1—Devlin

ItwasgoingtobeabusynightandIsighedwith

increasingagitation.Iwasattendingthepremierofmy
newestactionflick,whichmeantthattherewouldbe
interviewsandafter-parties.EvenbeforeIsteppedoutof
thelimo,justthinkingabouttheeventsofthenightmade
metired.IlookedovertoAubrey,thetwenty-twoyear
oldactressthatwasalreadygettingOscarnods,and
wonderedhowthepresswouldhandlethefactthatshe
wouldspendthenightonthearmofathirty-twoyear
oldthat,quitefrankly,wasgettingtiredofHollywood.

Ithitme—reallyhitmeforthefirsttime—how

absurdallofthishadbecomewhenIsteppedoutofthe
longblackcar.Themovies,thecamerasalwaysflashing
inmydirection,thewhirlwindofparties,women,and
jettingaroundtheworldtoarrivelateatanexpensive
movieset…itdidn’tfeellikemylife.Theredcarpet
belowmyfeetseemedsuddenlyfoolishasthepaparazzi
andreporterscrowdedaround.

Isawthemovieposteronthewall,nearlybillboard

size,boltedtothesideofthetheater.Myfaceandbody
tookupmostofthespace,Photo-shoppedtolookabit
tannerthanitactuallywas.God,evenmyhairlooked
blonder.Iwasholdingagunandhadabeautifulwoman
wrappedaroundmyarm.Mynamewascenteredatthe

topinbeveledsteelletters:DevlinStone.

Isthatevenmeanymore?

Thoughtslikethatfilledmyheadingrowing

frequency.Ididn’texactlyhatewhatIhadbecomebutI
sawnorealvaluetowhatIwasdoing.Itmademefeel
emptyandhollow.IlongedforwhatIhadoncelived
for.Somethingwithmeaningandpurpose—something
thatmadeadifference.

Aubreyplacedanarmaroundme,herdresslow-cut

inawaythatwasbothelegantandrisquéatthesame
time.Herlong,darkhairwasdonesimply,cascadingin
looseringletsdownhermostly-bareback.Iwasglad
thatsomeofthereportersweremoretakenwithher
designerdressandthediamondsthatsheworethanthey
werewithme.Itwasawelcomechange.Still,Ihadto
fieldthesameunendingquestionsIhadbeenanswering
overthelastsevenyearsofmylifeaswemadeourway
downtheredcarpet.Ismoothedoutmyblacksuitas
AubreyandIsteppedforward,closertothewolves.
God,canthisnightbeoveralready?

“HowwasitworkingwithClintAndolphini?”asked

somebeautifulblondereporterI’dneverseenbefore.
Herewego.

“Great,”Ianswered,tryingtoseemgenuineasI

pausedamomenttoanswerherquestions.“Hereally
knowshowtopushanactor.”

“Wasithispushingthatresultedintheextramuscle

youaddedtoachievethatgorgeousbodyforthisrole?”
Hereyesslowlycombeddownmeandsheofferedacoy
smile,flashingherbrilliantwhiteteeth.

IchuckledandwassurprisedathowrealisticI

sounded.“Thatandaregimenthatconsistedof
working-outsixtyhoursadayandeatingnothingbut
cardboard.”

SheandanotherreporternexttoherlaughedasI

keptwalking,tuggingAubreyawayfromacattylate-
nightwannabethatwasmakingjokesaboutherample
cleavage.

DevlinStone,Ithought.God,howIhatemyname

now.

Itrulydid.WhenIcamehomefromAfghanistan—

beforeHollywoodhadcourtedme,liftedmehighand
eventuallyburnedmeout—Ihadknownthatmyname
hadstrucksomethinglikehopeintolotsofpeople.My
storyofsurvivalinthewarhadgarneredmagazine
coversandeventuallylandedmeaHollywoodagent

withoutevenreallytrying.Butmyname,DevlinStone,
nolongermeantanything.Itwascheapand
meaningless.IhatedwhatIhadquicklybecomeandthat
includedmygivenname.I’dseenitontoomanyposters
andtabloids.Iwassickofit.

Jack,IthoughtasAubreyandIfinallymadeoutway

tothetheaterdoors.Oh,tobeaJack.Mygrandpa’s
name.WhenIgetawayfromallofthisandliveina
cabinin...somewhereremote,I'llchangemynameto
Jack.Yeah,JackKeith.Grandpa'sfirstnameandmy
middlename.Nice,plain,simple.

Thethoughtcheeredmeenoughtogetpastthetwo

orthreeotherreportersthatwerewaitinginsidethe
theater.Thelightshadbeendimmedandafewpeople
wereamblingabout.Icouldtellwhotheywerewithout
speakingtothem.Sonofabitch.Theywerefilmcritics
(oneofwhich,Iknew,wouldtearmedownregardless
ofhowhefeltaboutthemoviebecausehispublication
feltthatIwasnothingmorethanablond,poorman’s
RyanReynolds)andtherewerejournalists.The
journalistslookedsadbecausemoreoftenthannot,they
werefromrespectednewspapersandwouldratherbe
writingpoliticalpieces.

Thentherewerethefansthathadwoncontests.They

werestandingtotheside,watchinguswithwideeyes.I

walkedthroughitall,seeingyetanotherposterfor
tonight’smovieonthewallbehindme.Itwascreepy.
DevlinStoneintheactionfilmofthesummer!

IwasvaguelyawarethatAubreyhadstopped.We

wereholdinghandsandshewastuggingonmesubtly,
tryingtogetmyattention.Iturnedtowardsher.WhenI
did,shekissedmeeagerly,slippinghertongueintomy
mouth.Camerassnappedlikecrazyandpeoplegasped.
BetweentheflashesandAubrey’stongue,Iwasn’tsure
whichtopaymoreattentionto.Ihadnointerestina
relationshipwithAubrey,butshewashotandsexyas
hell.

Withthekissoverandthecamerassettlingdown,I

ledherfurtherinsidethetheater.

“Whatwasthatabout?”Iaskedgruffly,notlooking

ather.

“What?”Aubreyaskedinthatshy,innocentwaythat

droveteenageboysinsane,blinkingherbigblueeyes
rapidly.

“Thekiss.”

Sheshruggedandwavedatfansfartherbehindthe

flashingbulbs.“Well,beyondmywantingto,the

reporterforDailySnarkwasthere.He’stheonethat
wrotethearticleabouthowIwasprobablyalesbian.”

GoodGod.“Oh,”Isaid,notreallycaring.

Anover-eagerattendantledusthroughalargelobby

andintothetheater.Afewpeoplewerealreadyfilling
someoftheseats—mostlyfilmcriticsandmorecontest
winnersasfarasIcouldtell.

Whenwetookourseats,IletgoofAubrey’shand

andrelaxed.Isensedthatshewaslookingatme,butI
didn’tturninherdirection.

“Areyouokay?”sheasked,herdelicatefingers

comingtorestonmyshoulder.

Ipinchedthebridgeofmynoseandsuckedinadeep

breath.“Ofcourse,”Isaidwithashakeofmyhead.
“Justtired.”

“Areyouupsetaboutthekiss?”

Isighed.Inallhonesty,Iwas.Weweren’tdating.We

hadmetontheset,asshehadabitpartinthemovie.We
gotalongwellbutIknewthatwewouldn’tbe
compatibleinadatingscenario.Shewasfartoo
involvedinbuildinghercareer.Butnowapictureofus

kissingratherdeeplywouldbeeverywheretomorrow.
Hell,intheageofTwitterandFacebook,thatphoto
probablyhadmadeitaroundtheworldbynow.
Everyonewouldmakeassumptionsaboutus.

Ibrushedawaythethought.“No,”Ilied.“It'sokay.”

“Thenwhat'sup?”

“Nothing.”Myvoicewasgruffandshort.Even

thoughIwasn'tlookingather,Istillcaughtthequick
flashofhurtcrossherfaceandthensheturnedawayand
lookedbacktothescreen.

Ionlyfeltbadaboutitforamoment.BythetimeI

thoughtIshouldapologize,thelightsweregoingdown
andthescreenwasbeinglitup.

JackinAlaska,Ithought.Yeah,thatcouldwork…

****

Therunningtimeforthemoviewastwohoursand

twentyminutes—aboutforty-fiveminutestoolongin
myopinion.It'sstrangeseeingyourselfuponthebig
screen.It'slikewatchingadifferentversionofyouact
outadifferentlife.Ineverlikedit.Itendedtobeat
myselfupoversmallthings...thingsIthoughtIcould

havedonebetter.Regardless,thepackedtheaterseemed
tohavelovedit.TheapplausewasuproariousandIgot
severalpatsonthebackfromthosesittingbehindme.
OneofthesegesturescamefromAdamParker,my
agent.

“LookslikeIlandedyoutheroleofalifetime,”

Adamsaidovermyshoulder.

Istood,fakedasmileandshookhishand.Aubrey

slideupnexttome,placinganarmaroundmywaist.I
leanedintoher,moreoutofsupportthananythingelse,
andenjoyedthewarmthfromherbody.Iknewthatwhen
weexitedthetheater,therewouldbemoreflashbulbs
andover-enthusiasticreporters.ButallIwantedwasto
getbacktothehotelroom,haveafewtoomanydrinks,
andnotwakeupuntilthecleanersknockedonthedoor
andforcedmetoleave.

IknewAubreywouldwanttostaywithmeovernight.

Theideaofitwasappealing;heramazingbodyalone
wasenoughtostirmorethanmyinterest,butIdidn’t
wanttoopenapotentiallymessycanofworms.I’dface
thatdebaclewhenthetimecame.Shewasgorgeousand
incrediblytalented,butIdidn’twanttogetentangledin
anysortofromancewithsomeoneelseinHollywood.I
knewhowthetabloidsworked.Ihadmorereasonthan
thattostayawayfromher,though;shewasalso

incrediblyvain.Theidolworshipshehadgottenfrom
themediainthepastyearorsohadgonetoherhead.
Shehiditwellforthecamerasbutitcameoutinfull
forcebehindcloseddoors.Shewasslowlyturninginto
abitchylittlediva.Godknewwhatshe'dbelikeinafew
years.

Weexitedouraisleandheadedupthroughthe

theater,walkingarminarm.Thecamerasstarted
snappingandreportersstartedaskingquestionsright
away.IdidmybesttoanswerthemaswellasIcould.I
alsotriedtomakemyselfappearasifIwasinahurry
ratherthanjustbeingtiredandannoyed.Iwassurethat
theevening’sfestivitieswouldleadtolessthanpositive
headlinestomorrow,butIdidn’tcare.

Isignedafewautographsandansweredgeneric

questionsinarapidresponsefashion.TheNewYork
Citynightwascoolandpleasantontheothersideofthe
crowdandIcouldn’twaittoenjoyit.Actually,enjoyit
wasn'ttheappropriateword.Perhapsescapeintoit.I
feltsomethingescalating,almostlikeatension
headache,onlyitwasovertakingmyentirebody.I’d
neverhadapanicattack,butwonderedifthiswaswhat
onefeltlike.

Icouldseethestreetaheadofus,theareawherethe

redvelvetropesended,corrallingthereporter,

photographersandotherjumbledfaces.Icouldn’tget
therefastenough.Isawthestreetasarefugewherethe
limowaswaitingforus.Thelimowouldpullusaway
fromthismadnessandbacktosafety,backto—

Ifroze.Refuge.Safety.

Lessthanafoottomyright,thebrightflareofa

camerawentoff.Inarrowedmyeyesagainstit,shutting
themcompletely.WhenIopenedthem,thecamerawas
notthere,norwasAubrey.Theywereallgoneandthe
rumbleoftheexcitedvoicesbehindthevelvetropes
weregone,replacedwith—

—thedeafeningrhythmicroarofhelicopterblades.

I’mlyingonmyback,theentirerightsideofmybody
drenchedinblood.Butthebloodisnotmine,well,notall
mine.Iwearthebloodofanothersolider,onethatI
almostpulledoutoftheambushalive.I'mtired.The
stabbingpainofmygunshotwoundsfadingtoadull
ache.DryAfghandustswirlsuparoundmeasthe
helicopterdescendsandwhenIlookuptothevehicle
thathasbeensenttorescuemyteam,Icanseethe
blazingsunbehindit,asbrightasamillionflashbulbs,
beamingdownwithsuchferociousheatthatitseemsasif
itistryingtofinishthejobthattheteamofenemy
soldierscouldnot.

Myhandsarestilltremblingwiththegun’srecoil,my

fingerstillcurledintothatfracturedU-shapeofpulling
atrigger.Istareintothesunandholdthebodyofthe
onlysoldierI’dbeenabletopullfromthebattle.Iknew
thesoldierwasdeadbutstillheldontohisbodyasifit
weregold.Evenwhenthehelicopterlandedandthe
medicstriedtotakehisbody,Iclungtoitwith
everythingIhad.

Intheend,theyhadtakenthesoldierandhelpedme

tomyfeet.I’dvaguelyfeltthehelicopterrisingintothe
air,onlyawarethatIwasoffofthegroundwhenIlooked
downandsawabird’seyeviewofthetownIhad
narrowlyescapedfrom;itwasmostlyinruins,nothing
butsmoke,flames,anddebrisalongitswesternregion.

Thehelicopterbladesdronedonandasoldier,that

wasdoinghisbesttonotcry,wastellingmethatIwas
thesolesurvivorofSerpentTeam—thattwelveother
soldiersweredeadandIwastheonlyone,besidesthe
schoolchildrenwe'dbeensenttorescue,thathadmadeit
outofthathellonearthalive.

Anothercameraflashpulledmeoutofthe

recollection.

Iblinked,asifdazed.Suddenly,Aubrey’svoicewas

atmyear.Shesmelledgoodandherbreathonmyear
andneckwasjustenoughtobringmearound.WhileI
hadnorealinterestinher,Iwas,afterall,justaman.

“Areyouokay?”sheasked,lookingupintomyeyes

withworryetchedintoherbeautifulandpolishedface.

Istaredatherforamoment,attemptingtoregainmy

composureandbearings.Iglancedaroundatthe
massivecrowdsthenbacktoher,slowlyshakingmy
head.“No.Idon’t...Idon’tknowwhatitis.Ijustneedto
getoutofhere.”

