by K. A. Tucker
My ex looks the same—clean-cut brown hair, lean build, head-to-toe Patagonia gear—but the dark circles under his eyes are new.
“Good, good. Actually, I’m great.” He gestures at the plump baby watching us, as if presenting an artifact. “Meet Clancy. My son. Our son,” he quickly corrects, turning toward the woman. “This is my fiancée Carrie. This is Marie.” Nothing else. Just Marie.
“Nice to meet you.” I nod toward the petite, dark-haired woman. I’m sure she’s heard plenty of stories about me. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she says, holding up a pacifier in the air. “Found it!” The diamond engagement ring catches my attention. It’s far bigger than the one I handed back to him.
“Oh, thank God.” Jonathan rubs his forehead. To me, he explains, “We’re heading up to Talkeetna for the day, and Clancy screams in the car when he doesn’t have it.”
“He looks happy enough right now.” I smile at the boy, and I get a toothless smile in return. “How old is he?”
“Almost three months?” He looks to Carrie for confirmation.
“Four,” she corrects sternly.
“Right. Holy. I can’t keep track anymore.” Jonathan chuckles, massaging the back of his neck. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. “Between our son being born, and work taking off, and the upcoming wedding, the days are flying by. But all amazing things. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I’m sure it’s not a dig at me, and yet I feel the shovel blade hit my back all the same.
Healthy baby, check.
Happy spouse, check.
Blooming career, check.
All things Marie doesn’t have. Check, check.
Not that he would know that last part.
But would this have been Jonathan and I, had I stayed? Had I settled?
It’s a discombobulating feeling—to stand across from a person who once knew your most intimate secrets and now is virtually a stranger with an entirely new life of his own.
“What’s new with you, Marie? Still doin’ the vet thing?”
“Still doing the vet thing.”
“And where are you living now?”
“Same place.”
His eyebrows arch. “With your parents?”
There’s no mistaking the judgment in that tone. “In the cabin on the property,” I correct with a shrug. “It’s easy.”
“Yeah. Of course. I just thought you’d be, I don’t know …” He lets that thought go unfinished. Maybe he truly doesn’t know, or maybe he’s just playing dumb. “And you’re here, grabbing coffee for you and—” His eyes tally the cups in my hand and then searches the vicinity. I know the moment he sees Jonah, recognizes him, because his jaw tenses.
“Coffee for me and tea for Jonah’s wife,” I say, because I know where his assumption is headed, and I have no desire to hurt him more than I already did.
When we split up, I made the mistake of being too honest with Jonathan about my feelings for the bush pilot. The truth that we weren’t meant for each other fell by the wayside as Jonathan railed. First came the accusations of infidelity, and then the promises that I’d regret throwing away our future over a crush. And even with his son staring up at him and his soon-to-be wife listening intently, I can see Jonathan’s ego still feels that sting.
“His wife,” he repeats, and there’s a moment of confusion, followed by understanding that suggests he hadn’t heard.
But the smug little smile that touches his lips? That makes me wish I’d let him stew in false assumptions.
This was the last encounter I needed today when I’ve already been feeling so low.
“Just the person I was looking for,” a familiar deep voice announces behind me.
I spin around to find Tyler strolling toward me, his uniform hugging his perfect form, his park ranger vehicle rumbling, the driver’s side door propped open.
God, he looks good. But …
Jonathan.
Jonah.
Tyler.
All in one parking lot.
“I’m in the twilight zone,” I mutter.
Tyler tilts his head.
“Nothing,” I say before he has a chance to ask. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up a coffee, as if that’s explanation enough, and then takes a few casual steps closer, just within my personal space, and drops his voice to a whisper. “And you look like you might be stuck in something you’d rather not be stuck in. Am I right about that?” Gentle eyes search mine.
He was the truck that pulled in behind me. I never bothered to look back. He must’ve seen me falter, must’ve read the tension in my body. Am I that obvious? Or is he that perceptive? He is in law enforcement, after all, trained to spot conflict.
