Under an Alaskan Sky

by Jennifer Snow

  “Maybe it’s not you I’m concerned for. Maybe I’m thinking about Kaia and the fact that she might actually want her mother beyond cards and Skype chats. We’ve really been connecting these last few months and she seems open to that. And I’m thinking about me. For so long I wasn’t able to have a relationship with her. Now I can.” She leaned against the desk and folded her arms across her chest. She was in the driver’s seat and she knew it.

  And how was that fair? He’d been the one raising Kaia all this time and now Montana could simply waltz back into her life full-time? He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could stop it and deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be the right thing.

  “What if she’s not open to it? What if she doesn’t want that? What if the Skype chats are enough—all she’s comfortable with?” The distance and the computer screen between them had given Kaia a safety blanket in dealing with the emotional impact of having her mother in her life... This would be different. Full-on and complicated.

  “I’ll respect her wishes and her pace...but I think we both know she will want that.” She paused, studying him. “I think that’s the part that bothers you the most.”

  She headed toward the door when he didn’t respond. “Look, I’m not in a rush for any of this. I’ve waited this long. I just wanted to let you know my intent. I’ll text you my new address in town. Let this sink in...and we’ll talk in a few days.”

  “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “No.” She opened the door. “The place really does look great. So do you,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

  Tank collapsed onto his sofa and stared at the ceiling.

  In thirty-five years of shitty birthdays, this one was the worst one ever.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN THE LIGHT of day, it looked like a bomb had gone off inside the bar. Deflated balloons, drooping banners, confetti all over the floor, and empty paper plates with half-eaten cake needing to be cleaned up. But at least it gave Cassie an outlet for her anxious energy.

  “His name is Theo. I had no idea.” Cassie stabbed a balloon with her pocket knife.

  The loud sound made Erika jump. “None of us did. Even Reed didn’t know.”

  “I’d like to think...” POP! “That I might rank slightly higher...” Pop! “Than my brother when it comes to Tank’s—oh, excuse me, Theo’s—confidences.” Pop!

  “Okay, give me that,” Erika said, taking the knife from her friend. “You are on banner duty.”

  “I like stabbing things,” Cassie said.

  “Clearly, and I get it and I appreciate that you’re not stabbing Tank right now, but just try not to stress just yet. You haven’t had a chance to talk to him... You don’t know why Montana’s here.”

  “I know exactly why she’s here. She wants her family back.” And damn if Cassie could compete with that. Compete with her. The woman looked like a fitness model. Perfect body, perfect hair, perfect bone structure. Next to Montana, Cassie looked like a child. Classic sophistication oozed from Tank’s ex-girlfriend. Kaia’s mom... Her thirty-second interaction with her had been intimidating.

  Usually so self-assured and confident, Cassie hated these feelings of inadequacy she’d been battling for the last twelve hours. She’d left the party shortly after Tank had rejoined the event, looking devastated and confused. Maybe not the best hostess, but after the kiss they’d shared, followed by the intrusion that was Montana’s arrival, Cassie hadn’t been able to stay any longer. Keeping up a brave front had been impossible.

  Thank God for Erika and Reed taking over and making sure guests had a good time while she’d crawled into bed with Diva, and lain awake all night.

  Erika offered a sympathetic look. “What do you know about their situation? Reed says Tank barely talks about her. She left when Kaia was a baby?”

  Cassie nodded. “All I know is pieced together from fragmented conversations with Tank. He never likes to talk about her or their situation. Getting Tank to open up about anything is a challenge.” She looked around for more balloons to pop, but Erika had taken her knife away. She collapsed onto a stool and lifted her sunglasses up over her hair. Erika wouldn’t judge her puffy eyes.

  “I know they met on a rescue. She was an extreme BASE jumper from Colorado, here teaching a three-month course, and one of her trainees had an accident. Tank and the guys assisted on the rescue and he and Montana...hooked up.” Damn, that was a hard thing to say about the man she was in love with.

  “So, Kaia was the result of their fling?”

  Cassie cringed. “Yes. No... I’m not sure. Tank makes it sound that way, but I think he might have actually been in love with her.”

  “Might explain why he’s reluctant to get into a new relationship.”

  Damn, why did Erika always make so much sense? “That would explain it.” Tank hid behind his concern over Kaia and what a new relationship would do to them and their lifestyle...but maybe a part of him was concerned about what a real relationship, opening himself up, would do to him.

  “Anyway, Montana broke things off and went back to Colorado but then found out she was pregnant. She came back and they tried to make a go of it but then she had an accident just after Kaia was born and she moved back to Denver again. That’s it. I know she sends birthday and Christmas gifts to Kaia...and Tank mentioned that they’ve been chatting more lately.” Cassie paused. “Do you think Kaia invited her mom to come here?”

  Erika shook her head. “I’m sure Kaia would have told you if she did. You two are so close.”

  Tears gathered in Cassie’s eyes and she desperately tried to blink them back. They were close. She was Kaia’s main female role model. The two of them got along great and Kaia was everything to her.