Shesaidnothing,butshedidherbesttosaveme

fromwhateverwashappening.Ismiledpolitelyatthe
camerasasIwalkedbrisklydowntheremainderofthe
redcarpet.Aubreywasgivingthecoldshoulderto
reportersinapoliteandsexywaythatonlyyoung
actresseswerecapableof.ItwasthefirsttimeIcould
everrememberbeingimpressedwithanythingabouther
asidefromheractingtalentsandherbody.

Thepeopleandtheflashinglightspassedbyinablur

asAubreyledmetothestreet.Ourhandswere
interlockedandIfoundmyselfsqueezinghersfor
reassurance.Ifocusedonherdress,onhercurves,and
wonderedwhatwaswrongwithme.Iwasprettysurethat
anyotheractorinHollywood—aswellasmillionsof

menworldwide—wouldgiveupanythingtobeholding
handsandwhiskedawayintoalimowithAubrey
Henning.But,despitehersuddenpoiseandheroics,I
reallywishedIhadn’taskedhertocomewithtothe
premierewithme.Itmademefeelirresponsibleand,
quitehonestly,ungratefulforthelifeIwasliving.

Lostinmyownself-pity,thelimowastherebeforeI

knewit.Aubreywentinsidefirst,wavingtothecrowd.I
gavemyownlittlewaveandthensteppedinafterher.

Oncethedoorwasclosed,Inearlycollapsedback

againsttheseat.Mybreathingwasheavyandlaboredand
IrealizedthatIwassweating.

“God,Devlin,”Aubreysaidfeelingmyforehead

withthebackofherhand.“What’swrong?Areyou
sick?”

“Don’tcallmethat,”Isaidwithalazygrinonmy

face.“MynameisJack.”

“What?”Shegavemeacrazylook,twistingher

headinsuchawayitremindedmeofaconfusedlittle
puppy.

Ilaughedatthisforamoment.Then,fornoreasonI

couldclearlyidentify,thelaughterturnedintoasound
boutofweeping.Ihatedmyselffordoingit,butIleaned
overtoAubrey,foundhershoulder,andletitout.

IwasdimlyawareofAubreytellingthedriverto

takeusbacktothehotel.Afterthat,thenightpassedby
throughthelimowindowsandIwatchedthelightsof
NewYorkpassbylikeaboredchild.

2—Devlin

Twohourslater,IwashavingwhatIsupposewas

somesortofidentitycrisis.Itwasn’tamid-lifecrisisby
anystretchoftheimagination.Iwasonlythirty-two.It
wastooearlyforthat,atleastIthought.Still…therewas
somethinggoingoninsideofmyheartthatfeltliketwo
kidsplayingtugofwarwiththeirfavoriteblanket.

Istoodatthehotelwindow,innothingbutmyblack

boxerbriefs,withabottleofredwineinmyhand.Ihad
decidedtogowithouttheglassafterafterIfinishedthe
firstonetooquickly.ItwasthesecondbottleofPinot
NoirAubreyandIhadopenedand,truthbetold,she
hadn’tgottenmuchofeither.Ihaddrankenoughtotry
toclearmyheadandthen,findingthatthedrinkingonly
clutteredit,continueddrinkinginthehopesofmaking
moresenseofit.

Ithadn’tworkedsofar.

Behindme,Aubreywasinthebed.Shewasdressed

inoneofthosesatinnightiesthatwasn’tquiteso
provocativeastobecalledlingerie,butitwassureas
hellseveralstepsaboveasimplenightgown.Itwas
black,withlacefringesaroundthechest—whichwascut
verylow–andthebottom—whichwascutveryhigh.A

photographercouldhavewalkedintotheroomand
madeafortuneoffofaphotoshootwithAubreyinthat
littlepiece.Shewasstillwearinghermakeupandher
longdarklockslookedabsolutelyperfect,likethey
alwaysdid,hangingaroundherfacelikesoft,wavy
curtains.AubreyHenningwascertainlyaknock-out.

Itookapullfromthewineandturnedfromthelights

ofNewYorktogiveheralingeringstare.Thehellofit
was,shewantedme.Shehadtoldmesothreedifferent
timessincewehadgottenbacktotheroom.Ihadalmost
givenin.Wehadkissedforagoodtenminutes.Ithad
gottenheavyenoughtothepointwhereIhadherpressed
againstthewall,shelosthershirtandIwasdowntomy
underwear.

ButImanagedtocatchmyself.Asthenightwenton

andIgotslightlymoreinebriated,thethoughtofhaving
sexwithAubreystartedtoseemmoreandmore
appealing.ButIdidn’twanther…notreally.Iwasn’t
interestedinherbeyondherbody.Andthatwasn’thowI
wasraised.IknewthatHollywoodtypesoftengota
horriblestereotypeaboutsleepingaroundandtrashing
relationshipsateverycorner.I’dbedamnedifIwas
goingtofallvictimtoit.

Ifacedbacktothewindowtostareoutintothe

vastnessofthenight,liftingthebottleofPinottomylips

oncemore.

Aubrey’slastadvancehadcomefifteenminutesago.

IturnedherdownaspolitelyasIcould,takingthebottle
tothewindowandlookingoutattheNewYorkskyline.I
couldseeherinthereflection.Herlongslenderlegs
wereexposedtoalmostherthigh.Herbreastsmightas
wellhavebeentotallyuncovered,asthenightiewastight
butleftverylittletotheimagination.Shehadtakento
playingsomegameonheriPhone.Itwashardtotell
fromthemurkyreflectioninthewindow,butIthought
shehadaspoiled,almostpoutylookonherface.

TheTVwason,butneitherofuswerepayingmuch

attentiontoit.

Thatis,notuntilthelate-nightgossipshowplayed

footageformthepremiere.Itstillblewmymindhow
fastthemediaworkedwhencelebritieswereinvolved.I
lookedtothescreenandsawthefive-secondkissthat
AubreyandIhadsharedontheredcarpet.Thesplash
textthatcameracingacrossthebottomofthetelevision
screenread:NEWHOTCOUPLE!

“Jesus,”Igroaned,myshoulderssagging.

“What?Idon’tseetheproblem,”shesaidwitha

delightedsmile.“Welookgoodtogether.Hell,iteven

lookslikeyou’reenjoyingthatkiss.”

Ishookmyhead,turningfromtheTVtolookback

outthepenthousewindowatvibrantNewYorkCityat
night.Itglitteredlikeathousandcoloredstarsscattered
aboutasfarastheeyecouldsee.Ileanedahandonthe
coolglassandstaredpassedmyreflection.“Ididn’tnot
enjoyit,”Ishrugged.

“Well...howaboutthekissingafterwegothere?”she

asked,feigninginnocence...butIknewwhatshewas
gettingat.

“Aubrey,it’snotgoingtohappen.”Ihadanotherbig

gulpofthewine.

Shefrownedandwentbacktoherphone.Ilooked

thetvandwatchedthemshowthekissoverandover
again.Shewasright;wedidlookgoodtogether.The
photographerscertainlythoughtso.Thelooksofaweon
theirfacesandtheannoyingpop-pop-popofthecamera
behinduswaslikesomeweirdspectacleatacircus.

IliftedthePinottomylipsanddecidedthatI’dkill

thisoneandopenanother.Aubreywaswelcometosome
ifshewantedit.Itiltedmyheadbackandenjoyedthe
waythealcoholburneddownmythroatandtheslight
rockingsensationinmyheadasitdiditswork.

WhenIsetthebottlebackdown,myphonerang.It

waseleventhirtyatnight,meaningthatitwasmyagent.
AdamParkerdidn’tsleepmuch.Iwasprettysurehehad
notgonetobedbeforetwointhemorninganytime
duringhiscareer.

Ipickedupthephoneandanswereditbysimply

saying“Hello”.Inhearingmyownslurredvoice,I
realizedthatIhadalargerbuzzthanIthought.

“Devlin,”hesaid,“soyeah,tellmeaboutthiskiss

I’mseeingonTV.Wasthatyouridea?”

“No,thatwasallAubrey.”

“Thatgirlisagenius!Canyouevenstarttoimagine

thegreatpressthisisgoingtogetyou?Thisis
awesome!”

“Sure,”Isaid.Everythingwasalwaysaboutthe

press.ItseemedeveryoneinHollywoodonlydidthings
thatwouldgetthespotlightonthem...nomatteringood
orbadlight.

“Areyoudrunk?Nevermind…howlonghaveyou

guysbeenseeingeachother?”

“Wehaven’t.”Icouldhavegoneonandtoldhim

aboutthesuddennessofthekissandhowshewasinmy
bedrightnow,hopingI’dcometoherandhavemyway
withher.ButIdidn’tfeellikegettingintothatinmy
inebriatedstate.

“Devlin,look…tomorrowmorning,canyoumeet

meforbreakfast?”

“Don’tknow.Iexpecttobeniceandhungover.

Also…IthinkI’llbegoingbyJacknow.”

Hepaused...andIcouldhearhisgearschurning.

“Jack?Whatthehellisthat?”

“What?Youdon’tlikethatidea?”

Hesighedintothereceiver.“Whateverman.Drinkit

offandcallmewhenyoucanseeandthinkclearly
tomorrow.”

“Sure,”Isaidandendedthecall.

IlookedattheiPhoneforamoment,studyingitin

myhandlikeitwassomeweirdartifactfromanother
civilization.ItmademethinkaboutaguynamedLester
thatIservedwithinAfghanistan.He’dhadaKindleapp
onhisiPhonewhilewehadservedandhewasalways

readingabookwheneverwe’dhaddowntime.

LesterhadbeenamemberofSerpentTeam.Hehad

diedonthedayImanagedtogetoutalive.Iwatchedhim
getshotintheneckandthenbleedout.Iblinkedhardat
thememory.

Igritmyteethandpitchedthestupidphoneacross

theroom.Itstruckthewall,whereitleftanicedent
beforefallinginpiecestothefloor.Istaredafterit
absently.

“Whatthehell,Dev?”

Iknockedbacktherestofthebottleofwineand

slowlywalkedtothebed.Icuppedherfaceinmyhands
andbroughthersoclosetomethatournoseswere
touching.

“Aubrey,”Istarted.“Youarebeyondbeautifuland

yourtalentisridiculous.Iamflatteredandquite
confusedthatyouareinterestedinme.IfIsleptwithyou
tonight,thatwouldbetheendofit.Idon’twantyoulike
thatand,quitefrankly,Idon’tknowwhy.Ihavesome
thingsgoingoninmyheadrightnowthatmakeno
sense.I’mtiredofthislife.I’mtiredofmyself.Andthe
factthatyouwantmeandshowinterestinmeistheonly
thingthat’smakingmenotdrinkmyselfintoanabsolute

oblivionrightnow.Canyouunderstandthat?”

Shewasquietforamoment,simplystaringbackat

me,whichwasgood.Itriedtodeterminewherethehell
allofthathadcomefrom.

“Ithoughtthat’swhatitwas,”shesaid.“Weworked

onthosescenestogetherforaweekorsoandIgotto
knowyou,youknow?Yougetthisdistantlookinyour
eyesfromtimetotimeandyoujustsortof...checkout.”

“Iknow,”Isaid,pullingonapairofjeansanda

fadedgreent-shirt.Ifoundmydogtagsinthejacket
pocketofmysuitandthrewthemaroundmyneck.Old
habitsdiehard.

“Areyouthinkingaboutyourtimeinthemilitary

whenyoublankout?”

“Mostofthetime,”Isaid,sittingdownhardonthe

bednexttoher.

“Isthatwhathappenedontheredcarpettonight?

Wereyouthinkingaboutit?”

Ilookedatherandblinked.Herhugeblueeyes

staredbackatmewithconcern.Shewasbeing
compassionate.Sometimesthegirlsurprisedme.She

wasn'tnearasnarcissisticasmostpeoplethought.

Ishookmyheadandglancedatthecarpet.“Itwas

morelikeaflashbacktonight.Itwas...itwasn'tgood.”

“I’msorry,”shesaidandkissedtheskinbelowmy

ear.ShepulledmetoherandIcouldfeelheramazing
breastspressingintomyback.WhenInoticedtheeager
responsefrommybody,IIstoodandsteppedawayas
softlyasIcould.

“Theroomisyours,”Isaid.“Asforme,I’mgoing

downtothebar,drinkmyweightinbooze,and
hopefullybeabletostumblebackuphereandsleepit
off.”

“Devlin…”

Iputafingertoherlushlipsinawaythatwas

supposedtobesweetbutlookedcomical,evenfrommy
drunkassviewpoint.Ikissedherforeheadandstared
hardatthemesmerizingstarletdressedinthetinyblack
nightyforamoment,fightingonelasturgetogiveher
whatshewanted.Iturnedawaywithasighandwithout
anotherword,walkedoutofthedoor.

****

Thebarwasprettyempty,whichwasgood.Itwas

hardformetogoanywhereandnotberecognized.
Whenitfirsthappened,IwasamusedandthoughtIwas
important...butnow,itwasjustold.Imissedtheallureof
walkingintoabusinessorabaror...whateverandnot
havinganyoneknowwhoIwas.Peoplealwayswantedto
pretendlikeIwastheirfavoriteactor,askingmedumb,
meaninglessquestionsaboutlifeinHollywood.

Luckily,thehotelbaronlyheldabouttenpatrons.I

eyedtheplacethroughdrunkeneyes.FromwhatIcould
tell,itwasvaguelyart-decointhatcoolandhipNew
Yorkstylethatwasalltherage.Course,nextweek,
they'dhavetotearitalldownandremodeltomatchthe
newestvoguelook.

Iwalkedtothefarendofthebar,hiddeninshadows

andsoftlight.Itookaseatandleanedintothecoldbar
top.Ieyedtheliquoronthewallandsighed.I’dnever
beenabigdrinkerbuttheideaofdrinkinguntilall
thoughtsstoppedrunningthroughmyheadwas
appealing.

Thebarkeeperwalkedover.Ifherecognizedme,he

didn’tleton.

“Evening.WhatcanIgetyou?”heasked.

