ll be single forever," she mused with a quiet laugh as she tilted her head back to look up at the remainder of the ladder that stretched above them.
A soft hum sung from behind Blair’s closed lips as she weighed his words. While her expression shifted to something more somber, her smile still clung persistently to the curled corners of her mouth, unrelenting as it lingered. "To be fair, I haven’t always been the most deserving of respect." There was some validity in the perspective that respect was earned, and given her history, she couldn’t blame people for not respecting her. It came with the territory. Plus, how much respect could she really expect from others when she rarely gave it to herself? She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts while her own bright smile slowly returned, a little forced but no less warm.
Colton shook his head immediately, the motion gentle but certain, like he couldn’t let that thought take root between them. “No,” he said softly, with a kind of quiet conviction that didn’t ask permission. “Even if you felt like you didn’t deserve it… that says more about the men who treated you without respect than it ever could about you.” His voice warmed on the truth, earnest as sunlight. “Respect ain’t some prize you earn by being perfect. It’s the bare minimum. And anyone who couldn’t give you that… well, that’s on them.”
Blair laughed quietly with a shake of her head. She wasn’t going to argue, not in the middle of climbing the world’s most annoying ladder, and not with a man who could hardly handle hearing her call herself a slut. He had his southern ideals, charm, respect, the whole nine yards. While she was a product of a spoiled life in the city. It was a difference so stark that she could understand why Colton struggled to accept it. Or perhaps he just saw the best in everyone until proven wrong. In that case it was only a matter of time. "You’re stubborn," she mused, sparing him a sidelong glance before she steeled what strength remained in her weary bones and began pulling herself up to the next log.
He started to climb alongside her, one rung at a time, never rushing ahead, never leaving her behind. He stayed within arm’s reach always, body angled subtly toward her as if he could become a shield against gravity itself. “Easy… just like that,” he murmured, voice steady as a hand at her back, pacing himself to match her movements instead of his own strength. Each time she shifted, he shifted too, ready to catch, ready to brace, ready to help without making her feel small.
Blair climbed slowly, steadily, but with a little more confidence knowing that Colton was keeping pace beside her. She didn’t really know if he could do much to keep her from falling, but the false sense of security gave her the last bit of push she needed to muscle through the obstacle. She was so focused on taking one rung at a time that when he spoke, his words that were meant to be encouraging landed differently. Her mind—traitorous little thing—wandered… toward thoughts that were not uncommon for Blair, but ones that didn’t need to be plaguing her as she tried to climb a splintering log ladder dozens of feet above the ground. She imagined those words whispered in soft dimness, muffled beneath silk and flesh and—Oh my fucking god.
Her brows tugged together, creasing her forehead. "Huh?" The confused sound of disbelief slipped out before she could stop it. Then her foot flipped. Her arms clung tightly to the log in front of her, snapping her eyes shut as she pressed her chin against the wood. Blair laughed, shaky and uneasy like her footing, reluctant to look over at him as she tried to get a grip… because Gods know she needed to.
Colton’s body moved before his mind could catch up, instinct sharp and immediate the moment her balance faltered. He shifted down a rung in one smooth motion, closing the small distance between them so he wasn’t hovering above her but beside her, solid and present. One hand stayed clamped around the log to keep himself anchored, knuckles whitening briefly with the force of it, while the other pressed firmly to the middle of her back—steady, supportive, unmistakably there. The contact wasn’t hesitant, it was protective, like his muscles had decided for him that she wasn’t allowed to tip backward into empty air. His breath left him in a quick exhale, relief and alarm tangled together.
“Whoa,” he said, voice light but edged with something real underneath, a careful attempt at humor to keep panic from blooming. “Don’t scare me like that.” His thumb rubbed a small, comforting trail along her back, slow and grounding, as though he could soothe the wobble right out of her bones. He leaned closer just enough to see her face, brows drawn with concern, eyes searching.
“You alright?” he asked gently, confusion flickering across his expression. “Are you dizzy? Or… scared of heights?” The questions came softly, earnest and practical, trying to find the shape of the problem so he could hold it steady for her.
He stayed there, unmoving except for the quiet rhythm of that reassuring touch, his presence a brace against gravity and whatever storm had flickered through her mind. Colton didn’t tease, didn’t assume, didn’t press, only watched her carefully, like she was something fragile balanced on the edge of exhaustion. “Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, voice warm as sunlight through leaves. “We can slow down, we can go faster. We can stop. I’ve got you.” And he meant it with the simple certainty of someone who didn’t know how to offer anything less.