  What happened now that her mother was back? Would Kaia still need Cassie?

  Cassie understood complicated relationships with parents. Her own father had disappeared from their lives when they were teens and his semiregular reappearances through invoices from a rehab clinic were the only real contact she had with him. But she was an adult now. She was able to deal with it, see it for what it was... Kaia was still a child.

  One who would be thrilled to have her mother back.

  Standing, Cassie tore the Happy Birthday banner down from above the bar and folded it. “I just don’t know what to do. Should I question Tank about everything? Or just give him time and space to tell me when he’s ready?”

  “As your friend, I want to tell you to demand answers and get a commitment from him once and for all...but as Tank’s friend too, I think we need to give him a break. For now. I can’t imagine having his ex show up out of the blue is easy for him...”

  “You’re right and besides, forcing Tank to open up will only send him recoiling further.” Cassie tucked the banner into a drawer behind the bar. “I thought we were so close to finally figuring things out.” She wanted to tell Erika about the kiss, but how could she now? This conversation with her best friend should have been a juicy retelling of the best kiss of her life.

  One that had left her breathless and hopeful...

  One she’d probably never experience again.

  That one moment had been incredible. The kiss had been so overdue, but had delivered on all levels. She’d felt the passion and commitment in Tank, even though he was reluctant to verbalize it. She’d sensed the deep connection only best friends acting on attraction could feel. Their bodies had melted into one, setting off metaphorical fireworks all around them. In that moment, everything had been perfect. Before it all went to shit.

  Now she was just left with more questions. So many questions.

  Where had Montana stayed the night before? Why was she in town? To win Tank’s heart again or simply to reconnect with Kaia? And what the hell did it mean for all of them?

  All of them. Not h
er. Right now, she could only assume she was lost somewhere on Tank’s peripheral radar, and how could she fault him for that? His life had gotten completely upended in a matter of minutes...in the middle of a birthday party he hated.

  The door to the bar opened and Tank entered. Both women stopped and turned to look at him. His exhausted expression made Cassie’s heart ache for him...but she squared her shoulders and lowered her sunglasses back down over her eyes.

  “I think I’ll head out,” Erika said, grabbing her coat and hurrying toward the door. “Cassie, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She paused next to Tank, giving his arm a quick, awkward hug/squeeze kind of thing. “Good luck.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, thanks for...everything.”

  Erika glanced at Cassie and offered an encouraging smile before leaving the bar.

  An awkward silence fell over them once they were alone. Tank looked pained as his gaze locked with hers. Full of hurt and confusion and zero reassurance. The air in the bar was thick and stuffy. Uncertainty and awkwardness surrounded her.

  Cassie grabbed the garbage bag they’d been filling with the old decorations. “Well, cleanup is done. I’ll just bring this out back as I leave,” she said, busying herself with tying the knot in the bag. Her hands refused to cooperate, the slight tremble made worse by her desperation to escape.

  “You didn’t have to do this. I was coming in to do it.”

  “It’s fine. No problem. This was my dumb idea anyway.” What the fuck was with this garbage bag?

  Tank’s hand on hers stopped the attempt. “Cassie...”

  She glanced up at him. Waiting. Expecting.

  He stared at her, his eyes begging her to understand what he couldn’t verbalize.

  As usual.

  She wouldn’t fall apart. He had far too much going on right now to deal with drama from her, as well. And she didn’t trust herself to be strong enough to get through the unavoidable conversation they’d eventually have. A breakup before they’d even really gotten together.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  That’s it? That’s all he had? “It’s fine. I’ll talk to you...sometime.” She wasn’t sure when they’d get a chance to talk. She was leaving that evening for the two-night couples’ retreat with her company.

  Perfect fucking timing on that.

  How on earth was she going to survive being away now—not knowing what was going on with Tank and Montana and Kaia...and surrounded by couples trying to make their relationships stronger? She’d never been as tempted to cancel a booking last-minute, but unfortunately her company was depending on her.

  She grabbed the bag and her coat and headed for the back door. Though getting out of town might be a good thing. Being out in the wilderness might help give her some clarity, some perspective, ’cause right now, she had none. Being away from Tank might help her come to terms with things. Being this close to him was torture.

  “Cass, I...”

  She stopped. Say something. Anything. Give me something to hold on to.

  “Thank you for the party,” he said.

  Opening the back door, Cassie went outside and tossed the bag into the dumpster. Then she leaned her head against the brick exterior of the building and released a long sigh that held countless unrealized expectations.

  “Shit.”

  * * *

  HE’D MESSED THINGS up and he had no idea how to fix them.

  Watching Cassie walk out of the bar had been hard, knowing she was hurt and upset and just as confused as he was, but he had to let her go. Nothing he could say that morning would be the right thing.