“Ashotoftequila,”Isaid.“AndstickaroundwhileI

takeitbecauseI’mgoingtowantafewbeerstowashit
downit.AndImaybookendthosewithanothershot.”

Themansmiledatme,thathesitantsmileall

barkeepershaveattheready.“Yougotaroomhere?”

“Upstairs.Witharemarkableyoungladyinthebed.

Remarkableandclearlyconfused.”

Hechuckledandslidtheshotovertome.Itookit

greedily,downingitandplacedtheglassgingerlyback
onthebar.Thetenderthenslidmeoveraglassofamber
beerthathehadjustpoured.Theheadwasstillthickand
creamy.

“Letmeknowwhenyouneedthattoppedoff.”

“Yep.”

Ireachedfortheglassanddamnnearmissedthe

thing.IttookthatactionformetorealizethatIwasmuch
moreintoxicatedthanIthought.Iconsideredcalling
Adamandaskingifhewantedtocomehaveafewdrinks
butthenrememberedthatIhadleftmybrokenphonein
thehotelroomafterthrowingitagainstthewall.
Dammit.

Igothalfwaythroughthebeerandwasstruckbya

momentofperfectclarity.Therewasnothingprofound
thatcausedit.Iwassimplylookingatmyselfinthe
mirrorbehindthebartender.Isawmyfacelooming
overthetopsofliquorbottledlikesomeweirdabstract
cloudoveramountainrangeofglass.Myheadfeltlike
itwasfilledwithasmalltidepoolandmystomach
slowlyturnedinplacefromallofthedrinking.Butstill,
themomentofclaritywasunmistakable.Ithitmelikea
bulletrightbetweentheeyes.

Thisdoesn’thavetobeyourlife.Youdon’thavetobe

here.

Itwastrue.AftercomingbackfromAfghanistan,I

hadbeenofferedalifethatnootherveteranevergot.My
storywasaheroicone;evenIhadtoadmitthattomyself
fromtimetotime.ThestoryofSerpentTeam,therescue
oftheschoolkidsandthedeathofeverymemberexcept
myselfhadevenbeenmadeintoamovie.Ayearlater,I
hadsomehowlandedabitpartinanactionmovieand
then,afewmonthslater,hadbeenofferedtheleading
roleinaromanticcomedy.Ispentthefollowingseven
yearsmakingmovies—twelveinall.Nineofthemhad
beenactionfilmsbutthethreethathadreallyputmeinto
theA-listcategoryweretheromanticcomedies.

MinewasagoodstoryandIguessIunderstoodwhy

themediahadbeensofixatedwithme.Tohavegone
fromasoldierthanenduredaninehourgunfightagainst
fiftyenemiesandtobetheonlymanleftstanding…it
wasonehellofastory.Americahadembracedmeasa
warherodespitethefactthatIhadbeenunabletohelp
anyofmysquadmemberssurvivetheordeal.Ihadn't
rescuedallofthosechildrenonmyownafterallbutit
seemedlikethat'swhatIwascreditedwith.

Deepdown,Ithinkthefeelingsofdisenchantment

withmyHollywoodlifecamefromguilt—guiltthatI
hadnotbeenabletosavethem…thattheyweredeadand
IhadwomenlikeAubreywantingtosleepwithmewhile
Ibroughthomepaychecksofsixorsevenmillion
dollarsforthreemonthsworthofwork.

Youdon’thavetobehere…

Idownedtherestofthebeerandslidtheglassacross

thebar.Ilookedatitblanklyandstartedthinkingabout
thelimothatIhadatmybeckandcallinthe
undergroundgaragebeneaththehotel.

“Another?”thebartenderasked,takingmyglass.

“No,Idon’tthinkso.Changeofplans.”

“Headinguptoseethatremarkableyoungladyafter

all,huh?”

Ishookmyheadregretfully.“God,ascrazyasit

sounds,eventome,no….IthinkI’llletherkeepher
dignityandgetagoodnight’ssleep.”

Ithrewthreetwentiesonthebarandgavethe

bartenderanod.ItookamomenttocatchmybAdamce
beforeIwalkedbacktowardstheexitandthehotellobby
beyond.Iwalkedslowly,cyclingthroughanincredibly
foolishandill-advisedplaninmyhead.Iadvanced
carefullytothefrontdeskandtriednottobeannoyed
whentheyoungwomanbeamedwhensherealizedwhoI
was.

“Mr.Stone,”shesaidwithjusttheslightestsensual

inflectiontohervoice.“Howareyoutonight?”

“Quitedrunk,”IadmittedasIsaggedagainstthe

countertop.“Sohey,Iseemtohavemisplacedmy
phone.CouldIbychanceuseoneofyours?”

Shenoddedenthusiastically,happythatshecould

help.Sheliftedoneofthelargeblackdeskphonesfrom
behindthecounterandplaceditinfrontofme.

“Thanks,”Isaid.

Istaredatthenumbersforamomentbutrealizedthat

Ihadnoideahowtogetintouchwiththelimodriver.
HisnumberwassavedonmyiPhonewhichwasupstairs.

“Shit,”Ihissedtomyself.IrolledmyeyesasI

pickedupthereceiverandpunchedinAdam’snumber,
whichIhadmemorizedyearsago.

Hepickeduponthethirdring.“GoforAdam.”I

rolledmyeyes.Whatadouchywaytoanswerthephone.

“HeyAdam,”Isaid.

“Devlin.What'sup?”

“Itoldyou,”Isaidwithalaugh.“MynameisJack.”

“Youknow,thescarythingisthatyousoundreally

seriousaboutthis,”Adamsaid.

“Yeah.Hey,Ineedthenumberforthelimodriver.I

seemtohaveaccidentallydeleteditfrommyphone.”

“Okay.Whereareyoucallingfrom?”

“Thehotellobby.Misplacedmyphone.”

“Onesecond,”Adamsaid.Iheardtheslightsounds

ofAdamlookingthroughpapersandthenhewasback
tensecondslater.Hegavemethedriver ’sname—Dalton
—andhiscellnumberwhichIscribbleddownonthe
hotelstationarywhichthegirlbehindthedeskhadso
graciouslyofferedtomewhensheoverheardmeasking
forsomeone’snumber.

“Nowwhydoyouneedhisnumberatsuchanhour?”

Adamasked.

“Thanks,”wasallIsaidandthenendedthecall.

Ipunchedinthedriver ’snumberandwaitedthrough

fourrings.Whenhepickedup,hesoundedsleepyanda
littleirritable.“Yeah?”

“Dalton,thisisJa...uh...DevlinStone,”Isaid,

smilingathowIhadalmostreferredtomyselfbymy
newname.“Areyouavailabletopickmeup?”

“Yeah.I’msortofjusthangingouthereinthecar

tonight.I’mstillinthegarage.”

“Perfect.I’llseeyouinaboutfiveminutes.”

Ismiledatthegirlbehindthedeskandpushedthe

phonebacktowardsher.“Thankssomuch,”Isaid.

Shenoddedlikeagiddylittleschoolgirl.Ifully

expectedhertostartblushingatanyminute.Iwondered
iftherewereanyactorsthatactuallyenjoyedthis
treatment.Itseemedsortofdistractingandgrosstome.

IlookedtowardstheelevatorsandwhenIsteppedon,

IeyedthePbutton.Iconsideredgoingbacktothe
penthouseandAubreytoatleastletherknowwhatI
plannedtodo.ButIknewthatshe’ddoeverythingshe
couldtotalkmeoutofit.Leavingherwithoutlettingher
knowwasadickthingtodo,butitwastheeasiestway.I
thoughtI’dbeabletoforgivemyselfforrunningouton
heresometimelaterinmylife.

Withasigh,IpressedtheGbuttonandfeltthe

elevatorstartslidingdownward.Ialmostreachedoutto
presstheEmergencyStopbuttonwiththeintentofgoing
backtothepenthousefloorandignorethisstupidplan.
ButIkeptmyselfincheckandwhentheelevatordinged
andthedoorsslidopentorevealthegarage,Istepped
outquickly.

Thelimowasparkedonlyafewspacesaway.Atall,

lankymanwearingasuitwasstandingagainstthehood,

waitingforme.

“Whereweheaded?”Daltonasked.

Ihadnoluggageofanykind.Ihadasparebaginthe

limotrunkwithafewbasics…Iwasn’tevensurewhat
wasinthere.Ateeshirtandgymshorts,Ithought.
Maybesomeshoes.

“Theairport,”Isaid,withoutthinking.

DaltonseemedsurprisedwhenIgotintothefront

passengerseat.Hesmiledandtookhisplacebehindthe
wheel.Hestartedthecarandpulledout,headingforthe
upperlevelandthestreetsbeyond.

“Needmetocallandbookaflight?”heasked.

“Whereyougoing?”

“Alaska,”Ireplied.Thewordcameoutofmymouth

likeIhadplanneditallalongbuttruthbeknown,itwas
thefirst,mostremoteplacethatcametomymind.

“Alaska?Jesus.Whatthehellfor?”

“Whynot?”Ishrugged,notlookingfromthetinted

window.

“Surething.”Daltonlaughedandnodded.“Any

placeinparticularyouwannago?”

“Nope.Justawayfromhere.”

“Yougotit.”Daltonpickeduphisphoneand

punchedinsomenumbers.Withinaminuteorso,hewas
onthephonewiththeairport,settingmeuponaflightto
somewhereinAlaska.

Ichuckledasthelimocruiseddownthestreet.Nice

job,Jack,Ithought.Let’sgetoutofhere.

3—Mac

WhencustomerslikeAmberDawsoncomeintothe

store,IwishedthatIhadthebudgettohireatleastone
morecashiersoIcouldhideintheback.Asitwas,there
wasonlymyselfandthetwopart-timeemployees,
meaningthatIcarriedthebulkofthehoursonweekdays
—particularlythemiddleofthedaywhentheplacewas
basicallydead.

NotthatIhadanythingagainsther.Imean,hell,a

whileback,IhadoncebeenlikeMrs.AmberDawson:
unemployed,bored,beautiful,andagossip.Itwasa
prettylethalcombination.IfIwasbeinghonest,thereal
reasonIdidn’tliketobearoundAmberwasn’tbecause
shewasagossip.Itwasn'tevenbecauseshewasnosy
andaknow-it-all.IcringedaroundherbecauseAmber
remindedmeofhowIusedtobe,beforethedivorce.

WhenAmberwalkedthroughthefrontdoorofThe

PineWay,Ibecameveryawareofmyfrayedbrunette
hair,thedarkcirclesundermyeyes,theweatheringof
myflannelshirt,andthefactthatIwasalwaystired.
Amberwassimplythekindofpersonthatmadeyou
awareofyourownfaults—notonpurpose,butby
default.

“Hey,McKinley,”Amberchirped,hervoicelike

music,hersmilelikearadiantcrystalchandelier.
“How’sitgoingtoday?”

“Going,”Isaid.Ididmybesttolookbusywiththe

inventorysheetbehindthecounter,butfailedmiserably.
“You?”

“Well,Iwaswonderingwhatthelatestandgreatest

wasinorganicpowerbars.I’mstartingthisnewclassat
thegymthat’sacombinationofYogaandPilatesand
waslookingforsomethingwithlotsIenergythat
doesn’ttastelikecardboard.”

Pretentious,Ithought.Whatthehelldoyouneeda

classlikethatfor?You’reperfect.

Ofcourse,Ididn’tsayanything.Iwalkedquickly

frombehindthecounterandledAmberdownthecenter
aisleofthestore.ThePineWaywasasmallstorefor
outdoorsenthusiasts,carryingfood,clothing,gearand
allthingsinbetween.Thedécorlookedlikealogcabin,
rightdowntotheimmaculatecrossbeamsthatranalong
theroof.Inthewintermonths,weevenkeptthefireplace
going,completewithrockingchairstoeitherside.But
beingJune,therewasnoneed.EveninAlaska,most
peopledidn’tfindmuchneedforburningperfectlygood
firewoodwhentheweatherwasasbeautifulasit

currentlywas.

IledAmbertooneofthenewerpowerbar

selections.Iactuallyknewverylittleaboutmanyofthe
foodandsupplementsthestorecarried,eventhoughI
ownedtheplace.Ijustsimplydidn’tlikethewaythey
tasted,butIknewthatlotsofthehikersandmarathon
runnerswerereallyintocertainbrands.

“TheGoBar,”Isaid,indicatingtheboxontheshelf

andhatingthewayitmademefeellikeasalesman.
“Thehikersthathavebeencominginhereswearbyit.”

“Andit’snotfattening?”

“NotasfarasIknow.There’ssomebuzzaboutiton

theinternet,too.It’ssupposedtobesuperhealthyand
providesenergywithoutcausingacrash.”

“Sold,”Ambersaid,pickingupadozenofthesmall

bars.Asshelookedatthem,shetossedbackher
beautifulblondehairandreadtheingredientsonthe
backofthewrapper.

IturnedandrolledmyeyesasImademywayback

totheregister.Ididn’tlikehowjustseeingAmbermade
meupsetandborderlineangry.HadIreallygrowntobe

thatbittereversinceMikehadwalkedoutfouryears
ago?

ItriedtoignorethisideaasAmberapproachedthe

counterandpaidforherpowerbars.Iattemptedtolook
happy,knowingthatanythoughtsaboutMikeandtheend
ofourmarriagetendedtomakemelookincrediblysad
and,asaresult,mucholderthanmythirty-sixyears.I
knewthatIwasprettyinagirl-next-doorkindofwaybut
whenthinkingofMikeandbeinginthepresenceofthe
wellput-togetherAmberDawson,therewasverylittle
thatIlikedaboutmyself.

AsIputAmber ’sbarsintoaplasticbag,shegaveme

asadlookthatmademewanttopunchherinhercute
littleforty-twoyear-oldnose.Youknow,thelookwith
thetiltedheadandthealmostfrown?Thatone.

“Whatareyoudoingforlunch?”Hercrystal-blue

eyesappraisedmeasshesmiled.

“Ipackeveryday.”Itwasalie.Ijustwantedherout

ofthestore.Ievenaddedsomespeedandzesttothe
commentsoshe’dthinkIwasinahurry.Butshedidn’t
bite.