She nodded her head, acknowledging his words and that he was there, with her arms still tightly locked around the log. But Blair didn’t look at him, not right away. Her attention was focused on ignoring the warm tingling that radiated from where his hand rested against the bare skin of her back. She had a problem and while she might have been able to reach that conclusion a year ago, now that she was trying to be good it felt like everything around her was amplified. It was a cruel twist of fate. Blair from two days ago would have been trying to get the sexy cowboy naked and in her bed as fast as possible… but, friends. He wanted a friend, she agreed to friends. And Gods know she was trying. But then he had to be all charming and chivalrous and book boyfriend coded and… fuck, she was getting a headache from spinning in circles.
Blair let out a heavy sigh that almost sounded like a groan as her head tipped forward and her forehead slumped against the log with a thud that was a little harder than intended. "Ow," she muttered into the narrow space between her face and the wood, but didn’t lift her head. "I can’t stop," she conceded before drawing in a deep breath. They had already started and she didn’t want to live on that ladder, but she was also so close to the end that all she really wanted was to be over it and shoulders deep in a bubble bath so hot it’d melt away the aches.
She finally peeled her head from the rough wood. Small splinters and specks of dirt clung to her skin, but she hardly cared or noticed at that point. She looked over at Colton with a tired absolution behind her dark brown eyes, unable to fight the small smile that took hold at the sight of his own warmth and concern that he didn’t owe her, but still gave freely. "I just slipped. It’s fine… I’m fine." A lie, or partly. He didn’t need to know the true depths of her sex addled mind. "Thank you… again." Her smile softened, weightened down but her inability to get through a single fucking obstacle without help. She truly was useless.
"At this rate, I think I’ll owe you for the rest of my life." Blair nodded her head, accepting her fate before getting a solid hold of the log and started climbing once again. She kept her breathing steady, or as steady as she could, focusing on her grip as she moved her feet, then focusing on her footing when she shifted her hold. And she tried very very hard not to listen to Colton’s quiet praise with every successful ascension. Don’t get her wrong, Blair loved praise… in more ways than one, but he was hot and distracting and it was almost more frustratingly distracting that he had no clue he was doing it. So she just focused on climbing.
When Blair reached the top she was tempted to stop, sit down, and catch her breath, but knowing she was halfway done gave her the drive to keep going, as much as it was tempting to let herself wither away and die up there. Of course, she found the climb down to somehow be far more challenging. It felt like every time she lowered her feet to the next log they slipped or missed the rung entirely. Her arms were starting to tremble from the strain of supporting herself through each misstep and her breathing grew heavy and labored. Halfway down, she had no choice but to stop, if only to give her arms a break. She lowered herself precariously to sit on the log and rest her back against one of the side supports. Her head lulled back against the wood, closing her eyes as her chest continued to heave, unable to steady her breathing.
Colton stayed quiet while she rested, though it cost him something to do so. His gaze didn’t wander, didn’t fidget, he kept it steady on her, tracking the rise and fall of her chest, the tremor in her arms, the way exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. He wanted to say something, to ease it, to lift the weight off her shoulders the way he’d lifted her from the water. But it was clear she needed the silence more than she needed encouragement. So he gave it to her. Just his presence. Just the steady nearness of someone who wasn’t going anywhere.
When she started moving again, he followed without comment, matching her descent rung for rung. His praise quieted now, trimmed down to small murmured words that barely disturbed the air between them. He watched her carefully, aware now that even kindness could become a distraction if laid on too thick. When she finally paused halfway down and lowered herself to sit, he descended the last bit to settle beside her. Close enough that their legs brushed. Close enough that he was there if she needed him. Not close enough to crowd.
After a beat, he spoke.
“I have two younger sisters,” he said, tone easy, almost conversational, like he was offering her a story instead of a lecture. He glanced at her with a lopsided little smile, fondness already curling at the edges of it. “One of ‘em’s pretty tough. Likes to go fishin’, shoot guns, fight anybody who so much as looks at her or her sister wrong.” A soft huff of laughter escaped him. “She got in trouble a few months back for throwin’ crab apples at passin’ cars. Managed to toss one clean through an open window, hit some man’s kid right in the head with it.” His brows lifted slightly. “Kid was fine. He was eatin’ the apple in the backseat. But the dad pulled over and started yellin’ at her… so she threw another crab apple at him for yellin’.” He shook his head, smile gentler now. “She’s a menace.”
