Nora glanced back toward the rock ceiling, then at the tangled vine and the half-collapsed hammock. The pieces finally clicked into place. “We heard someone running,” she said. “Footsteps. I thought you were being attacked. Or hurt.”
Liam let out a short, embarrassed breath. “Yeah. That was me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I like jumping into the pond from up there—clears the head. I ran across the ledge, dove in, then tried climbing back into the hammock before my balance caught up with me.” He nodded at the snapped vine. “Turns out fermented grapes and knots don’t mix.”