“I’monmywaytoDeitrick’sforasmokedsalmon

walnutsalad.Whynotcomewithme?Youneedtoget

outofthisstoreMac.”

IbitmyliptokeepfromsayingsomethingthatI'd

regret.“You'reprobablyright,butI'mgood.Thanks.”

“Ifyoudon'tmindmesayingso,”Ambersaidwitha

frown,eithernothearingmeornotcaring,“lifeis
short.Youshouldconsidermakingsomechangesin
yourlife…likemaybefindingaman?”

IstoppedwhatIwasdoingandstaredatthecounter

foramoment,takinginadeepbreath.“Hey,youknow,
I’veheardofthose,”Isnapped.“Theypassgas,think
withtheircrotchesandwalkoutonyourafternineyears
ofmarriage.Notmuchthere,really.I’mnotimpressed
withwhatI’veseensofar.”

Hermouthpoppedopen.Idon’tknowwhatIsaid

thattookheroffguard,butshetookherbagandnodded.
Shetookastepbackandgavemethatfrownagain.
“Haveaniceday,”shesaid.Itwasasimplestatement,but
shemightaswellhavecalledmeabitch…atleastthat’s
howitmademefeel.

Iraisedmyhandandalmostcalledouttoherasshe

walkedaway,thinkingIshouldtakeheruponheroffer.
Butintheend,Ididn’t.Iwatchedherleavethestore,her
perfectlysculptedasslookingasifthejeansthatcovered

ithadbeenpaintedon.

Whenshewasoutofsight,Icouldliterallyfeel

myselfrelax,tensionleavingmychestandshoulders.
ButIalsofeltlikeamiserableoldcrone.Ilookedtothe
clock,sawthatitwasindeedlunchtimeasAmberhad
suggested,anddecidedthatIwouldgograblunch
somewhere.Icouldbespontaneous.Icouldbe
different…solongasitwaswithinmymeagerbudget.

Fiveminuteslater,IwasputtingupmyOUTTO

LUNCHsignandlockingthefrontdoor.Iletthetension
ofAmber ’svisitandalloftheuglythoughtsI’dhad
aboutmyselfjustmeltoffasIsteppedoutintothe
gorgeousSitkaafternoon.Thesunwashighanditsrays
feltamazingonmyfaceasIsmiledupatit.Iglanced
aroundthebay,takingintheshimmeringcoldwaterand
thespanoftallDouglasfirandSitkasprucedottingthe
shoreontheotherside.Isighed.Ididneedtomake
somechangesinmylife.

****

Iendedupgrabbingaroastbeefonryeatthesmall

deliontheendofthepiertwoblocksoverfromThe
PineWay.Mystore,aswellasseveralothers,were
locatedonalongstrandofsidestreetsandbusiness-
centricpiers.Teenswouldcallthescenehipsterwhile

oldergenerationswouldcallitliberal.Imyselfreally
likedtheset-up.Iknewthebusinessownerswelland
theyknewme.

AsItookinthefacadesofthequaintstoresand

buildings,IwonderedhowmanyofthepeopleIknew
feltthesameaboutmeasAmberDawsondid.Perhaps
StanatthedelithoughtIalsoneededaman(although
certainlynothimbecausehewasmarriedandhadfour
kids,theoldestofwhichwaspreparingfortheirfirst
yearofcollege).AnddidsweetMrs.TorrencethinkI
wasstillpiningoverMikeeventhoughhe’dmadea
fairlypublicspectacleofourlastdays?

Fouryearsandyou'dthinkthatI'dhavesomething

bettertotossaroundinmyhead.

IthoughtaboutthesethingsasImadethehalfamile

walkbetweenthedeliandmystore.Betweenthetwo,I
ranafewerrands—thebankandthepostoffice,which
werebasicallytheonlyplacesIvisitedregularly—and
foundmyselfthinkingdeeplyabouttheendofmy
marriageforthefirsttimeinseveralyears.

Itwaspainful,ofcourse.Anditalsoledtoother

painfulthings.ItmademethinkofmybrotherDavidand
howIhadarguedwithhimthelasttimeIsawhimalive.
Threemonthsaftertheargument,Igotthecallfrom

momtellingmethathehadbeenkilled.

Wherethehellareallofthesenegativethoughts

comingfrom?

Itwasagoodquestion.Sure,somepeoplehadbad

dayswheretheyjustdidn’tfeeluptopar,butthiswas
ridiculous.AndIcouldblameitonAmberDawsonallI
wanted,butthiswascomingfromsomewhereelse…
somewheredeeper.

Ifeltlikescreaming.Ifeltlikecrying.AndIhadno

ideawhy.

Intheend,though,Ididneither.Instead,Iwas

distractedbythesightofthebabybluefloatplanethat
wasdockedbetweenTanner ’sFreshFishandthefishing
pier.Asmallbannerhungfromthenose-mounted
propellerthatreadFORSALE.SEEMELFOR
DETAILS.

Mel,Iknew,wasMelTanner,theproprietorof

Tanner ’sFreshFish.I’dseenhimtakingoffinthisplane
justoffofthecoast,thelittleblueplanetakinghimto
oneofhispreferredfishingspotsafewmilesaway
fromSitka.MelwasgettingupthereinageandI
wonderedifhewaseyeingretirement.Iknewheloved
hisairplaneandcouldn’timaginehimwithoutit.

Still,somethinginthebackofmyheadclicked.For

thelongesttime,Ihaddreamedofofferingguidedtours
ofoff-the-maplocationsforhikersandoutdoor
enthusiasts.Itcouldbedonewithaboat,sure;butso
muchoftheAlaskanwildernesscouldreallyonlybe
reachedbyflyingoveracresuponacresofuninhabited
land—somethingaboatcouldneveraccomplish.

BeforeIknewit,Itookadetourandheadinginto

Tanner ’sFreshFish.Ifiguredtherewascertainlyno
harminaskingaboutit.Ifnothingelse,Iatleastwanted
toknowwhyMelwassellingit.

Iwalkedintotheshop,surprisedasalwaystofind

thatdespitehisimpressiveinventory,thestoredidn’t
smelltoostronglyoffish.MelTannerwassittingbehind
thecounter,watchinganewsprogram.LikeThePine
Way,hisstorewasvoidofbusinessaroundthelunch
hour.Whenhesawmecomeinhesmiledandmutedthe
TV.

“How’sitgoingtoday,Mac?”Melwaspushingsixty

andwhenhesmiled,heactuallylookedolderthanhis
age.Rumorhaditthathewassickwithsomething,but
hisfamilywasn’tyetgoingpublicwithwhathewassick
with,exactly.Myguesswascancer.

“Prettygood.Howaboutyourself?”

“Ihadagoodmorningoffishing,soIcan’t

complain.WhatcanIdoforyou?”

“Uh,well,IactuallycameinbecauseofthebannerI

sawontheplane.Ireallycan’tbelieveyou’resellingit.”

Melshruggedbuttheexpressiononhisface

indicatedthatitwasasoresubject.“Myeyesaren’twhat
theyusedtobeandifI’mbeinghonest,I’mstartingto
getantsywheneverIgoup.Ithinkit’sjustoldage.
Besides…thereareplentyoffinefishingholesaround
here.”

Inodded,butIcouldn’thelpwonderingifMrs.

Tannerhadsomethingtodowiththedecision.Iagain
wonderedwhatMelmightpossiblybesickwith—that
was,iftheSitkagrapevinewastobebelieved.

Notsurehowtostartthenegotiationprocess,I

decidedonthebestsmall-towntacticIcouldthinkof:
gettingrighttothepoint.

“Howmuchareyoulookingtogetforit?”

Meleyedmecuriouslyandgavemeabrightsmile.

“Ididn’tknowyouwereinterestedinflying.Doyou

haveapilot’slicense?”

“No,butowningaplanewouldbejusttheright

motivation.”

Hechuckledlightly.“Isupposeitwould.”

Iabsentlytoyedwiththebusinesscardssittingonthe

counter.“It’ssomethingI’vebeenconsideringfora
while,”Isaid,“butI’veneverhadtheopportunity.I’d
liketoofferbrieflittleexpeditionstosomeoftheless-
traveledhikingandcampingroutes.”

“Hmph.That'saprettygoodidea.Wouldfitquite

wellwithyourcurrentofferings,”Melsaidwithan
enthusiasticsmile.Hethoughtforamomentandthen
lookedoutofthewindowbehindhisstorewherethe
littleairplanefloated.“I’maskingsixty-fivethousand
forit.Theinteriorisalittlebustedup;theseatsare
crackedandpeelingand,tobequitehonest,smellsahell
ofalotlikefish.Butforsomeonelocal,I’dknockfive
grandoff.”

Inodded,doingthemathinmyhead.IfIgotclever

andcombinedmypersonalassetswithfinancesfromthe
store,itcouldbedone.Thingswouldbeextremelytight
forwhile(especiallyifthislittleventurewasn’tquickly
successful),butitwasdoable.

“MindifIthinkaboutitabit?”Iasked,notbeing

onetoactoverlyeager.

“Ofcourse.It’sbeenoutthereforalmostanentire

weekandyou’rethefirstpersontoaskaboutit.Sotake
allthetimeyouneed.”

Igavehimasmileandthankedhimbeforeleaving

thestore.WhenIsteppedbackoutside,Ilookedoutto
thesmallblueplane,bobbingonthewater.Italmost
seemedtobenoddingtome,asifitapprovedmyplan.I
picturedthePineWaylogoonthesideandbeamed.

Thiscouldreallywork…howhardcanitbetogeta

pilot’slicenseanyway?

ThatwouldbethefirstthingI’dhavetofindout,I

supposed.Ismiledwarmlyattheplaneandwalkedback
tothePineWaywithsomethinginmystomachthatwas
eitherexcitementordread.Ihonestlydidn’tcarewhich
itwas.Itwassomethingotherthanangerandloneliness
andthatwasmorethanenoughforme.

IunlockedthedoorthePineWayandwhenIstepped

inside,Ihadnearlyforgottenabouttheuncomfortable
visitfromAmberDawson.AllIcouldthinkaboutwas
MelTanner ’sairplaneandhowitmighthavethe

potentialtotakemybusiness—andmylife—tothenext
level.

4—Devlin

Fiveweeks.

That’showlongittookmetomakethefallfrom

feelingasifeveryone—frommyagenttomyfans—
expectedtheworldofme,tobeingauseless,scraggly,
wasteofspace.IhaddoneabsolutelynothingsinceIleft
Aubreyinthehotel.Well,that’snotexactlytrue.Infact,
forthethreedaysafterIlefther(andHollywood,and
myagent,andmyfame,andthedirectorforthenext
filmIhadlinedup),Ihadbeenquitebusy.

IhadstucktotherandomstatementIhadgiventhe

limodriver.IhadcaughtaflighttoAlaska.Ihadcaught
aredeyetoAnchorage.Isleptmostofthewayandmade
mywaythroughtheairportwithaseverehangover.It
wasthefirsttimeIhadeverflownwithoutanyluggage
andithadbeenmarvelous.Haditnotbeenforthe
hangover,IthinkImighthaveactuallyenjoyedit.

I’mnotparticularlyproudofit,butIworkedoff

mostofmyhangoverintheairport.I'dflittedbetween
theStarbucksandtheJapaneserestaurant,watchingthe
news.IworeaBostonBruinshatandapairofaviator
sunglassesthatdidadecentjobofhidingmyfeatures.I
spentfivehoursintheAnchorageairportandonlytwo

peoplerecognizedme.Thankfully,theydidn'tmakea
bigdealaboutit.

WhenIorderedmycoffeefromStarbucks,Iused

cash,somethingIneverdid.Iusedmyblackcreditcard
foreverything–infact,Ihadgonesofarastopullitout
andhandittothecashier.ButthenIwasprettysurethat
doingsowouldmeanthatAdamwouldsomehowtrace
thetransaction.He’dprobablydoitwithinsixhours.
Andthatwouldputabigfatholeinmyplansofescaping
fromHollywood,andtheexpectationsthathadmademe
intothemonsterIhadbecome.

Okay…somaybenotamonster.I’mnotsurewhatin

thehellIhadturnedinto.AllIknewwasthatitwashard
tolookatthemanIsawstaringbackatmeinthemirror.
IalsoknewthatithadbeenwelloverayearsinceIread
ascriptforapotentialstarringrolewithoutrollingmy
eyes.Ithadn’ttakenlongformetogetjadedon
Hollywood.Sure,IdranktheKool-Aidandfoundit
quitetasty—butthepoisonquicklycorruptedmymind.
AndthenightontheredcarpetwithAubreyhadbeenthe
nightithadfinallyreachedmyheart.

Afterspendingsixhoursintheairport,Itookacab

tothenearesthotelandcheckedin(again,allofthese
transactionsmadewithcash).Inmyroom,Ilooked
throughthelocal(andnot-so-local)papers,searching

forsomeplacetostayforafewdays,maybeevenafew
weeks.

Iendedupspendingtwodaysandtwonightsinthe

hotel.Iorderedtake-outpizzaandChinesefood.Idid
nothingbutwatchTVandread.Ontelevision,therewas
alreadyspeculationthatsomethinghadhappenedtome.
Friendssayheisnotreturninghiscallsandhisagentis
decliningtocommentatthistime,thereporterswere
saying.

Ilaughedoutloudatthis,thinkingabouthowIhad

thrownmyphoneacrossthehotelroom.Ihadbeen
cuppedinthelapofluxurythen.Ihadoneofthemost
beautifulandlustedafterwomenintheworldinmybed
waitingforme,apaycheckcomingfromastudiothat
wouldbuyanicesummerhome,andabodythatmost
othermenmyagewouldkillfor.

Thathadbeenfiveweeksago.Now,Ihadathick,

blondgoateethatdidagoodjobofdisguisingmyface.
Myhairwasshaggy,curlingoutovermyearsand
floppinglikedeadleavesonmyforehead.Iworeflannel
shirtsandcheapjeans.Ishoweredonceaday(okay,
onceeveryotherdayifIdidn’tdoanythingactive).And
already,IlikethisJackguy.He’salotmoredownto
earththanDevlinStone.Heprobablydidn’thaveany
sortofashotwithawomanasblindinglyhotasAubrey

Henning,butIwaswarminguptohim.Ididn’tcarefor
DevlinStoneanymore.Thatguywasadick.