He shifted slightly against the wood, letting the warmth of the memory soften his voice. “My other sister though… She's too prim, too proper for any of that. If she’d come to camp and River told her to run this course?” He gave a quiet snort. “She’d probably tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine before packin’ her bags and headin’ home.” He nudged Blair’s shoulder lightly, just enough to pull her attention back toward him, eyes warm and steady. “Point is… they’re real different. But they’re both strong in their own ways.”
His expression shifted then, softer, more earnest. “Even if you’d failed,” he continued gently, “Even if you’d accepted help the whole way up… you still did it. You climbed it. You showed up.” His gaze held hers, unwavering. “You seem like the kinda girl who’s hard on herself for no good reason.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth again. “Give yourself some credit, Blair. Not everybody keeps goin’ when it’d be easier to quit.”
Blair assumed he would have continued on or perhaps dragged her along, but the settling of his weight on the log beside her and the light touch of his leg against hers drew her attention. She slowly lifted her head—which felt like lead, having to hold it up on her own once again—and opened her eyes to look over at Colton, who rested beside her. When he began talking about his sisters, she settled more where she sat, letting her breathing ease, and the trembling ache in her muscles subside, if only slightly. She studied his face as he spoke: the golden stumble that shaded his jaw, the soft green of his eyes like grass on the cusp of autumn, and the fondness that painted his ever present smile at the mention of his siblings. There was the warmth and light that burned bright and unapologetic behind his features like it was woven into his very DNA, like Colton didn’t know how to exist in any other form but to be a beacon and safe haven for others.
A tired smile crept across her lips as she listened to his stories, naively assuming he was just trying to fill the silence as she regained her strength. But then he gave her a gentle nudge that pulled her gaze up to his eyes as he revealed the lesson hidden beneath his own quaint farmboy paraboles. Blair laughed softly, tucking loose hair behind her ears with a quiet sigh. "There are some good reasons," she mused as a sad guilt tinged her smile.
She sucked in a sharp breath as she pushed off her thighs, shifting to sit more upright and beside Colton. Her gaze followed the obstacle course, across pools of water and along ropes back toward the stands where she caught a glimpse of River and Anissa. "I would love to tell River to stick it, but my friend kind of has the hots for him." Her hands fell to rest against the rough wood on either side of her, accidentally brushing Colton's leg in the process. The brief touch drew her attention for a second and she muttered an apology, but didn’t sacrifice the stability her hold on the log gave her. "And as much as I hate all of this… I have a new understanding for its necessity after Pandora’s box." Blair’s brows tugged together as she swung her legs idly. "Nearly dying has a way of changing your perspective on things."
With that, she drew in one last deep breath before slipping her weight off the log and slowly started lowering herself down to the next rung. Once her feet found purchase, she pivoted to wrap her arms around the beam where she had just been sitting. She squinted as she looked up at him with a smile that was all playful determination. "If I’m going to die at this Gods forsaken camp, it should at least be cool… like monsters or in battle or something." Blair leaned back slightly, looking down over her shoulder to see just how far she had left to descend. "Not to this damn ladder. I refuse." Her laugh was breathy and weak, but filled with perseverance as she flashed him a quick wink before lowering herself down another log.
Colton listened without interrupting, his expression softening in ways he didn’t quite realize were visible. He knew what she meant, about near-death experiences, about perspective shifting so violently it left the world looking unfamiliar afterward. The house fire had carved something into him too, something permanent and wordless, a quiet before-and-after that he still didn’t have language for. He didn’t offer that up, didn’t turn the moment toward himself. He just nodded, eyes steady, understanding living there without spectacle.
“On a battlefield with monsters,” he repeated, a low chuckle warming the words as they left him. “Yeah… I suppose that’d be a pretty cool way to go. Lot better than via obstacle course trainin’.” His grin widened at her wink, and the flush that rose to his cheeks caught him off guard, heat blooming suddenly and bright beneath the golden stubble of his jaw. He watched her lower herself down with that stubborn determination, admiration flickering across his face before he followed without hesitation. Close behind. Not hovering. Just there, matching her pace, ready if she needed him, like it was the most natural place in the world to be.
Her descent was slower than the climb, less sure footed, and tired. But her last reserves of energy and her stubbornness that never wavered, she eventually reached the final rung. Abandoning form, Blair let herself drop the last handful of feet to the ground. Her landing was clumsy and her knees gave out from the force, but she didn’t care. She landed with a soft thud and oof as she went ass first right down in the dirt like a toddler learning to walk that tipped backwards onto their backside. But rather than being frustrated or embarrassed she fell at the end, she only smiled and let out a relieved sigh knowing that all she had left was one single god damn hurdle. Then she was free.
