She shrugged. “It’s on random,” she said, and went back to focusing her camera through the door space.

My life had been full of moments that burrowed into my soul, the memories crisp and detailed—the smell of the snow as I won X Games medals, the rush of wind skydiving over Madagascar, the taste of her lips the first time I’d ever kissed Rachel. This…sitting next to her halfway across the world as she took pictures, her hair falling from its tie, a smile playing at her lips, the warm morning sun shining through the top, even the music coming through the radio, all imprinted on my memory, and I knew I’d replay it often.

This was what I’d always thought we’d be. Seeing the world together, laughing, fighting, making up, pulling stunts—it was everything we’d talked about, and what I knew we were really meant for.

Hell, sitting next to her, even knowing she’d rather toss me from this Jeep than let me kiss her, was more fulfilling than the last half a dozen girls I’d taken to bed. I just had to find a way to break down her walls somehow and see if there was any part of her heart that could still feel something besides hatred for me.

Because I was still fucking wild over her.

The song switched, Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love” coming on, and she immediately tensed. I started to sing, but through quick side glances I saw her fumble for her phone and skip the song. Halsey’s “Gasoline” came through the speakers, and though it was pretty much a perfect song for Rachel, I turned it down.

“Why did you skip it?” I asked.

She looked my way briefly before putting her camera back to her eye.

“Rachel,” I prompted. “I thought you liked that song.”

Hell, I’d always loved that song because—

“It…” She shook her head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It reminds me too much of you. Of us. I just never took it off.”

Exactly.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Do you do that with everything that reminds you of me? Turn it off? Throw it away?” I asked just loud enough for her to hear me over the road noise.

“Yeah,” she answered, but there was no snark to her voice, no sharp bite. “It was the only way I survived.” She propped her feet up on the dash. “What about you?”

I passed a slower bus and pulled back into our lane, letting the speed take away some of the sting in her words. “No. If it’s on, I let it play. If I see a picture, I look. I learned a long time ago that the only way I could avoid thinking about you would be to shut off my brain or cut out my heart. Since I need both of those to live, I’ve always just dealt with it.” I took a steadying breath. “When did you get it removed? I saw your back in the hallway. I know it’s gone.”

She sucked in her breath like I’d wounded her when, in this particular case, the opposite was true. “When I finally realized you weren’t coming back.”

She turned away, focusing on the rising hills around us, and I knew this line of conversation was done for now.

It was pretty apparent that we’d handled our breakup differently—not that I could blame her. What had happened…what I did, well, it was unforgivable. There was a reason I’d never called her, never tracked her down after she’d blocked me on every form of social media. Rachel had always been one to burn the bridge, salt the earth, generally walk away without looking back, and there was nothing I could say or do that would make up for the past.

But she’s here now.

I held onto that small flame of hope as we made it another hour and a half toward Kitulgala.

She looked up as the first raindrops hit the windshield. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming,” she muttered.

“Storms come in fast off the ocean,” I said, looking for a place to pull over. The outcropping on the right worked just fine, and I brought us to a standstill. “Remember how to do this?” I asked her.

We locked gazes, and a dozen memories assaulted me of when we’d done the same for the Jeep she’d owned back in L.A.

“Yeah, I think I can handle it.” Damn it, her voice was sharp enough to cut again.

We made quick work of pulling the canvas top out of the back and snapping it on. The doors came next.

“I guess it’s been the rainiest fall they’ve had in twenty years or something,” I told her as we climbed back in, both splattered with raindrops.

“Really? We’re going to talk about the weather?”

“Seems the safest topic,” I said as we pulled back onto the road.

Rachel messed around with the defrost until she found a setting that kept the windshield clear. God, I’d missed how well we worked together, how she anticipated every need before it even became one. “That might be true.”

We made the turnoff onto the road that led to the slide site. The road cut so sharply into the steep hill that I was sure Rachel could reach out her window and touch the hillside if she tried.

“So, like I said, they’ve had some pretty torrential rain, so that’s why the slides are epic. The rapids are a bitch, but Pax has everyone suiting up in life vests. I guess the pools between the slides are wicked deep.”

“As long as he keeps Leah safe, that’s all I care about,” she said, looking up the hill.

“She’s his number-one priority right now.”

“I figured that out. Shocked me, honestly, seeing as the Wilder I remembered never saw past his need for an X Games medal.” She leaned forward in her seat, staring up through the windshield.