Idiscoveredmylittlehideawaycabininthereal

estatelistings.Asmallyetchunkylittlecabinthatsatin
oneofthemoreruralareasofSitka.SteepedinRussian
history,Sitkawasaninterestinglittleplace.Situatedon
BaranofIslandandfacingouttowardstheGulfof
Alaska,youcouldonlyreachitbytakingaferryor
plane.Thetownitselfwasquaint.IfNormanRockwell
hadhavesteppedfootinAlaskaatanypointduringhis
life,Ifeellikehislittlepaintingsofidealneighborhoods
wouldhaveendeduplookingslightlydifferent,taking
onacertainRussianandnorthwestcoastIndianflair.

Ifellinlovewiththecabinatfirstsight.Therewere

twobedrooms,twobathrooms,amodestkitchen,anda
smalllivingarea.Alargedecksprawledoutbehindit,
shadedbytrees.Throughthetreebranches,Icouldspy
thesparklingandfrigidwatersoftheGulfofAlaska.
Seriously,whereelsecouldyoufindtotempoles,
matryoshkadollsandaRussianOrthodoxchurch
together?

Inegotiatedwiththerealtor,managingtogetthe

placeunderarent-to-owncontractforayear.Ifunneled
themoneyforthefirstmonth’srentoutofapersonal
accountthatAdamknewnothingabout.Ihadaround

fifteenthousanddollarsinit,somethingIhaddecidedto
setasideincaseofemergencies.

Ayearseemedlikealongtime.IrealizedthatasI

signedthecontract.Ididn’tknowifI’dbeinSitkathat
long.MaybeatsomepointI’drealizethatIwassimply
havingamid-lifecrisisandgorunningbacktothelights
andattentionthathadsobadlymisalignedmeoverthe
lastfouryears.

Butfiveweekslater,withthegoateegrowninandthe

nicepeopleofSitkanolongerdoingdouble-takeswhen
theythoughttheyhadseenDevlinStone,Ifoundithard
toimaginerunningbacktoHollywood.WhileI
wouldn’tgosofarastocommittoaclichéandsaythatI
wasfallinginlovewithSitka,theisolatedfeelofthe
placeandthefjords,toweringtimberandseaallaround
seemedlikeaperfectfit.Slowly,Ibegantogetasense
thatthiswaswhereIwasmeanttobe.Evenbefore
enrollinginthearmyandtakingthestrangepathof
eventsthathadledmetoreceivingmyfirstscript,
beddingmyfirsta-listactress,andgivingmyfirst
interview,IthinkIwasdestinedtoendupinSitka—an
oddthought,asIdon’tbelieveindestiny.

TheloveaffairwithSitkastartedduringthesecond

weekIwasinthecabin.Imetamanatoneofthelocal
fishmarketsthattoldmeaboutthenetworkofhiking

trailsthatstretchedthroughtheSitkawilderness.My
interestedwassparkedatonce;I’dlovedhikingandall
thingsaboutthewildernessevenasaboy.Itwasa
passionthathadtakenabackseatwhenIjoinedthearmy
andthenithadbeenpushedawaywhenIstartedmaking
movies.TheclosestIhadcometobeinginvolvedinthe
woodswasspendingninedaysonlocationinrural
NorthCarolinaforanactionmoviethatdidfairlywell
lastsummer.

Joyanddeterminationsetmeouttofindthosetrails.

AndwhenIfoundthem,Ifeltlikeachildagain.Iwalked
alongtrailsthatwereborderedbylargetreesandan
immenseandimpossiblybluesky.Itookinthesmellsof
anunharmedforest,ofspruceandfirthathadbeen
thrivingtherelongbeforeIhadbeenbroughtintothe
world.

OnedayonmyfourthweekinSitka,Ifoundasmall

cliffjustoffofoneofthetrails.Iwalkedouttoalarge
outcroppingofrockandlookedoutintotheGulf.
Lookingatitandnoticinghowitmeldedwiththe
horizonmademethinkofthingsthatdidnotend.Itwas
thatlargeanduninterrupted.Suddenly,myissueswith
HollywoodandthisdulledmidlifecrisisIwasgoing
throughseemedminiscule.

Isatthereforatleastthreehours,watchingBald

Eaglessoarintheskyandagroupofseaottersfrolic
andplayinthedarksaltwater.Ienjoyedbeingalone.I
likedthesolitudeandthequiet.Iwouldhavestayedthere
wellintothenightifIhadn’tstartedtogetcoldasthe
sunmadeitsdecentbeyondthehorizon,settingthesky
ablazeinfieryhuesofpinks,purplesandoranges.

BythetimeIreturnedbacktothecabin,theideaof

stayinginSitkaforayearwaswelcoming.Hell…the
ideaofbuyingthecabinoutrightandstayinghereforas
longasIlivedseemedevenmoreappealing.

Theonehangup,ofcourse,wasmoney.NotthatI

wasbroke,farfromit.Ihadmorethanenoughmoney.
Earlierintheyear,myaccountanthadinformedmethat
mynetworthwassomewherearoundtwenty-two
million.IknewthatIhadatleastthreemillionsittingin
onecheckingaccountandnearlyfivehundredthousand
inanother.Buttogettothosefunds,I’dhavetoaccess
theaccountsofDevlinStoneandthatwouldeventually
gettoAdamandprobablymyaccountant,too.

Ispentthatnighttryingtocomeupwithwaystoget

tothemoney.Thetwomostlikelyscenarioswastocall
eitherAdamorAubrey.IfeltlikeIcouldlettheminon
whatIhaddone,trustingthemtosecrecy.Butsomething
aboutthatdidn’tfeelquiteright.

Sobeforesleepstartedtuggingatme,Ihadanother

idea—onethatmadenosensebutwarmedmeinside.

I’dstayhereinSitkaandstartabusiness.Whatsort

ofbusiness,Iwasn’tsure.ButwiththefundsIhad
currentlyavailable,IfiguredthatIhadatleastanother
threemonthstofigureitout.

****

OnthethirddayofmyfifthweekinSitka,Iwatched

thenewsforthefirsttimesincestayinginthehotel.I
flippedthroughthetrashyentertainmentchannels,
curioustoseehowthesearchformewasgoing—orif
therewasevenstillasearch.Myhopewasthatsome
teenagedcelebrityhadgoneonadrugbingeanddone
somethingstupid,makingthepublictotallyforgetabout
thefactthatthe'handsomeaction-and-rom-comstar'had
gonemissing.

ButwhatIfoundwastheexactopposite.Therewere

multiplerumorsswirlingoverwhatmighthave
happenedtoDevlinStone.OnetheorysuggestedthatI
hadsecretlybecomeaScientologistandwashiddenby
thehigher-ups.Thatwasagoodoneandmademe
laugh.AnothertheorywasthatIhadgonebackhometo
whereIhadgrownupinMaine.Myfavorite,though,
wasthatIwashavingasecretaffairwithanolder

womanwho,justlastyear,hadbeenrumoredtobe
sleepingwithme(shehadnot).

Therewereafewshotsofreporterstryingtogeta

statementfromAubrey,asshehadbeenthelastperson
ofnotetoseeme.Theyshowedfootageofusonthered
carpet,includingthejuicykiss.Morerecentfootageof
Aubreyhadhergivingreportersthebirdastheyshoved
camerasinherfaceandaskedherifsheknewwhereI
was.Aubreylookedsadand,Ihatetoadmitit,betrayed.
Ifeltbadforleavingherhighanddry.

Icutthetelevisionoffandlookedattheblankscreen

foramoment.SeeingAubreyinsuchastatewasthefirst
timeIhadlegitimatelyfeltbadaboutmydecisionto
abandontheHollywoodship.Shewasasweetgirland
didn’tdeservetobetreatedlikethat.IwonderedifI
shouldcallherbutIignoredtheurgeassoonasitwas
recognized.Whatashitstormthatwouldbe.

Instead,Ithrewonmycoatandbootsandstepped

outside.ItwasatypicalSitkaday;fatandbeautifulpuffy
cloudsrolledbywhilethesunbeameddownenoughto
makethingslookbrightbutnotenoughtomakethings
feelwarm.Thethermometerread52degrees.Mycabin
lookeddownahillthatwasdottedalongitsrightside
withfoursimilarcabins.Atthebottomofthehill,oneof
thefewmainroadswoundoutintoasmallvalley.I

couldbarelyseetheoutskirtsoftownfrommyporch.
Toweringsnow-peakedfjordsbordereditalltothe
right.Itookinacrispbreathoffreshairandsighed.
ThenaturalmajestysurroundingmemademefeellikeI
waspracticallystealingthecabinatthegreatrateIhad
secured.

Ihadn’tyetpurchasedacar.Itfeltlikearisky

purchasetomake,seeingashowIwasn’tyetcertainhow
Iwasgoingtogetmyhandsonmymoney.WhatIhad
donewasdroppedonehundredbucksonaused
mountainbike.Ispentanafternoonkeepingmyphysique
incheckandsofar,duringmyfiveweekstintinSitka,
ridingthebikewastheonlyformofexerciseIwas
doing.Itwasawelcomechangefromtheworkout
regimensmymovierolesusuallyrequired.

Thebikewasagreatwaytoenjoythesceneryand

justslowdown.IthinkthatifIhadacar,Iwouldn’thave
appreciatedSitkaquiteasmuch.Sure,itmadegrocery
shoppingapain(Ihadtopayateenagekidtendollarsto
delivermypurchasestomycabin),butitwasworthit.

Ihoppedonthebicycleandpedaledoutoftheyard.I

stucktothesideoftheunmarkedroadthatledtomy
cabin,coastingslowlydownthehilltowardstown.Istill
wasn’tusedtothegoateeortheshaggyhair,soitstill
mademewanttosmileasallofthehairtickledmyface

whenitruffledinthebreeze.

Imademywaydowntothemainstretchofroadthat

leadintoSitka.Iwasn’texactlysurewhereIwasgoing.I
justneededtogetoutanddidn’thavethementalcapacity
atthemomenttotrustmyselfononeofmylong
reflectivehikesoutintothewilderness.Bythetimetown
creptintoview,IthoughtthatI’dmayberideTanner ’s
FreshFishdownnexttothepiertogetsomethingfor
dinner.MaybeI’dswingbyaRedBoxandseeifthere
wereanygoodmoviesIhadn’tseenyet.Anythingto
occupymymind.

Myattentionwasmomentarilytakenfrommyvision

ofkingcrabfordinnerwhenIsawaquaintdisplayin
thewindowofabusinessIhadpassedseveraltimesbut
hadnotyetsteppedfootinto.Thedisplayfeaturedanew
typeofhikingbootthat,Ihatetoadmitit,mademewant
apair.Itwassurroundedbyaprofessional-lookingset-
upofAstroTurfandwhatlookedtobeacampfiremade
ofStyrofoam.Ipeeredbeyondthedisplayintotherest
ofthestoreandsmiled.Quaintandrustic–rightupmy
alley.ThevinylletteringonthewindowreadThePine
WayandfromwhatIcouldtell,itwastheperfectstop
formyfuturehikingexpeditions.

IwalkedintoThePineWayandimmediatelyfelt

comfortable,asifI'dbeeninthereamilliontimes.Itwas

morethanthegoodsbeingsoldthough;itwasintheway
theplacewasdecoratedandarranged,rightdowntothe
faintsmellofpineintheair,whichmightbeattributedto
thehugepinebeamsthatranacrossthelengthofthe
roof.IwonderedwhyIneverstoppedinthefewtimesI
hadventureddowntothisendoftown.Itwasoneof
thoseplacesthatyoupassedwithoutnoticeunlessyou
werereallylookingforit.

Therewerethreeothercustomersinthestore;two

wanderingtheaislesandoneattheregisterpayingfor
theirselections.Anattractivewomanwithlong,raven
hairandgirlishdimpledgrinwasbehindtheregister,
ringingupthepurchases.Imademywayovertothe
smallselectionofshoesinthefarcornerofthestore
whichwassituatedbesideasmallfireplacethatlooked
asiftheentirestorehadbeenbuilttoaccommodateit.It
reallywasaquaintandtrulyuniquelittleplace.

ThepairofbootsIworewerecomfortableenough,

buttheyleftalottobedesiredwhenitcametolong
hikesinthewoods.Iwantedsomethingthathadthebuild
andcomfort.Iturnedaroundtoaskthewomanbehind
theregisteriftheyhadtheminmysize.WhenIdid,I
collidedwiththewoman—alreadyonherwayovertobe
ofassistance—andnearlyknockedherdown.

Idroppedtheshoeandcaughtherbyhershoulderas

sheletoutanoofsound.ShelookedstartledandIcould
feelmyfaceflushwithembarrassment.

“Shit!I’msosorry,”Isaid.“Ididn’tseeyouand—,”

“No,no,itwasme.Ididn’t—,”

“IneedtowatchwhereI’mgoingbecauseI—,”

“It’sokay.I’mokay.”

Wespentfivesecondsspeakingovertopofone

anotherasweregainedourcomposure.Shegavemea
beautifulsmile,claspedherhandstogetherinfrontof
herandsaid,“Let’strythatagain.HowmayIhelpyou?”

Ilookedoverherprettyfaceforamoment,takingin

thebrightgreenandgoldenbrownsthatmadeupthe
hazelinhereyes,andsmiled.“Ineedthese,”Isaid,
bendingdowntopickupthedisplayshowIhaddropped,
“inasizethirteenandahalf.”

“Hmmm.Bigfeet.”Shetwistedherheadasshe

lookedatthebootandnodded.“Wemighthavethatsize
intheback.Letmegocheck.”

“Thanks.”

Iwatchedherwalktotheregisterandthenthrougha

smalldoorway,momentarilytakingintheswayofher
hipsandnicelyroundedass.Whileshewasgone,I
continuedtolookaround.Theplacewasprettycool,
filledwithtents,rockclimbinggear,survivalequipment,
andevenaselectionofknives.Aguncatalogsatonthe
registerwithaplaquethatreadWECANORDERANY
MAKEANDMODELFORYOUAFTERYOUSHOW
SOMEI.D.God,Alaska.IfthenorthwestandTexashad
akid,Alaskawouldbeit.Ismiled.Thisplacesuitedme
well.

