“We’ve got you covered,” Georgia said. “It hasn’t been closed. We’ve had temps covering the clinic a few weeks of every month. Natalie knows all the billing stuff and will show you what was set up before. I used to help with ordering supplies and things. We were thinking of giving it a month or two. We’ll get you up and running, and you can decide if you want to modernize things. There’s a waiting list.”

  “A waiting list?” I squeaked.

  Natalie nodded. “Honey, there’s no veterinarian nearby except for Anchorage. We can have you filled up with patients inside of a month.”

  I took a breath, trying and failing to quell my nerves. “But I don’t even have any income to pay you two.”

  Natalie shrugged, way more mellow than me about this. “There’s a surplus.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Look, I know this is a lot. We wanted you to get here and hopefully stay. Dan would like you to have the clinic. He remembers your parents and you. We don’t need the money from selling it. We’re all set retirement-wise. We’d rather it go to someone local who we care about. The accounts have enough money in them now to pay staff for a few months. You don’t need to pay Georgia and me, but we’ll find someone to help with the front. Once you’re up and running, you can hire a vet tech.”

  I stared at her. “Oh,” was all I could say.

  Natalie smiled. “It will be fine. It’s a fairly simple business.”

  Georgia studied me. “When Natalie asked about you, I thought you’d be perfect. In a way, I’m doing this for your parents. Making sure you’re home and on your feet.”

  My throat felt tight, but all I could do was nod.

  Natalie was all business. “I’ll help get all the accounts and things transferred to you. We just needed you to be here to sign everything. What do you say? We’ll take the week to get everything up and running on the backend, then start scheduling for you.”

  I gave my head a shake, trying to absorb everything. “Um, okay,” I squeaked. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Absolutely. We’ve been making it work with temps, but I finally decided we had to have a plan.”

  “You are the plan,” Georgia interjected with a firm nod.

  “Wow,” I finally said. “Well, I guess, let’s get going.”

  I was ready. Or I told myself I would be. I had left my job behind and moved back home. I really had no choice but to dive in and make this work.

  Chapter Seven

  Jonah

  A few days later

  * * *

  I had settled into a rhythm at my house, but I didn’t realize how much it would affect me to have Alice next door. I kept telling myself it was ridiculous. Hell, I had my nosy grandmother on the other side. Nosy as she was, she also left me to my own devices. And, of course, I didn’t think about her the way I thought about Alice.

  One of my habits was to stop by to check in with my grandmother every few days. After work one day, I walked through the trees to her place, knocking lightly on the door and calling, “Gram!”

  I heard giggling and then someone shushing someone else. I laughed to myself, just about to turn away when the door opened. My grandmother was there, and her cheeks were pink.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said.

  My grandmother was the only person who’d ever called me sweetie.

  I smiled down at her. “Oh, I thought maybe you were busy.”

  “I was, but I’m not now. Come in.”

  “No need. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

  “I want you to come in,” she insisted as she swung her door open wider and stepped back.

  I wasn’t going to argue that point with her, so I walked into the kitchen, glancing up to see Dennis seated at the counter.

  He smiled over at me. “Good to see you, Jonah.”

  “You too, Dennis.”

  My grandmother closed the door behind me and walked over to the counter, lifting something wrapped in foil. “Here, this is for you.” She handed it over to me.

  “What is it?”

  “My brownies with a caramel swirl,” she said, leaning forward as she spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Oh, wow,” I replied. “I haven’t had these in years.”

  “I know. Seeing Alice reminded me I haven’t made them in a while. She used to love them when she was a little girl. Just like you loved them.”

  “She made two batches,” Dennis said. “I told her there was no way I wasn’t gonna have any.”

  I chuckled as I grinned over at him. “That’s a must. Well, thank you.” I turned my attention back to my grandmother.

  “You can go now.” She walked back over to the door and opened it.

  I smiled down at her. “You didn’t have to let me in,” I added.

  She shrugged. “I wanted you to have these. Now you do.”

  A short while later, I was in my kitchen thinking I should heat those brownies. I put them in the oven on low heat. I was actually a little hungry and should’ve thought to grab some takeout or swing by the grocery store. I lifted my phone to make a note in my calendar to remember to go to the store tomorrow after work. I lived and died by my calendar.

  As I set my phone back down, I happened to glance up and look out toward the lake. Alice was walking down the dock with a basket held in her hand. I watched her reach the end and sit down. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but I was curious.

  Impulsively, I lifted my phone and texted her.

  Me: It looks like you’re having a picnic on the dock. I have dessert.

  A moment later, my phone vibrated with her reply.

  Alice: I am having a picnic. I have enough for two. If you bring dessert, I’ll share.

  Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t really care. I grabbed the warm brownies out of the oven, snagging a kitchen towel to wrap around them to help retain the heat. Moments later, I walked through the trees and down the hill to the dock, a sense of anticipation humming inside.