Colton followed her down at a careful pace, feet finding each rung with quiet certainty until the ground rose up to meet him. He landed steady where she landed scattered, knees bending easily to absorb the drop before straightening again. The moment her legs gave out and she tipped backward into the dirt, he instinctively stepped forward, hand half-extended to catch her, only to pause when he saw the smile spreading across her face. It wasn’t frustration or embarrassment that met the fall, but relief. Pure, unfiltered relief. And something about that, about the stubborn girl who had fought every rung and still found it in herself to smile at the end, warmed his chest in a way that felt almost proud.
He crouched down in front of her, the grin he offered soft and bright, like sunlight breaking through after a long stretch of clouds. “Need help up?” he asked gently, one brow lifting in playful question, “Or do you want a breather before we tackle that last little jump?” His voice carried no impatience, only that steady, uncomplicated support that had followed her from the first obstacle to the last. There was a quiet pride in his tone, not loud enough to embarrass her, but present all the same—an acknowledgment of how far she’d come on tired legs and sheer willpower.
Blair’s smile grew just a fraction as she slipped her tired, trembling fingers into his palms before they were offered, silently accepting his help one last time. "No way," she replied to his second question with a quiet laugh that was muffled beneath her weary and heavy breaths. Then, before she could think better of it, her grasp tightened around his hands, using what strength she had left to half pull herself to her feet, letting him make up the difference. Her gaze fell to their hands, for just a second, studying the contrasts between the two. One pair was larger, stronger, sun-kissed and calloused from years of hard work. While the others were small, dainty, olive toned, manicured and soft like velvet, the stark reality of a girl with a privileged life who never lifted a finger a day in her life. It was something that, in the past, she would have been proud of it, flaunted it even. But at a place like that, it only felt like another reason she didn’t quite belong.
Before her thoughts could drift too far, she cleared her throat and shook her head. She gave his fingers a playful squeeze, then let her hands slip from his grasp and fall to her sides. "Just one left. Then I can die," she teased as she stepped around him and started making her way toward the final obstacle.
Blair’s legs felt like noodles, like she was walking on top of jello not solid earth. Her exhaustion was no longer psychological, but deep seeded, rooting itself in her nerves and joints so fiercely that she wondered if she’d ever feel normal again. It was almost terrible enough that she momentarily considered making a workout regimen… almost. She reached the hurdle without ceremony or pomp, just the last singular shred of willpower and determination she had left. She didn’t run or jump. There was no way she had enough energy for that. She simply shifted to the tips of her toes like she was wearing her favorite pair of heels, swung one leg over the obstacle, letting her foot settle in the puddle without a care, then pulled her other leg over. With the quiet splash of her second foot settling into the shallow water… she was done.
Her body nearly gave out. She felt it like a tremor in her knees and the way the air left her lungs in a wheeze, like it too wanted to get out of that arena as fast as possible. She didn’t move from where she stood in the puddle, she couldn’t. Blair hunched over, bracing her hands against her unsteady knees, hanging her head in a mix of exhaustion, resolve, and frayed pride. She had pushed herself more than she thought possible to reach the finish line that it now felt like an additional obstacle to leave. Honestly it was pathetic how useless and out of shape she was. Why in the hell was she in a place like that? She sucked in a sharp breath. "Fuck that was horrible."
Colton grinned when she teased about dying, shaking his head at her dramatics like he’d already grown fond of them. There was something endearing about the way she made catastrophe sound theatrical instead of tragic, like she refused to let anything steal her humor outright. He followed her without hesitation, shoes splashing right over the hurdle instead of attempting any clean leap. There was no grace in it, just a solid step, a careless slosh, water soaking into his laces, but elegance didn’t matter. What mattered was that she’d finished.
A quiet relief loosened something in his chest as he watched her bend forward, bracing herself against trembling knees. Not relief for himself, he probably could’ve run the course again if someone dared him, but for her. She looked wrung out, like the last ounce of stubborn pride had been spent dragging her across that final line. There were other things he could’ve been doing, checking in at his cabin, sorting through whatever responsibilities waited, but none of them felt more pressing than the way she swayed slightly in that shallow water.
He stepped closer without making a show of it and laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, firm but gentle, like he was anchoring her without trapping her. “You alright?” he asked softly, concern plain in his voice. “You look like a strong wind could knock you over.” His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle against her shoulder blade, grounding and warm.