Asmallrackofgranolaandenergybarssatbythe

registerandIselectedafewthatwereonsale:GoBars,
theywerecalled.

Istoodatthecounterwhenthewomancameback

throughthedoor.NowthatIwasactuallyseeingher
throughcleareyesandnotonesshadedby
embarrassment,Inoticedthatshewasattractiveinanot-
made-upsortofway.Iknowthatmostwomenhearthat
andthinkit’sathinlyveiledinsult,butthewomanwas
legitimatelycute.Itwasrefreshingtoseenaturalbeauty
afterhavingbeenexposedtochickswithBotoxandtons
ofmakeupforsolong.WhileAubreyhadn’tfallento
Botoxyetandusedmakeupsparingly,therehadbeen
thatuntouchableHollywoodbeautyabouther.Thelooks
ofthiswomanasshebroughtmeaboxofshoes,wason

adifferentlevel.Beautiful,longinkyhair,andherskin
hadaslightolivetonetoit.

Shecaughtmestaring,soIblinkedandpretended

likeIwaslookingatoneofthelargepicturesonthewall
behindtheregister.Therewasoneofamistshrouded
mountainsideandanotheroftwomenhikingupan
incline.

“Thirteenandahalf,”shesaid.“Lastpair.”

“Aretheygoodboots?”Iasked.

Sheshruggedandtuckedastrandofhairbehindher

ear.“Ihavenoidea.Thesearemadespecificallyfor
men.Butit’soneofthebestsellersacrosstheUS.”

“Soundsgoodenoughforme.”

ShestartedringinguptheGoBars,theshoesandthen

gavemeacuriouslook.Foramoment,Iwasafraidthat
shehadpeggedme.She'dseenthroughthegoateeand
thehair,pasttheBruinscapandtheflannel,and
recognizedDevlinStone.Panicbloomedinmychest,
hotlikefire.Whenshegavemehercutesylittlesmile
again,Irealizedthathehadn’tnoticemeatall.

“You’reoneofthoseecotourists,right?”sheasked.

“Um…sortof.”

“IonlyaskbecauseI’veneverseenyoubefore.Sitka

isn’taverybigplace,sothelocalfacesgetfamiliar.
Yours,though,I’mnotfamiliarwith.”

“I’manewaddition,”Isaid.“I’mnotquitesurehow

longI’llbeintown.Thelastfewdays,I’vebeenstarting
tothinkitmightbeforthelongterm.”

“Sitkacandothattoaperson.”Shelaughedasshe

puttheGoBarsinapapersack.“Itakeityou’ve
discoveredthetrailsallbackinthewoods?”

“Yeah.I’mstayingatoneofthecabinsonMoose

Hill.”

Shenoddedandreachedunderthecounter.She

offeredmeabrochurethatfoldedoutintoaminiature
map.“Thisisjustabouteverytrailyou’llfindaround
here.It’seasytogetlostifyoutakethewrongturn,soI
alwayspasstheseouttothenewbies.”

“Thanks,”Isaid,takingthebagthatshehadplaced

thepowerbarsin.“Ifthisthingeversavesmylife,I
promiseI’llthinkofyou.”Ismiledather.

Wait…amIflirting?Itsurefeltlikeit.Anddamn,it

feltweird...butgood.

Shegavemethatshysortofsmileagainandthen

extendedherhand.“Well,althoughIamlikelynotthe
first,letmewelcomeyoutoSitka.MynameisMcKinley
Blackwell,butfolkscallmeMac.Thisismystore.”

Itookherhandandshookit.WhenIopenedmy

mouth,thenameDevlinStonealmostslippedout.“Nice
tomeetyou,Mac.I’mJackKeith.”

“Nicetomeetyou,”shesaidsmilingwarmly,tucking

someofherglossyhairbehindanear.

“Sothisplaceisyours?Youownit?”

“Yeah.ThePineWayhasbeeninmyfamilysincethe

60s.Whenmydadpassedonsevenyearsago,Itookit
over.”

“It’sanawesomeplace.Ifthesepowerbarsareany

good,I’llbeback.”

“Oriftheshoesaren’t,”shesaid,noddingtothebox

Iheldtuckedundermyarm.

“That,too.Haveagoodday,Mac.”Ismiledather

andshereturneditwithagrinofherown.

“Andyoudothesame,Jack.”

IleftThePineWaywithasmileonmyface.WhenI

mademyexit,Itriedtocoylylookthroughthedisplay
window.Macwaswritingsomethingdownonasheetof
paperbytheregister.Igrinned.Iwasn’tsurewhyIwas
soinstantlyfondofher,butitwasanicefeeling.

AsImademywaytoTanner ’sFreshFish,Isawa

beautifulbluefloatplaneforsale.Whatoccurredinmy
headinthatmomentwasverymuchlikethosecartoons
whereacharacterhasaveryexaggeratedlightbulbpop
upovertheirhead.AsIwalkedintoTanner ’sFreshFish,
IonceagaintriedtofigureouthowIcouldgettomy
moneywithoutrevealingmywhereaboutstotherestof
theworld…andthistime,thistimeImeantbusiness.I
lovedtofly!

Mr.Tanner,asalways,wassittingbehindthecounter

whenIwalkedin.Hesmiledinstantlythemomenthe
noticedme.Mr.Tannergavemequitethelessonon
whichspeciesofcrabwasthebest.Theoldmanprattled
onandonbutIlikedit.Inaway,heremindedmeofmy
grandpaI'dtakenmynewnamefrom,soIdidn’tmind
thelengthyconversation.

“Heythere,Jack,”hesaid.“Backformorekingcrab

legs?”

“Nope,nottoday.”Ismiledandleaneduponthe

counter,glancingdownatthefreshsalmonandhalibut
filetsintheglass.“I’dliketotalktoyouaboutbuying
thatplaneyouhaveoutthere.”

5—Mac

ThemoreIthoughtofTanner'splane,themore

motivatedIbecame.IlettwodayspassafterIspoketo
him,makingmyselfwaitbeforeIdidmycreative
budgetingtoseeifIcouldevenaffordthedamnthing.I
hopedthatiftherewasanyviablereasonthatIshouldn’t
buyit,I’dcometotherealizationandtalkmyselfoutof
it.Butforty-eighthourslater,Icouldfindnoreasons
whatsoever.Infact,Iwantedthatplanemorethanever.

SoIwenttotalknumbersandschedulingwithMr.

Tanner.Ihadoneofmypart-timeworkersmanagethe
shopforanhourorsowhileIwentoutandstartedwhat
Ihopedwouldbemypathtogettingtheplane.

IlovedthatThePineWayislocatedrightinthe

middleofSitka’scentralhub.ThismeantthatIcould
walkjustaboutanywhereduringthedayandnotbegone
verylong.Myfirststopwasthebank,justtomakesureI
hadeverythinginorder.Afteranin-depthlookatmy
personalcheckingaccountandthestore’saccountfrom
myhomecomputer,IwasprettysureI’dneedasmall
loanjusttohaveascushionforafewmonths.Ihated
numbers.Ihateddealingwithmoney,butitwasa
necessaryevilI'dhavetoendureifIwantedtheplane.

Iwalkedtothebank,dreadingthisstepinthe

process.Butasitturnsout,itwasprettyeasy.Iaskedfor
aloanfor$5,000andsubmittedthepaperworkfora
creditcheck.IwastoldI’dknowsomethingforsureby
theendofthedaybut,basedonmycredithistoryandthe
performanceofThePineWay,itwasbasicallyasgood
asmineifIwantedit.

Itwasgreatnews,butIrelishedbeingoutofthebank

andonmywaytoTanner ’sFreshFish.Beinginan
officeandsittingbehindadeskmademeuncomfortable
andtrapped(especiallywhenitwassomeoneelse’s
officeanddesk).I'dneverbeenastuffyofficegirl,
optingformorelaid-backandrelaxedenvironments.

Imadethehalfamilewalkbetweenthebankand

Tanner ’s,passingafewpeopleIknewandgivingpolite
nodsaswepassed.Momentssuchasthosemademe
wonderifImightbealittletooanti-social.Whenmy
husbandwalkedoutonmethreeyearsago,he’stakena
lotmorethanhimself;he’dalsotakenaniceportionof
ourmoney,thebettercar,andmyself-confidence.The
oneclosefriendIhadinSitkamovedforabetterjoblast
year,leavingmeinatownIloveddearly,butwithout
anyonetoshareanytimewith.

Iwaslonely,butIcouldadmitthatitwasallmyfault.

AnightoutformeconsistedofheadingtoTwinMoose
Tavernforaglassofwine,gettingirritatedatnosy
people,andthenheadinghometobebymyself.My
weekendswereevenmoredullasIworkedonanovel
thatIhadforcedmyselftostartafterthehusbandhadleft
(Ireferredtohimonlyasthehusbandbecausethe
thoughtofhisnamemademenauseouseventothisday).

Butmaybethisplanewouldbethebeginningtoa

wholenewme.Ifallwentasplanned,theplanewould
notonlygiveThePineWayahugeboostinbusiness,but
itwouldmorethanlikelyopenupmysociallife.This
wasnotapitchingpointthatIintendedtosharewithMr.
Tanner,though.

Mr.Tannerwasbehindthecounter,wrappingupa

purchaseforanelderlywomanwhenIwalkedintohis
shop.Iwatchedhimrollasheetofbutcher ’spaper
aroundathreelargesalmon,fascinatedwithjusthow
quicklyandartfullyhewasabletodoit.Oncehehad
tapedupthebutcherpaper,heplaceditallinaplastic
bagandhandeditovertothecustomer.Itwasrefreshing
toseeanoldermanthatstilllovedhiswork,stillableto
performhiscraftwiththematerialshewascomfortable
withandnotforcefullypushedintotechnology.

Iwaitedfortheelderlyladytopayforhersalmon

andthenIapproachedthecounter.Behindme,thesmall

belloverhisdoorjingledasthewomanmadeherexit.

“Hey,Mac,”Mr.Tannersaid.“What’sup?”

“Iwanttobuyyourplane,”Isaidwithasmile.“I

crunchedthenumbersandamconfidentthatIcanmake
itwork.Ijustwantedtoletyouknow.Icanprobablybe
overinafewdayswithacheckforyou.”

“That’sgreat,”hesaid,scratchinghischinwitha

frown.“Thereisanotherpersoninterestedinit.I’ve
actuallyhadseveralpeopleask,butwhenIshottheprice
atthem,theybackedaway.Butyouandthisotherguy
seemprettydetermined.LookslikeImighthave
somethingofabiddingwaronmyhands.”

Ididn’tevenbothertryingtohidemysurprise.“Who

istheotherperson?”Iasked,hatingthewayIsounded.I
soundedspoiledandslightlyfretted.

“Now,Idon’tthinkIcantellyouthat,”Mr.Tanner

saidwithaknowingsmile.“Idon’twanttostartany
arguments.”

“Havetheyofferedmoney?”

“Yes.Infact,theyofferedtoplaceadownpayment

onituntiltheycouldbringmetherestofthemoney.But

Itoldthemthattherewasnoneedinthat.”

“Howwillyoudecidewhotosellitto,then?”she

asked.

“Ireallydon’tknow,”hesaid.“Mac,I’dlovetojust

giveittoyoubecauseI’veknownyoufor—what?Damn
nearfifteenyearsnow.ButIhavetobefair.Imayjust
havetosellittowhoevercancomeupwiththemoney
first.”

Iwantedtobeupsetwithhimbutjustcouldn’tbring

myselftodoit.Hewastryingtobefair;playing
favoritesinabusinesswasabaddecision.Myown
fatherhadtaughtmethatalongtimeago.Surelyaman
ofMr.Tanner ’sbackgroundandstatureknewthatsage
oldruleofbusiness,too.

Inoddedandalsomadeapointtoletthe

disappointedlookonmyfacelingerabit.“Well,I’llget
minetoyouassoonasIcan.Doyouatleastknowwhen
thisotherpersonissupposedtobringyouthemoney?”

“NoIdon't.Ofcourse,youhaveanedgenow;they

don’tknowthatthereisanotherinterestedparty.Maybe
they’lltaketheirtime.”

“Maybe…,”Isaid,butIwasalreadydeflated.The

motivationIfeltjustafewminutesago(afterleavingthe
stuffinessofthebank,ofcourse)wasgone.Ithadbeen
replacedbyanemotionIcouldn’tquitename.Whatever
itwas,itmademefeelfoolishandIdidn’tlikeitatall.

“Thanks.”Iturnedtowardsthedoor.

“Surething,”Mr.Tannersaid.

Ilefthisshop,atoddswiththefactthatIwasplacing

someofmyangeronMr.Tanner.Heknewmewell.He
knewthecrapIhadgonethroughinthelastfewyears
withthedivorceandnearlylosingtheshop.HeknewI
wasadependentandreliableperson.Itmademewonder
whotheotherpersonwasandwhatsortofrelationship
theymighthavewithMr.Tanner.

Butthatavenueledmetowardsapityparty…

somethingIwasnotabouttoallowmyselftodo.SoIdid
whatIhadbeendoingeversinceIhadsuddenlyfound
myselfsingleagainfouryearsago:Ibottleditupand
actedlikeIdidn’tcare.Iwentbacktoworkandchiseled
outtherestoftheday,unabletogetmymindoffofthat
damnedplane.

****

IlockedthefrontdoortothePineWayat4:59,

givingmyselftheoneextraminuteoffreedomasa
reward.IthadbeenaslowafternoonandafterIhadgone
throughinventorylists,sweptthefloorsandrestockeda
fewshelves,Ihadendedupleafingthroughayearold
GlamourmagazinethatIhadalreadybeenthrougha
dozentimes.