  I didn’t want to contemplate the way Alice made me feel more alive than I’d felt in years. Even when I was firefighting in risky situations, everything felt muted. This was helpful in a crisis because I could keep my focus where it needed to be. Until Alice, I hadn’t realized a part of me missed feeling something, feeling anything. Yet the mere existence of her broke through that fog and numbness. In turn, it amplified my emotions. Because I was afraid, afraid to let anyone matter too much.

  It’s just dinner, I told myself as I felt the soles of my feet with each step walking along the dock.

  Alice was sitting cross-legged and smiled as she glanced over her shoulder, calling, “Hey there!”

  “Hey, yourself,” I called in return.

  My pulse sped, thundering hoofbeats inside my chest as I stopped beside her. She’d spread out a blanket and had a bottle of wine with a tray of cheeses and meats, crackers, and a small bowl with some kind of dip. The scent of fresh bread wafted to me.

  “That smells good,” I commented as I lowered myself to the blanket and stretched out my legs.

  “What’s that?” she asked as I set the brownies on the blanket beside me.

  “Gram’s brownies with caramel. I thought I’d keep them wrapped in a towel because they’re warm. I put them in the oven a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh yum,” she breathed. “I’ve had her caramel brownies before. They’re amazing.”

  I chuckled. “I know.”

  We smiled at each other for a moment. I didn’t know what to do with the feeling of—the only word I could put to it was intimacy—between us. We’d just met a mere week and a half ago. And maybe the first time I saw her, she was bare-ass naked, but that wasn’t it. There was a sense of comfort when I was around her. That in and of itself was unsettling for me.

  She swung her hand in an arc over the blanket. “I have charcuterie, dip, and freshly baked bread.”

  “You made all this?”

  “Well, I didn’t make the cheese and the meats for the charcuterie, but I did make the pretty arrangement.” She moved her hand over the platter with a flourish, glancing up at me with a grin.

  “Looks very good,” I offered

  “I also made the bread. It’s just a loaf of basic white bread, my favorite. It’s nice and soft. I have an olive oil drizzle with basil and red pepper, and an artichoke cheese dip.”

  “Nice,” I murmured.

  “I needed something to eat. My parents and I used to come down to the dock and do stuff like this. I thought I would celebrate my first week at the vet clinic. I hope you like red wine. I have beer up at the house if you prefer.”

  I shook my head. “We don’t need to walk back up. I have beer at my house too. I’ll take some wine.”

  She glanced into the picnic basket, offering, “I even have cups. I didn’t know you were going to text me, but this little basket still had all the picnic stuff from when my parents were around.”

  “I’m sorry they’re not here,” I offered.

  She gave me a polite smile. “Thank you.”

  She made it easy for that topic to simply drop by pulling out a paper plate and handing it to me. “I’d get it all ready for you, but I don’t know what you like.”

  She lifted another plate from the small stack.

  “I’m pretty easy when it comes to food.”

  I waited for her to start serving herself, but she looked over and gestured. “You first.”

  A few minutes later, I looked out over the lake. With it being autumn, the air was crisp with a bite to it. The sun was setting as the stars became visible in the twilight sky.

  Glancing at Alice, I said, “This is an amazing place to grow up.”

  She finished chewing a piece of cheese and nodded. “Absolutely. It’s a bounty of beauty. When I tell people about it who aren’t from here, sometimes I think they think I’m exaggerating.”

  I finished off a slice of bread. We fell into another comfortable silence, and I discovered yet one more detail about Alice. She was easy to be with, and silence didn’t feel pressured with her. That was another sharp edge for me. I wasn’t accustomed to feeling at ease. I hadn’t since the shooting.

  I was too bitter, too cynical, and way too realistic about what the world had to offer to let myself allow anyone to matter too much.

  Aren’t you cocky? my mind taunted me. I volleyed back with a silent, dry chuckle.

  I didn’t know what this thing with Alice was, but I knew if it went anywhere, I couldn’t keep it superficial. I didn’t know how I knew that when I barely knew her, not really, but I did. I knew on a visceral level, on a heart level.

  “Do you need more wine?” Alice’s voice was throaty and melodic.

  Even that sent a sizzle through my system. Hell, every detail about Alice affected me.

  I glanced down at my almost empty cup of wine and shook my head when I met her gaze again. My eyes landed on the picnic basket. “That’s a well-stocked picnic basket, by the way.”

  She smiled, a wistful look entering her gaze. “Like I said, it was my parents’ basket. I guess it’s mine now. They used to hike a lot, and we came down here for evening picnics often when the weather was nice enough.” Her eyes shifted out toward the lake.

  “It’s a beautiful place for a picnic.”

  When her silvery-gray gaze met mine again, my entire system felt jolted, as if lightning sizzled through the air between us.

  “It is.” She cocked her head to the side, studying me quietly. “Your grandmother lives here, but you didn’t grow up here,” she pointed out.

  “Are you sure about that?” I countered.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’m sure about it. I won’t pretend I know everyone in town, but if you grew up here, I would know it. Your grandmother lives next door.” She gestured in the direction of my grandmother’s house.

  “Fair enough,” I replied with a chuckle. “My father was born here, but he went away for college. My mother is from British Columbia. I think of the Pacific Northwest in general as kind of a suburb of Alaska.”

