Page 90 of Click of Fate

My breath punches out of me.

Because this…

This isn’t just a snapshot of someone scaling a wall. It’s everything most people never see. The fight to keep going when quitting would be easier. The quiet, desperate hope that the topis worth the fall. The belief, tiny, breakable, but burning, that some things are meant to be fought for.

She saw that.

In me.

Maybe she’s always seen it.

Maybe that's the real danger.

Not the fall. Not the height. But being seen when you didn’t even know you were visible.

My jaw locks, but my hands—tight just moments ago—go slack. Like the fight drained out of me and left something else behind. Wonder. Regret. Hope.

Thunderstorms. Adventure through a lens. Fear of roots... but still dreaming anyway.

Ruth didn’t send me looking for something new tonight. She sent me back to someone I already lost. Unless I’m willing to fight like hell to get her back.

I square my shoulders, because this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And this time...

I'm climbing until I reach her.

Chapter 21

NOW WE LEAP

STELLA

When Ruth calledme last week to photograph tonight’s event, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Not because I was desperate for work, but because I’ve started to realize… I actually like these gigs.

They’re not like the high-adrenaline shoots I built my reputation on. There’s no need to climb rooftops or balance on ledges to catch a moment mid-action. No split-second decisions that might make or break a headline.

This? This is slower. More intentional. And honestly? Kinda lovely.

Ruth mentioned it was a networking event tied to a nonprofit she supports and that HEA was sponsoring. Fancy enough for people to dress nicely, low-key enough that I wouldn’t need to boss anyone around to get the right angle. The setting, ArtHouse Gallery, did most of the work for me. Between the warm lights and eclectic mix of people, it’s been… easy.

Peaceful, even.

Which is maybe why the nerves are hitting harder now.

Because peace doesn’t mix well with unresolved feelings.

Especially when the person you can’t stop thinking about is somewhere in this room and you haven’t talked to him yet.

The buzz of the gallery hums around me with soft conversation, clinking glasses, the low thrum of music in the background. But I’m standing by my camera bag near the back entrance, pretending to reorganize my gear for the fourth time.

Anything to avoid looking for him.

Anything to avoid facing what I already know.

“You planning to move in with that bag, honey?”

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