Iwenthomequicklyandwasfortunatetocatchgreen

lightstheentireway.Thedrivefromtheshoptomy
housewaslessthantenminutesand,truthbetold,Icould
havewalkeditintwentyorso.Buttheurgetowalkjust
hadn’tbeeninmethatmorning.Ithadn’tbeeninmefor
awhile,actually.Somegirlscouldpulloffthewhole
walker/runnerthing.Someofthemlookedcutewith
theirponytailsandpretentiouslittlecaloriecounterson
theirwrists.Othersjustlookedflatoutsexywiththeir
sheenofsweatontheircollarbonesandupperchest,
theirawesomebodiesperfectlyoutlinesthroughoutfits
thatwerenearlyasizetoosmall.

Ifellintoneitherofthosecategories.Ilookedlikea

bored,averagelookingwomanthatwasinnoparticular
hurry.Plus,Ihaddonealotofwalkingandjoggingafter
thedivorceandIdidn’twantpeopletoassociatemy
walkingwithsomesortofdepression.IknewIwasover
thinkingeverything,butdammit,Icouldn'thelpit.That
wasjustthewaymybrainworked.

ThewayIsawitthatafternoonasIpulledmycar

intomygarageat5:08wasthatdrivingallowedmeto
gethomequicker.Iwastednotime,kickingmyshoes
offinthelivingroomandmademywaytothekitchen.I
openedthefridge,pulledoutthewhitewineandpoured
aglass.IsippedhardonitasIlookedacrossthewide
openspaceofthehouse.Abreakfastbarseparatedthe
kitchenfromthelivingroom.Thehighceilingsmadeit
appearbigger—andfeelemptier.

IgrabbedtheTVremotefromthebarandflippedon

theTV,clickingovertotheinputthatallowedmetopull
upthewebbrowser.Iwenttofavorites,pulledup
Pandora,andwaslisteningtoNorahJonestenseconds
later.Withthesoothingmusicplaying,IdecidedthatI
wouldskipwhatwouldlikelybeasmallandhastily-
throwntogetherdinner,andmakemyselfworkonmy
novel.

Mynovelwasaprivatething.NooneknewIwas

writingone.Itwasaprojectthreeyearsinthemaking.I
hadneverbeenthebestwriter,butafriendofminehad
recommendeditwhenwasatmylowestpointafterthe
divorce.ShealsorecommendedthatIdrinkwhenIwrite
becauseitwouldlessenmyinhibitionsandI’dbemore
willingtowriteaboutthingsthatwerepainful.

Imaskedmyagonyintheguiseoffiction.Whether

ornotitwasworthadamn,Iwasn’tsure.Butitwas
cathartic,itwasfunand,deepdown,Iactuallythoughtit
wasprettygood.

SoIspentthatafternoonwriting.Isatatthesmall

deskthatIhadtuckedintothefarcorneroftheliving
room,andstartedworking.Itwasoneofthose
empoweringstoriesthatIusuallyjustglossedoverin
bookstores.PartofmewonderedifImightactually
summonupthenervetosendittoagenciesand
publishinghouses.Itseemedlikesomedelusional
fantasy,butIthoughtitmightbeworthashortanyway.

Iwrotefortwohours,stoppingforoneprimary

reasons.Icouldn’tignoretherumblinginmystomach
anylonger.Slightlytipsy(onmythirdglassofwine),I
wanderedintothekitchenandthrewtogetherahamand
cheesesandwich.Iateitwhilestandingatthecounter,
lookingtothelaptoponmydeskandmullingoverthe
secondreasonIhadstoppedwriting.

ThenextpartwasaboutonepageawayandIwas

facingmyfirstsexsceneever.Iwasnotaneroticawriter
andevenwritingaboutasimplekissinanearlier
chaptercausedmetoblush.Thesexscenewasgoingto
bedonetastefullyand,ifIcouldmanage,maybeeven
artfully.Butstill…Ihadn’tbeenwithamaninthat

capacityinnearlyfouryears.Writingaboutsex,I
figured,wasjustgoingtodepressme.

Getoveryourself,Ithought.Ifyouwanttogetlaid

thatbad,justheaddowntotheSaltyDog,grabaspotat
thebar,andstartflirting.

Astemptingasonenightofraucoussexwas,italso

mademerememberthefewmorning-aftersI’dsuffered
throughincollege.I’dliketothinkIhadmoredignity
thatthatthesedays.Besides…Sitkawasasmalltown
fulloftonguesthatlikedtowag.

Myhamandcheesedidn'tdistractmefromthe

comingtask,neitherdidthelastbitofwineIgreedily
slurpeddown.Myporn-benttrainofthoughtleadmeto
themanthatcameintothestoreearlierintheday...Jack.
He’dbeenhotinaweirdruggedsortofway.AndI
hadn’tbeenabsolutelycertainofit,butIthoughtthat
he'dflirtedwithmeatonepoint.Ithoughtabouthisface
andwonderedwhathemightlooklikeifheshavedhis
goatee.Ihadnothingagainstthemperse,butwhilethey
didlookgoodonsomemen,Ihadneverlikedkissinga
manwithatonoffacialhair.Ialsowasn’tafanofthe
wayitscratchedcertainareasofmybody,particularly
theonesthatwereusuallycoveredbyclothing.

Wow…simplythinkingthosethoughtswereenough

tocolormycheekswithwarmthandawakenpartsofmy
bodythathadlongbeenneglected.Huh.Iputthewine
glassinthesink,cautiousofwhatafourthglasswould
dotome.Fouryears,Ithought.Hasitreallybeenthat
long?

TheideaofheadingdowntotheSaltyDogbecame

allthemoreappealing.BeforeIcouldactonmycarnal
thoughts,Ichangedintomypajamas:atanktopanda
pairofsweatshortsthathadbeenwithmesincemy
collegedays.

Igrabbedaglassofwater,cutthemusicoff,and

veggedoutinfrontoftheTV.Iflippedthroughthe
channels,watchingsnippetsofsyndicatedrerunslike
HowIMetYourMotherandTheBigBangTheory.I
endedupstoppingononeofthosegossipshowsthat
seemedtoforeverbeonthosechannelsneartheendof
mysubscribedchannels—theonesusuallyspoutingoff
thelatestexploitsofLindsayLohanortheKardashians.

Iwasn’toneofthosewomen…Icouldcareless

aboutthelivesofspoiledandentitledcelebrities.But
everynowandthen,asbadasitsounds,I’dcheckout
thesesortsofshowsjusttomakemyselffeelbetter.If
thesefamousglitzypeoplecouldmaketrainwrecksof
theirlives,thencertainlytherewashopeforme.I’dbeen

busyatthestoreandwiththenovel,soithadbeena
whilesinceI’dindulgedinthisguiltypleasure.

Iwatchedthroughtheusualass-smoochingstories

abouthowamediocreactresswassupposedlythenext
bigthing.Ialsowatchedaninterviewwithakidthatthe
mediawasbillingtobethenextJustinBieber.Andthen
theygotintothegoodstuff:acelebritymarriagethat
endedindivorceinlessthansixdays,anactorgetting
arrestedforcocainepossession,andana-listactorthat
hadseeminglyjustdisappeared.

Thelaststoryseemedinteresting.Thewaytheshow

painteditmadeitseemlikethestorywassomethingthat
shouldhavebeenonUnsolvedMysteries.Theyshoweda
fewcheesyslowmotionshotsofasmilingDevlinStone
duringinterviewsandpressjunkets.Hewasoneofthose
menthatlookedlikehefelloutofhismother ’swomb
absolutelyperfectrightdowntohisdrool-worthysix-
pack.

Iknewhisstorywellenoughandabsolutelyloathed

himbecauseofit:hewasawarheroandwasplastered
oneverynewspaperandmagazinecoverformonths.
WhenhecamebackfromAfghanistan,Americafawned
overhimandheletitgotohishead.Hesoldhisheroic
soultoHollywoodandbecamenothingmorethan
fodderfortheseshows.Ihadseenafewofhismovies.

Hewasadecentactorandrathergoodlooking,butthat’s
whereitstopped.Hehadquicklybecometypecastinthe
samerolesthemovieshadkeptgettingworseandworse.

That’sjustmyopinion,anyway.Iwasmoreofa

ChrisEvanskindofgirl.Notthathe’snecessarilythe
bestactorintheworldeither,butthat’sbesidethepoint.

TheshowwastellingthestoryofhowDevlinStone

hadbeenmissingforroughlysixweeks.He’dlastbeen
seenattheredcarpetpremiereofKillingFloorandhad
thensimplydisappeared.AubreyHenning,anactressthat
wasafewdecentrolesawayfrombecominga
Hollywoodmainstay,wasthelastpersontohaveseen
him.Astheshowplayedaclipofthetwoofthem
kissingontheredcarpet,therewasavoiceoverfrom
theactresswhereshesoundedbothirritatedandsad.

ThereporterwrappedupandIwasratherdisgusted

thatIfoundmyselfintriguedbythestory.“Withhis
agentandclosestfriendsunabletocontacthim,it's
lookinglikethiswon'tconcludewithahappyending,”
thereportersaid.“Hisaccountantiskeepinganeyeon
hisfinances,hopingthatactivitymightcluesomeonein
astowhereDevlinStonecouldbe.Andwearecertainly
hopingforthebest.Moreonthisfascinatingstoryasit
develops.”

Rollingmyeyes,IshutofftheTV.Probablya

publicitystunt,Ithought.Ofcourse,Iwasn’tbeingfair
toDevlinStone.Iwasholdinghimtothestandardsof
othermilitarymenIhadknown:mygrandfather,my
father,andmybrother.

Mybrotherhaddiedincombat.Itwasoneofthe

reasonsmydivorcehasbeensobrutal.Ilotmybrother
andmyhusbandwithinelevenmonthsofoneanother.
Granted,Ioftenwishedithadbeenmyex-husbandthat
wouldhavecaughtthebulletinthechestinsteadofmy
brother,buttheywerejustasequallygonetome.

Angry,Itoyedwiththeideaofgettinganotherglass

ofwinebeforeIwenttobed.Idecidedagainstit,though.
Isatinbedforawhile,readingabookaboutthehistory
ofIceland(itwasresearchformynovel)untilmyeyes
startedtoburn.

Ishutoffmylampandlayinbedlisteningtothelack

ofsoundinmyemptyhouse.Ithoughtofmybrother,as
IusuallydidwheneverIwassadorupsetaboutanything.
He’dbeenfouryearsyoungerthanmeandthelasttimeI
hadseenhimbeforehedied,we’dhadanargument.

Ithoughtofhim,allsmilesandthatonelittledimple

inhisleftcheek.Imissedhimterribly.That,coupled
withtheemptysideofthebednexttome,mademefeel

miserable.Itmademewanttojustsinkdownintothe
sheetsanddrown.You’dthinkfouryearswouldbe
enoughtogetusedtoanemptybedandthatnearlyfive
yearswouldbeenoughtogetoveradeadbrother,butit
wasn't.Idon'tthinktherewasenoughtimetogetover
mybrother…ever.

Somethingswerebeyondgettingusedto.Morethan

anything,IthinkIneededafriend–someoneIcould
confidein,evenashouldertocryon.Livinginoneof
themostremotecornersofthecountrydidn'thelp
matters,butIwouldneverleaveSitka.Alaskahad
definedme,ashadthehorrideventsofthelastfive
years.

Ireflectedonmylifeandtheturnsithadtaken.The

onlythingthatkeptmefromsubmittingtototalmisery
anddepressionwastheideathatIwasnotyetfinished
beingdefined.

ThatthoughtclickedinmyheadasIdriftedoffto

sleepand,forsomereason,pulledupanimageofMr.
Tanner ’sbluefloatplane.I’mprettysureIfellasleep
withasmileonmyface.

6—Devlin

Six-thirtyinthemorning.Cool,crispairfilledmy

lungsasIcrestedthetopofalong,straightstretchof
trailandcametothetopofahillintheforest.The
sunriselookedlikesomethingoutofoneofthe
romanticfilmsI’dbeenintwoyearsago,bathing
everythinginyellowandgoldtones,fromthesnowy
topsofthefjordstothegentlecrestsontheocean.I
stopped,takingamomenttoappreciatethesheer
magnitudeofthemorning.Istoodmotionless,soaking
inthelightandthefactthatalthoughtheremightbe
otherhikersonthisparticulartrail,IfeltlikeIwasthe
onlypersonaroundwithinmiles.Itwasoneofthose
breath-takingmomentsthatmakeyoutrulyfeelluckyto
bealive.

Realitywasthatmycabinandalloftheothercabins

onMooseHillwerelessthantwomilesbehindme.Ihad
setoutatfiveo’clockwithalargebackpackandthemap
ofhikingtrailsIhadgottenfromThePineWaytheday
before.Ihadspentthepreviousnightpouringoverthe
mapsandthoughtIhadadecentrouteselected.Myplan
wastoreachaplacecalledCatchman’sOverlookbysix
o’clockandsetupasmalltent.Iwouldsleepthere
tonightandthenwalkbacktoMooseHill.

Itwouldbeanicelittletwodayexcursion.Mycabin

offeredsolitude,sure,buttherewasnothinglikebeing
outinthewildernessbymyself.Ihadsomeexperience
withit,havinggoneonafewcampingtripswithsome
friendsincollege.Andofcourse,therehadafewnights
ofroughingitinsomelessthandesirablelocaleswhileI
hadservedinthearmy.Comparedtotherugged
Afghanistanlandscape,theAlaskanwildernesswasa
pieceofcake.

Iwasn’texactlysurewhatitwasaboutsolitudethat

soappealedtome.IwascertainthatIdidmybest
thinkingwhilealone;infact,I’mprettysurethat’showit
workswithmostpeople.Ialwaysheardaboutpeople
goingsomewhereisolatedtogetintouchwith
themselves.I’dalwaysfoundtheideacheesybut,deep
down,thoughttheremightbesomethingtoit.Figuringit
wasworthashot,IthoughtImightaswellseewhatsort
ofinnerinsightsIcouldcometowhilealoneinthe
Alaskanwoods.

Acoupleofyearsago,Ireadthatsomefamouspoet

hadgoneintotheforestandsimplysatdown,unmoving
fortwelvehours,takingitallin.WhileIdidn’tquite
planongoingtosuchextremes,Ididfindthetask
admirable.