“C’mon,” he added gently, already angling his body to support her if she leaned. “Let’s get you outta the water. Should I carry you? I don’t mind.” And he didn’t, there wasn’t a hint of teasing in the offer, only genuine worry that if he let her stand there too long, she might crumple back into the puddle at his feet.
Blair blew out a deep breath before pushing water and sweat dampened hair back out of her face as she slowly stood upright. As much as she wanted to be strong and independent, she could feel her body swaying and leaned into his support, albeit a bit reluctantly. She flashed him an incredulous look, all pursed lips and furrowed brows, as she looked up at him. "Calm down, Prince Charming, " she teased through the exhaustion that stole the wind from her lungs and lightly patted his chest with the back of her hand.
"I don’t think my pride could handle the embarrassment of having to be carried." Even so, her smile grew, just a fraction, as she humored the thought of being literally swept off her feet and carried around in front of half of camp. If she hadn’t already made a fool of herself that day she might have actually considered it, if only for the envious glares, the pleasure of being spoiled… and the muscles. "...As much as the Princess treatment from a devishily handsome cowboy sounds like something straight out of a romance novel."
While she didn’t let Colton carry her, Blair had leaned on him so much throughout the course that she wasn’t going to deny his help now. She lifted her arm, lightly bracing it on top of his with her hand gripping his shoulder. Her legs felt like they might give out with every shift, but she let him be her crutch, supporting her weight whenever she couldn’t. After all, he offered to carry her… If he could carry her and catch her falling from a rope, she imagined it wouldn't take much effort to help her stay upright on her own two legs. She took her time climbing out of the shallow pool, thankful that it was only a couple inches deep so it was little more than stepping up onto a curb.
Her fingers adjusted their hold on his shoulder as she spared him a sidelong glance. "If you wouldn’t mind helping me to my seat—" her free hand rose, pointing to the nearly empty stands where her jacket lay against a lone bench. "—Then you’re free of babysitting duty for the rest of the day." Blair chuckled under her breath, poking fun at her own expense as she often did. She already felt bad stealing far too much of his time. Aside from nipple boy and Anissa, there were only a couple other stragglers. Colton could have been eating lunch or napping or subjecting a more suitable girl to his charming wiles. She was grateful for his help, but mostly felt guilty for needing it in the first place. Even if that seemed like the exact place he wanted to be, she had a hard time believing it. It just wasn’t something people did where she’s from.
Colton let out a soft huff of laughter at her calling him Prince Charming, the title landing somewhere between amusement and fluster. A faint flush crept up along the bridge of his nose and into his cheeks when she added devilishly handsome cowboy, and for a second he looked almost boyish about it, like he hadn’t quite learned how to carry compliments without tripping over them. “I’ll try not to let the crown go to my head,” he murmured lightly, though the warmth in his voice gave him away. His hand stayed steady at her back, guiding rather than gripping, unbothered by the weight she leaned into him. “I’m happy to help,” he added simply, smiling softly as he glanced down at her.
He moved with her at her pace, adjusting his stride so she didn’t have to, letting her arm rest comfortably over his while his hand hovered near her waist in case she wobbled again. There was no strain in him, no sigh of inconvenience, only a quiet attentiveness that felt instinctive. When she mentioned babysitting duty, he shook his head faintly. “I don’t see it like that,” he said gently. “We’re friends now.” The word friends settled easily between them, uncomplicated and sincere, and whose statement landed with a softness only someone who was genuinely a decent person could manage.
As they neared the stands, he shrugged one shoulder, casual and honest. “All I’ve really got waitin’ on me is unpackin’ my stuff and gettin’ familiar with my cabin,” he admitted. “Chores, basically.” His smile broadened just a touch, eyes flicking toward her with an easy glint of humor. “Helpin’ a beautiful woman’s a much better way to spend my time than foldin’ laundry. Do you want help walking back to your cabin?”
He didn’t seem to realize how the words landed, how naturally the flirtation threaded through them. To him, it was a simple truth, offered the same way he offered his hand. And as he helped her up the last step toward her seat, he stayed close until she was steady, content to remain exactly where he was.