  The kiss the night before had complicated the hell out of everything. It had been impulsive and in the moment. But it had also felt passionate and right. Kissing his best friend had both thrown him off balance and centered him. Would he have regretted it? Montana’s arrival hadn’t given him the opportunity to process it one way or another.

  Obviously Cassie had felt things coming to a halt the second Montana interrupted their moment, as well.

  Two women, each wanting something from him that he wasn’t completely sure he was ready for, but that they each deserved, had him reeling. Cassie deserved a real relationship. Montana deserved one with her daughter. Both left him vulnerable and open to having his life turned upside down.

  Going into his office, he grabbed his darts from his dartboard and backed up as far as the space allowed.

  This bar was his safe place. He knew what he was doing here. He had control. These four walls represented the ones he’d put up around his heart for so many years.

  What did he do now?

  He threw the red darts, missing the bullseye by a mile.

  Normally, he’d turn to Cassie for advice...but that was out of the question. The pained expression on her face that morning had broken him. But he had no idea what would happen next, and not having full control terrified him.

  His life and circumstances had always been in someone else’s hands. Strangers’ hands. Twelve foster homes in sixteen years had him on unstable ground from the moment his parents died. Some were better than others, but they all shared one thing—they had no desire to become a forever home for him. He supposed he should be grateful that none of the places they put him had kept him much longer than a year. There were always other kids and teens coming and going and it was easy to get attached to the other orphans like himself, if he let himself get close. He never made that mistake with the foster parents though.

  He knew better than to unpack his few belongings from the old, worn duffel bag he’d carried around. The entirety of his worldly possessions—mostly hand-me-downs from older kids, an old stuffed toy that he’d had since birth and a family photo of the three of them when he was a few days old. He’d been too young when his father died in the motorcycle crash to understand the significance of the tragedy and he’d still only been a toddler when, six months later, his mother took her own life. There had been no grandparents or relatives willing to step up to take him in, so he’d never really known where he came from. Being told about his parents’ deaths from strangers as he grew old enough to ask questions was a soul-sucking experience in itself. None of these people had known his parents, and without any contact with extended family over the years, he’d never been able to get any of his questions answered.

  Eventually he stopped asking or looking for family.

  Being a child in the system was hard enough, but there were times he wasn’t sure he would even survive his teen years growing up in poverty in Kotzebue. Trouble was never too far away and often it seemed like the best of the shitty choices he had laid out in front of him.

  He threw the black darts and started to feel the stress seep from his tight shoulders.

  Other people had meditation or yoga or vigorous exercise to relieve stress or let off steam... He had his dartboard.

  The guys always shit on him about it, but it was his therapy. Always had been.

  At seventeen, when he’d narrowly escaped a detention center, ditching his “friends” before they could destroy any chance he had at a future, but with nowhere else to go, he found himself living in a temporary youth center. With no money and no hope, and limited nights in the overcrowded facility, he’d discovered the anger management therapy of dart throwing.

  He’d been shit at first. Zero aim. All anger. But days of whipping the sharp, pointy things at the dartboard in the center’s game room had helped to ease the burning tension and anxiety that gnawed at him, and as a side benefit to the hours of practice, he’d eventually gotten better.

  And then good.

  Good enough that the youth center’s guidance counselor, Mr. Marcus, noticed and invited him to join his weekly dart league.

  Tank’s distrust of adults and the oversized chip on his shoulder had him turning down the offer, but eventually the promise of a free meal at least once
a week had him agreeing.

  It was the best decision he’d ever made. The first one that set in motion a chain of events that changed his life for the better.

  Reluctantly, he got to know the other men in the league. They were all middle-aged husbands and fathers, but they never treated him like a child—just another member of their team. No one lectured him or preached at him, the way he’d been expecting. Before long, he found himself couch surfing at their places, having dinner with their families... He was still so grateful for their kindness back then. Trust was slow in coming, but he appreciated them. Appreciated their food and shelter, but more than that, appreciated the connection to nice, decent people who weren’t helping him for anything in return. He was desperate to repay their kindness, so he shoveled their driveways, mowed their lawns, helped out with minor construction projects, anything to feel like he was giving a little something back.

  Six months into dart league, there was a tournament in Wild River. He couldn’t afford to go, but Mr. Marcus sponsored him and smoothed the way for him to participate in the tournament, despite it being in a bar while he was still underage.

  They’d won the tournament’s ten-grand prize and for the first time in his life, Tank had cash in his pocket. He insisted on paying back every cent Mr. Marcus had given him, leaving him with little over a thousand dollars to live on, but instead of going back to Kotzebue with the team, he’d stayed in Wild River.

  The ski resort town was small, but the opportunities there far outweighed any waiting for him back in his hometown with its higher crime rate and chances of falling back in with the wrong crowds. And the energetic vibe around town was something he’d never experienced before. It was where he wanted to be.

  Every day for two weeks, he begged Mr. O’Neilly for a job at the bar that had hosted the dart tournament. He offered to clean after hours so he wasn’t there during operation... He suggested he could go in early mornings to take inventory. Anything.