Can he see me at war with myself?
I feel my head bobbing without much thought.
Tyler slips his free hand around my waist. I feel the warmth of it through my jacket. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal this one away.”
He’s saving me. That’s what he’s doing.
I turn back toward Jonathan, watching curiously. Maybe it’s rude to not introduce them, but I have no reason to. Jonathan is part of my past, and Tyler is … well, Tyler is just a client, but Jonathan doesn’t know that. “It was good seeing you. Enjoy your day up in Talkeetna. And congratulations again on everything.”
Clancy lets out a screech that has Carrie darting around the picnic table, aiming the soother toward his mouth like a plug to stop a leak.
I allow myself a breath of relief as Tyler guides me away. Only where my stomach was coiling with discomfort before, now it’s full of nervous flutters, the faint scent of cologne with notes of cedar and citrus peel drawing me in closer. “Thank you.”
But Tyler doesn’t answer, his gaze hanging off Jonathan and his crying son.
On his son.
My heart pangs for this man as I see the pain in his stony expression as clearly as if it were written on a page. How often does Tyler see his unborn child in the faces of these living ones? How often does he wonder how different his life would have been, had they survived?
“Tyler?” I call out softly. His hand is still curled around my waist.
He snaps out of whatever trance he was in with a sharp inhale. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I repeat.
He slides his arm away from me. “What are friends for?” He mock frowns. “Oh, wait …”
He’s back to his casual charming self, but I just caught a hint of what’s hidden beneath the facade. “Were you actually looking for me? Is there something wrong with the dogs?” It’s been two weeks since I visited his kennel.
“Nah. Dogs are all good. I saw you there and you seemed anxious.” His eyes drift over my frame. “Your body language was off.”
“You’re an expert with body language?”
“With some things.” He hides a smile behind a sip of his coffee.
We’re heading back down this dangerous path again—where Tyler flirts shamelessly and I read too much into it, where I let false hope trick me into believing something that isn’t true.
“Who’s that guy?” he asks, nodding toward Jonathan.
“My ex.”
“Serious?”
“Five years.” I hesitate. “We were engaged.”
He shifts his focus from Jonathan to Carrie to Clancy, as if itemizing possibilities. “What happened?”
“It wasn’t meant to be. Long story.” I check Jonah. He’s still gabbing. “You’re a bit out of the way for Hatcher Pass, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been working at Nancy Lake this week.”
“Anything exciting?” I find myself desperate to change topics, to keep this casual conversation going. It feels good to be with Tyler. When I’m with him, I’m not thinking about anything else.
“Besides the family of tourists who thought bear repellent worked the same as mosquito repellent and sprayed it all over themselves?”
An unexpected burst of laughter e
scapes.
“You like that one, huh?” Tyler grins. “It’s not as good as the naked couple I found hiding in the trees yesterday.”
My jaw drops. “You’re lying!”
“Swear to God.” He presses his free hand over his vest where his heart resides, under a thick pad of muscle. “They were camping and decided to go skinny-dipping in one of the lakes in the afternoon. When they got out of the water, their clothes were gone. Went back to their campground and everything there was gone too. They were trying to get to their car when I came across them.”
“Naked and afraid.”
He chuckles. “She had a few well-positioned tree branches but kept dropping them to swat at the mosquitoes. Man, that was a long, uncomfortable walk back to my truck for everyone.”
If I had a free hand, it would be covering my hanging jaw. I’m not sure which would be worse—darting through the mosquito-infested forest bare-assed or being found that way by this man. My cheeks flush with the thought. “Did you figure out who stole their things?”
“The woman seemed convinced his girlfriend had something to do with it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. If it was, I say good for her.” He takes a long sip of his coffee.
I’m momentarily caught on his mouth and his jaw, and the way his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow. But mostly, I’m caught on how much I like being near Tyler.