Blair laughed softly at his compliment as she carefully took one step at a time. She knew she likely looked like death, she didn’t need a mirror for that, but she also didn’t argue having quickly learned just how stubborn he could be about insisting the best out of people. So she let it settle quietly without contradiction or playfully drawing attention to it. However she did roll her eyes at the mention of chores, scoffed even. "You can’t spend all your time locked away in your cabin. Pretty face like yours—" she raised her hand that rested on his shoulder to poke his cheek lightly, before letting it fall and resume its grip. "—should be shared with the less fortunate." She chuckled and shook her head at her own dumb joke. The exhaustion was definitely getting to her head. "A sweet guy like you deserves all the friends. You can’t make those in a cabin."
Their pace slowed as they stopped before the bench where her jacket was strewn like a discarded relic. Her gaze fell to the empty space beside it where her brother sat at one point. Lochlan didn’t stay to offer his support, much like he left her to stumble back to her cabin last night practically incoherent. It all sat uneasily on her stomach, especially when it was him that egged her on to drink in the first place. Her free hand rose to pinch the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Just the thought of it gave her a headache… She could dwell on it later. Whatever. Fuck him.
She didn’t let go, not yet, instead adjusting how she stood while still relying on the stability of his support. Her smile returned slowly, weighed down at the edges but still warm, and could be easily played off as fatigue or what have you. Blair slowly looked up at him while giving his shoulder a gentle pat. "I managed to stumble back to my cabin alone, and entirely too drunk last night… I think I’ll manage."
Blair went to take her seat, nearly slipping out of his hold when she paused. Her brows tugged together as she glanced back up at him. She shifted up onto her tip toes—a dumb decision that immediately made her calves burn and legs shake—then leaned in and gave him a small kiss to the cheek. It wasn’t romantic or flirty, just another way to show her gratitude in the only way she knew how. "Thanks again, Colton." Her words were quiet and sincere, without the usual playful lilt that laced her tone. She didn’t really know how to express what it meant for a stranger—now friend—to drop everything to help her when no one else did. It was small to him, but the gesture was monumental to a woman who had felt lost and lonely and like a shadow of the person she had been since arriving at that miserable fucking camp. His kindness made her smile without the need to be seen as an object or the assistance of alcohol.
With a satisfied nod of her head, Blair finally lowered herself on the bench beside her jacket, letting out a deep sigh of relief when she no longer had to support her own weight. "There’s stables, you know?" she commented, resting her hands in her lap as she looked up at him. "I imagine a cowboy like you probably loves horses." She tried her best not to let her thoughts wander to her time in the stables as she pointed toward the Southern exit of the arena. "I’m sure a piece of home might help you settle better than chores and unpacking would." She grabbed her coat and draped it across her lap, settling into her seat a bit more rather than rushing to the exit. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to rest for a bit, then I’ll be right as rain to go enjoy that bath I promised myself." Her smile brightened, just a fraction, just enough to give him the reassurance he needed to go and enjoy his day without stressing himself over her well being.
For a fleeting second, the world seemed to still.
The press of her lips against his cheek was light, gone almost as soon as it arrived—but the warmth lingered, blooming across his skin and sinking somewhere deeper than he expected. A flush crept up beneath the sun-touched gold of his face, heat settling along his cheekbones as his breath caught in a way he hoped she didn’t notice. Colton blinked once, steadying himself, smoothing his expression into something calm and easy despite the sudden thrum in his chest. He offered her a soft smile, as though nothing had shifted at all, even if his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he felt a little dizzy.
Colton took a steadying breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his face, and trying to hide how flustered he was by focusing on the idea of the stables, the tired lines of concern for her making it back on her own, the flustered feelings from the soft kiss, all eased into something brighter, softer, familiar. The idea of horses settled into him like a memory of home, warm and grounding, but his gaze lingered on her a moment longer, weighing whether it felt right to leave. “If you’re sure,” he said after a brief pause, tone gentle, deciding not to press further. His smile was small but sincere, careful not to tip into worry. “I’ll catch you later then… just make sure you get home safe.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m in cabin twenty-eight, if you need anything.”
With one last glance to be certain she was settled, he stepped back and made his way toward his own seat, retrieving his jacket from where he’d left it. The fabric felt heavier now, not with weight but with the quiet shift of the day, how it had started as training and somehow turned into something more meaningful. He slung it over his shoulder, pausing only long enough to throw a final wave in Blair’s direction, his grin easy and warm before turning toward the arena’s exit.
As he stepped out into the open air, a low hum slipped from his lips without thought, some half-remembered tune carried on habit. The idea of the stables tugged at him, but the grime and sweat of the course clung stubbornly to his skin. A quick shower first, he decided, clean up, change, then find the horses. The thought steadied him as he walked, the promise of something familiar waiting on the other side of the day.
Collab pt. 3/3