  Alice had just taken the last swallow of her wine and sputtered on it, reaching for a napkin. After she dabbed at her mouth, she shook her head slowly. “You’re kind of right. Geographically speaking, most people would think that was crazy. But if you live in Alaska, you know you can’t really fly here, at least not in the US, without going through Portland or Seattle.”

  “What do your parents do?”

  “My father’s a marine biologist, still is. He took a job at a university in Seattle. My mother was a teacher and was teaching until just a few years ago.”

  “Seattle is in a pretty area. Where were you in the city?”

  “We lived in a small town on the outskirts. We came up to Alaska in the summers.”

  She looked thoughtful, offering, “I think I remember you coming up. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-four. You?”

  “Thirty. Back then, four years felt like forever.”

  “It is like forever,” I agreed.

  “Did you move up here for the firefighter job?”

  Chapter Eight

  Jonah

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said simply, leaving out so many details behind that decision. It was a chasm of information to avoid, but I did. I wasn’t about to get into all that with Alice. As much as possible, I avoided talking about the school shooting. I had wanted to eventually take a university job, like my father. I still had that undefended dissertation hanging out there. Instead, I got shot, watched four kids die, and learned a woman I had been dating had also died. The idea of walking into a classroom of any kind left me in a cold sweat.

  Blessedly oblivious to my train of thought, Alice gestured toward my empty plate. “Brownie?”

  “Yes. Do you think they’re still warm?” I asked as I reached for the towel-wrapped brownies.

  “I bet they are.”

  When I unwrapped them and felt the warmth, I grinned at her. “Success.” I carefully opened the foil to find what had to be a full tray of brownies tightly lined up in rows. “I can’t remember the last time I had Gram’s brownies.”

  “For me, it would’ve been the last time I came home to see my parents,” she offered.

  When our eyes met, I saw pain flickering there for a moment, but it disappeared quickly. She looked down, carefully lifting two brownies and putting them on my plate.

  “How do you know I want two?” I teased.

  “Because I want two and probably more,” she quipped with a wink.

  I bit in and the rich chocolate and warm caramel flavors broke across my tongue. I closed my eyes as I let out a moan. After I finished chewing, I opened them to see Alice’s own eyes were closed as she savored the flavor.

  “Fucking amazing,” she said flatly after she swallowed and opened her eyes.

  “Definitely.”

  We each ended up eating four. Alice carefully wrapped the remaining brownies. “I bet those will be gone in another day.”

  “Do you want some?” I asked.

  She looked up at me, starting to shake her head before I added, “You know she’ll make me more.”

  A smile curled the corners of her mouth, and my pulse pounded in response as if clapping. “Excellent point. Let’s walk up to my place. We can put them in a container. They’ll just rattle around loose in this picnic basket.”

  I helped Alice clean up, which mostly consisted of me watching as I handed her items to tuck into the basket. Moments later, we walked up the hill together, angling toward her place. I followed her into the kitchen, and she set the picnic basket on the corner of the counter.

  “Give me a sec. I’ll get a container. Are you sure you don’t want them all?”

  She looked up at me, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember what she was talking about. The gears in my mind clicked into place, and I nodded. “Of course. Gram will be thrilled to know I shared her brownies with you.”

  Alice grinned. “Well, by all means then.” Her gaze sobered. “I’m really sorry she’s sick.”

  I took a quick breath. “Thank you. I am too. Right now, I’m sort of in denial. I know it intellectually, but I’m hoping she’ll last longer than they think.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little denial. They always say it’s good to live in the moment. At this moment, she’s here, so let’s celebrate that.”

  “With dark chocolate caramel brownies,” I added dryly as she turned away to fetch a container out of a cabinet.

  “I’m with you there,” she replied, her voice laced with subtle laughter.

  She took half the brownies because I insisted. The sound of the lid snapping closed on the container was loud in the quiet kitchen. Alice looked up at me. “Thank you for the brownies and for joining me for dinner.”

  I didn’t realize I was standing so close to her and wasn’t even sure how I ended up there. Her kitchen wasn’t that large. The door that came in through the side was behind me, and there was a counter along the wall where the door was and another that faced the lake. Although it was dark, I knew where the lake was. To another side was a little breakfast nook nestled into a bay window.

  I forced myself to focus. “I think I should thank you. You’re the one who fed me.” My voice had a raspy edge to it.

  Her hand was resting on the container. She lifted her other hand, catching one of her curls and spinning it around her forefinger. Her curls were an unholy temptation, dark and a little wild and untamed. I wanted to bury my hands in them and kiss her.

  Apparently, my body was ahead of my brain. Because, in another second, I had reached over, catching the curl and letting it slide through my fingers. Her eyes widened slightly, and I heard a little hitch of her breath in her throat. As I looked down at her, I noticed the spray of freckles scattered on her cheeks.

  Because I was all in on being reckless at this moment, the next thing I knew, I brushed my knuckles lightly across her cheek, murmuring, “I love your freckles.”

 

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