He flashes another smile, this one showing off deep dimples, and a look that says he can somehow read my thoughts.
“Sorry ’bout that. Once you get Sam talkin’ about his fire boss planes, there’s no stopping him.”
I jump at the sound of Jonah’s deep voice behind me. “Yeah. No worries.”
“Aw, man. You did not.” He grimaces when he takes in the paper tray of biscuits and gravy. “How do you eat that stuff? It looks like cat vomit.”
Exactly the reaction I knew I’d get from Jonah. “Cold cat vomit now, thanks to you.”
He shakes his head with disgust, then points at the tray of drinks in my hand. “That’s dairy-free, right? ’Cause Calla will murder me in my sleep if it’s not.”
I’m about to say yes when Tyler cuts in. “Hey, you were flying dogs out of White Mountain back in March, weren’t you?”
“Dogs, straw, HEET, kibble, pork belly, you name it. She roped me in.” He jerks his chin toward me.
“This is Tyler Brady,” I introduce.
Jonah frowns as recognition slips in. “You won this year, didn’t you?” He sticks his hand out. “Congratulations. Good to see you, man.”
“I didn’t know you and Marie were friends. What’s that like? Did you have to fill out an application? Go for an interview?” Tyler is talking to Jonah, but he’s grinning at me. “Did she tell you to fuck off a few times, too, before she gave you a chance?”
I’m shaking my head, but I’m laughing now. And my cheeks are flushed. Again. “Don’t you have more naked people in the woods to rescue?”
“Oh man, I hope not.” His eyes twinkle with laughter.
Jonah watches curiously as if trying to decipher the cryptic joke, before tapping my arm with his elbow. “We better get back with that level before Roy quits on me. He’s on a super short fuse.” His gaze darts between Tyler and me, and I see that look of determination settle into his jaw a second before he says, “Hey, listen, if you’re around tomorrow night, you should come by the Ale House in Trapper’s Crossing.”
What is he doing? “Tyler lives too far away,” I blurt, glaring at my best friend.
“Actually, I don’t mind the drive. You going to be there, Marie?” Tyler is smiling. Is this a challenge? He must be able to sense my panic now as surely as he did earlier from across the lot.
“Yeah, she is,” Jonah answers for me.
“Then maybe I’ll make an appearance. Cheers.” He holds up his paper cup, the blue ink paw prints almost comical in his large hand, and then heads back to his pickup.
The second we’re in Jonah’s truck, he turns in his seat to declare, “You hooked up with that guy.”
“I didn’t!” I falter. “Not exactly. It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into it. And why did you invite him to the Ale House?” My hands free of the coffee tray, I smack his arm.
“I was tryin’ to help you out! Come on, you two wanna jump each other.”
“We don’t.”
“Yeah. Bullshit,” he scoffs, cranking his engine. “I may be an idiot about a lot of things, but I can tell when two people are into each other.”
“We’re not. Or he’s not. Believe me, he couldn’t have been clearer.”
Jonah cocks his head, waiting for an explanation.
He is not going to relent. “His wife died giving birth to his son. They both died.” I watch the green-and-white ranger pickup truck sit at the main road, the little light blinking as Tyler waits to make his turn. “He’s not interested in dating anyone.”
Jonah’s face twists. “Christ, Lehr, you’re bringin’ a lot of drama with you today. Poor guy, though. That’s gotta be rough.” He works his fingers through his beard in thought. “So, you wait. Get to know him. Be friends, and when he’s ready—”
I burst out with mirthless laughter. “And when he’s ready for a relationship, he’ll decide that I’m the one for him? Gee, where have I heard this before?” Oh yeah, that was me, convincing myself of that brilliant plan for years. “No thanks. I’m thirty-eight. You think when he gets over her, he’s not going to be looking for someone younger than him?” Someone who won’t be in her sixties when their child is twenty? If she can even have a child by then? “I don’t have time for the wait-and-see game. I’ve been there, done that, and I am never putting myself through it again.”
The second the words are out, I regret them.
We’ve never openly addressed the elephant in the room. I don’t think Jonah’s ever seen it. At least, I’ve convinced myself of that because it’s easier for my pride that way. But I’ve seen the elephant, stomping around with a trumpet affixed to its trunk, just in case it needed more attention.
Jonah takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself to unload words he was hoping he’d never have to say.
And I’m suddenly terrified that, above all else, I’m about to lose my best friend. That storm, I cannot weather. “Jonah, I—”
“No.” He puts up a hand to stop me. “First off, plenty of women have babies in their forties, so stop thinkin’ that you can’t. And I know things may not have worked out how you saw them going.” He swallows. “But I only ever want to see you as happy as I am with Calla.”
“I truly am so glad you found her. You two are perfect for each other.”
“We are, aren’t we?” He smiles wistfully. “Honestly? I never thought I could be this happy. It’s like she was made just for me.”
I watch the truck pull onto the main road and speed off toward the entrance to Nancy Lake. In another world, I wonder if Tyler might have been made for me.
But in this world, it’s beginning to feel like I’m on my own.
“Hey, you feel like going for a ride tomorrow? Just you and me. Hit up some villages for old times’ sake? Play with some strays?”
I laugh. “Actually, I could use an escape from everything right about now.”
For old times’ sake.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You wanna borrow the cot in the back?”
I cap off my gaping yawn with a laugh. “I might. I’ll let you know.” We left Jonah’s private airstrip at five a.m., the sun already high in a cloudless sky, the day promising to be unseasonably warm. After dropping Calla in Bangor and refueling, Jonah and I took off to a few villages along the river, stopping in to check with locals, as much to say hello to them as to treat their pets. It was nostalgic and therapeutic—and exactly what I needed.
We arrived back in Trapper’s Crossing at six with Agnes and Mabel, giving me just enough time to get home to shower, try on everything in my meager closet, and consider
canceling my appearance tonight.
Toby’s face splits into a wide grin as he slides a bottle of Coors Light across the bar toward me. The sable-brown scruff that coated his jaw during the winter months is long gone, revealing a baby face that looks far younger than his thirty-six years. “Might have to wrestle Rich for it.”
I search out the construction worker—a staple drunk around here—to find him leaning against the wall for support before letting my focus wander. The Ale House’s interior of mismatched tables covered in vinyl clothes, kitschy signs, and dead animals mounted on the walls has enough charm to draw in a crowd on the regular, and it’s filling up tonight, as the aroma of batter, hot oil, and fried fish lingers in the air.
Jonah and Calla are on the other side of the bar, mingling, Jonah’s arm slung over Calla’s shoulders in a way that’s casual and yet protective.
Calla stands out as usual, her caramel-colored hair styled in beachy waves, her makeup impeccable, her simple outfit of jeans and a rich red-plaid shirt looking both effortless and carefully selected.
She catches me staring, and her smile transforms from amused to sympathetic. I don’t know what reason Jonah gave her about my spontaneous tag along today, but since I arrived at their place this morning, she’s been handling me with kid gloves, as if I might burst into tears at any moment.
She holds up her martini glass in a cross-the-room cheers. This place had never seen anything beyond a pint glass and beer bottle before she moved in. Now she has the McGivneys stocking their bar for her drinking tastes, and I doubt she ever asked them to. They just started doing it because they wanted to. It’s a gift to have that kind of influence over people.
I return the gesture before shifting my focus to Agnes and Mabel, standing with them, Agnes’s smile wide while Mabel absorbs the Ale House’s rambunctious crowd with innocent curiosity. It’s a different world here from the life they’re accustomed to in the west, where booze may no longer be outright prohibited in Bangor, but it’s still restricted due to high rates of alcoholism among the villages.
“Haven’t seen it this busy in a while.” I check the clock on the wall. It’s after nine, and there’s still no sign of Tyler.