Withinanhourofstartingmytrek,Ifounditboth

coolandeeriethatthereweresomanyhikingtrailsin
thesewoods.Manyofthemskirtedwiththeedgesof
severalcliffsthatlookedoutintothesea.Otherwove
deepintotheheartoftheforestwheretheymeandered
intoseveralothertrails.WhileIhadn’ttakenthetimeto
counteachandeveryoneofthemap,Iwouldbetthat
hereweremorethanfortyinall.

Ittookawhile,butIfinallyclearedmymind.I

wasn’tthinkingaboutagentsoropeningnightsorcute
actresses.Ialsowasn’tthinkingaboutthelureandlights
thatHollywoodhadsnaredmewithwhenthatfirst
moviestudiohadcomecallingtwomonthsaftermyfirst
televisioninterviewaboutmyso-calledheroicsin
Afghanistan.

Iguesstosomeoneontheoutsidelookingin,whatI

didprobablydidseemheroic.ButIhadahardtime
thinkingofitthatway.Ifittrulyhadbeenheroic,Iwould
havedonemore,evengivemylife,sothatatleastoneof
myteamcouldhaveescapedthathellonearth.

Flashbacksstillhauntedmeaboutthatday—about

thathellishfortyminutesofmylife—overandover
again.Aubreyknewalittlebitaboutit,butIhadn’tgone
intogreatdetail.Allsheknewwaswhatshehadseenon
thenews;shehadseenthesamestorythattherestofthe

Americanpublichadseen.

Thegistofit,accordingtotheprettylittleAmerican

networknewsspin,wentlikethis:acovertArmy
operationwassetinmotiontorescueadozenchildren
fromaschoolthatpartiallycollapsedduetotheongoing
warintheregion.Ingettingtotheareawheretheschool
waslocated,aroadsidebombhadobliteratedoneofthe
threetruckscarryingthesoldiers,knockingtheoriginal
twenty-onetroopsdowntoascanttwelve.Thosemen
sweptintotheschooltorescuethechildren.Alltwenty-
fourschoolchildrenhadbeenrescuedbut,inthe
process,allbutoneoftheAmericansoldiershaddied.

ThatlonesoldierhadbeenDevlinStone,me,an

unremarkableyoungmanfromMainethatbarelymade
itoutofhighschoolwithnointentofgoingtocollege.
Tome,thestoryseemedunremarkableuptothatpoint.
Howmanyothersoldiershaddiedsimplydoingtheir
jobs?ItwaswhenIwentbackintothesmoldering
rubbletosweepforsurvivorsfrommyteamthatmade
theheadlines.

Thatwasthedetailthemediahadharpedon.Ithadn’t

beenthetwenty-fourkidsbeingrescued—theheroism,
theyclaimwaswhenIwentbackintothelineoffire
(catchingabulletinmyshoulderandonebelowmy
collarboneasaresult)tolookforsurvivors.Ifound

oneofmyteammatesalmostcompletelycoveredin
debrisbuthewassobadlywoundedthathediedbefore
receivingpropermedicalattention.

Thehazeofthatmissionsweptthroughmyheadlike

astrongwindinthedesert.Somuchforhavingmymind
clearedtoenjoythescenery.

Itwasgood,though.Ineededtogetitallout.Itwas

sortoflikesweatingduringaworkout.Yougetagood
rhythmgoing,getyourexercisein,andthenbreaka
sweattoreleaseallthenastytoxinsinyourbody.
Perhapsthiswasmyversionoftherapy.Only,rather
thantoxinsandsweat,Iwastryingtoridmyselfofthe
memoriesanddecisionsthathauntedme.

Istoppedalongtheedgeofoneofthetrailsby

seasidecliffsandhadalunchthatconsistedofgraham
crackers,twoGoBars,andwater.WhenIunwrappedthe
GoBars,IrememberedthecutewomanatThePineWay
—Mac,hernamehadbeen.

That’sgottobeshortforsomething,right?I

wondered.MaybeIneedtomakeapointtoaskher.

Itwasanicethought,forsure.Notknowinganything

aboutawomanmadeitmucheasiertoassumethings
abouther.AsImunchedontheGoBars,Iwonderedwhat

sortofdateMacwouldlike.Whatsortofmusicdidshe
like?Whatwereherhobbies?

Itmightbenicetohaveaconversationwithawoman

thatdidn’thavealloftheAmericanpublic,notto
mentionreportersandthepaparazzi,eatingoutofher
hand.Icouldn'trememberthelasttimeIhada
conversationwithawomanthatwascaughtupinthe
glitzandglamorofTinselTown.Datinghadbeenoutof
thequestionwhenIwassnaredbyHollywood.The
tabloidmagazinesannoyedmeenoughalready.Ihadno
desiretowinduponthecoverofthatcrapsimply
becauseIwenttohaveThaifoodwithawomanIwas
sortofinterestedin.Nothanks.

AubreyhadbeentheclosestIhadcometodating.At

first,I’dstartedseeingherbecause,quitehonestly,it
strokedmyego.ItwasnicetoknowthatIcouldstill
managetolandawomantenyearsyoungerthanme.I
keptseeingher,unofficially,becauseshewashot.She
gracedthecoverofMaximearlierintheyearandithad
soldmorecopiesthananyothereditionofthemagazine
inthelasttenyears.Shewasgorgeousand,whenthe
camerasweren’tflashing,actuallyverysmart.

Butshedidherbesttoplaytothoseclichéd

Hollywoodstereotypes.Hollywooddidn’twanttoseea
smartandstrongwomanthatlookedlikeAubreydid.

Sheknewthisanditdidn'tbotherhertoplaythepart.
Shelovedthefameandattention.Andthatwaswhy,in
theend,Ijustcouldn’tbringmyselftodateher.

WithAubreyinmymind,Iclearedmylittlepicnic,

putthetrashinmybackpack,andstartedbackdownthe
trails.Itwasoneo’clockandIwaswellonmywayto
makingittoCatchman’sOverlookbysix.

Icontinuedon,takinginthetreesandthewide

expanseofskyoverhead.IbreathedinthecrispAlaskan
air,doingeverythingIcouldtoclearmymind.Itwas
muchharderthanIexpected.InonecornerofmyheadI
hadtherotarybladesofhelicoptersandthepinging
noisesofgunfirefromaschoolroomwalls;intheother
corner,thereweretheflashbulbsandperfectlysculpted
bodiesofHollywood.

Still,therewerebrightspotsduringmywalk.There

weresingingbirdsandthetuneofaswiftly-flowing
creek.Thescentofpineandsoilwereborderline
overwhelmingandtotallyrefreshing.Andfinally,asthe
eveningwounddownandIfoundmyselfwalkinginthe
fouro’clockshadowsoftheforest,Imanaged
disconnectfromeverything.

Itwasjustmeandtheforest…andItookinever

singlebit.

****

Catchman’sOverlookwasreallynothingspecial—

orsoIthoughtatfirst.Ireacheditatjustbeforesixo’
clock.Mylegsweretiredandmybackwasgettingsore
fromcarryingthebackpack,soIwasgladtofinallysee
it.Asmallsignhadbeenpostedonatree,thenameof
theoverlookchiseledintoit.

Isetmytentuptwentyfeetawayfromtheedge,off

ofthepathandinasmallgrovebetweenagroupoffirs
andalders.Therewasnoneedforafirejustyet;the
temperaturehadn’tyetdroppedenoughandIhadatleast
anotherforty-fiveminutesofdaylight.Still,Igathered
somescantfirewood,likingthesimplicityofthetask
andthatIwasdoingitbymyself.

Whenthetimecametobuildthefire,Ilookedatthe

maponelasttime,wonderingiftherewassomeshorter
waybackhome.Thewalktodayhadbeengreatand
refreshing,butifIcouldshaveanhourorsooffof
tomorrow’shike,I’dbeahappyman.Themapmademe
thinkofMaconceagain.Shewasquitebeautiful,even
inherevery-daysortofclothes.Cuteface,glossyblack
hair…andherbody.Iespeciallylovedthewayher
jeanshuggedherlegsandass.Itriedtorememberthe
lasttimeI'dbeenwithawomanandfoundmyself
drawingablank.Itmighthavebeenawaitressfroma
filmlocation...maybe.Isighed.

“Waytoodamnedlong,”Imutteredtomyself.Itwas

timetomakeachange.IdecidedtovisitThePineWay
againassoonasIcould.Iwasn’tsureifI’daskherout
(hell,Ididn’tevenknowifshewasmarried,dating,or
what),buttherewasonlyonewaytofindoutifany
avenueswereavailable.

IfoldedthemapbackupandwhenIsliditbackinto

thebackpack,IsawforthefirsttimewhyCatchman’s
Overlookhadgottenitsownlittlelistingonthetrail
map.

Asthesunset,itlookedlikeitwasliterallymelting

intotheocean.Therewasaperfectgradientofcolors,
fromredtoorange,toyellow,thatlookedlikeithad
beenpaintedspecificallyforthispartoftheworld.It
dancedandshimmeredovertheoceaninawaythat
madeithardtoseewherethatportionofthehorizon
endedandtheseabegan.Itwaslikealivingpainting,and
itwashardashelltolookawayfromit.

Iwatchedthesurrealsceneinfrontofmeuntilthe

lastraysofthesunwereovertakenbydusk,thewater
becomingamurkysortofpurpleasthenightcamein.
RealizingthatIhadwastedfifteenminutesbysimply
staringatthesunset,Iputtogetherasmall,amateur
campfire.OnceIhadthefiregoing,Iencircleditwith

stonesIfoundnearbytokeepanystrayflamesfrom
gettingaway,andthensatdownfordinner.

DinnerwasabitmoreextravagantthanthelunchI’d

had.IatetwopeanutbutterandjellysandwichesImade
atthecabinbeforeleaving,aswellasabananaandafew
grapes.Iwasheditdownwithabottleofwaterandthen
pulledouttheflaskofJameson.

Theflask,liketheclothesandcampinggear,hadall

beenpurchasedafterthemovetoSitka.ThenightIleft
NewYork,Ihadtakennothingwithmeexceptthe
clothesonmyback.Aweekaftergettingintothecabin
onMooseHill,I’dcalledmyapartmentmanagerinLA
andtoldhimtohavemyclothesshippedtoarandom
address(whichIhadnotyetvisitedtopickupmy
packages)andtofeelfreetosellthefurnitureandputthe
apartmentupforlease.

I’ddippedprettyheavilyintomypersonalsavingsto

getmylifeinSitkastarted.Itdidn’tbothermemuch
anymore,though.AsIsatunderthemoonlightinthe
forests,sippingfrommyflask,Istartedtocarelessand
lessthatsomeone—beitAdamorAubrey—might
eventuallyfindmehereinAlaska.Still,Ididn’t
necessarilywanttoinvitethatsortofheadache,either.I
wasprettysureIknewhowIcouldgettothemoneyin
myprimaryaccount…theonewithmorethaneight

milliondollarsinit.

Iwasgoingtotakeachanceandgiveitatry.Ithink

itwasthedamnedblueplanethathelpedmemusterup
themotivation.Iwasexcitedtoonceagainusethepilot’s
licenseI’dacquiredduringsomedowntimeduringmy
basictraining.Lookingouttotheforestcloakedin
darkness,Ithoughtitwouldbeaprettylucrative
businesstobeabletoflyadventurersandweekend
warriorsoutintotheAlaskanwilds.Afterawhile,onceI
becamemorefamiliarwiththeplace,maybeIcouldalso
actasatourguideofsorts.

Suddenlyexcitedaboutthefuture,Icrawledintomy

tentshortlyafternineo’clock.Ilistenedtothesoundsof
thewoods—thesighingbranches,ahootingowl
somewhereinthedistance,andawindthatbarely
brushedthesideofmytent.

Ithoughtaboutthefloatplaneandmakingaliving

outhereinSitka.IthoughtofMac,thecuteand
unsuspectingproprietorofThePineWay.Ithoughtof
thetwolivesIhadalreadylivedtothispointandfound
myselfincrediblyanxioustotrulystartthethirdone.

7—Mac

IwashavingwhatIlikedtocallaCrosswordkindof

day.Thosearethedayswhenbusinessattheshopisso
slowthatIspendmostofmytimedoingcrossword
puzzlestopassthetime.Forthelastfiveyearsorso,
overhalfofourbusinessconsistedofonlineorders
whichmeantthatallIhadtodowasboxtheitemup,slap
ashippinglabelonit,andsenditoff.

TheonlyrealreasonThePineWaymanagedtoexist

asaphysicalstoreatallwasforthetouriststhatcamein
fromtimetotime.Therewereafewloyallocalsaswell,
buttheyonlymadeupaboutfifteenpercentofour
business.

ThiswaswhyIwassocaughtupontheideaof

buyingthefloatplane.Withtheplane,Icouldintroduce
anentirelynewfacettoThePineWay—onethatmy
fatherhadmentionedoffhandedlyintheseveralyearshe
hadtakenmeunderhiswing.IlikedtothinkthatifI
managedtogettheplaneandmakeasuccessfulventure
offlyingtouristsouttogreatfishingspotsandoff-the-
beaten-pathhikinglocales,I’dbebringingadreamof
histofruition.Dadhadbeeninthegraveforalmostfive
yearsnow,butIstillsawThePineWayashisstore.

Ofcourse,therewereholdupsatthebank,not

lettingmepurchasetheplaneasquicklyasIcould.
AccordingtotheguyIwasworkingwith,themoney
wouldbeminewithinforty-eighthours.Myonlyhope
wasthattheotherinterestedpartywashavingthesame
sortsofcomplications.Iwastemptedtojustsiphon
someofthefundsfromtheshop’smoneybutitwould
goagainstthefinancialpracticesthatmyfatherhadlived
byandIwasn’tabouttodisgracehismemoryinsucha
way.

Sotobusymyself,Iwasattemptingtocompletethe

crosswordinthebackofthelocalpaper.Iwastryingto
figureoutanineletterwordforlovewhenIheardthe
littlebelloverthefrontdoorjingle.Ilookedupandsaw
themanthathadcomeintwodaysago.

Ismiledasmyheartskippedabeat.“Heythere.

Jack,right?”Iasked.Iwasbeingcoy;Irememberedhis
name.

“That’sright,Mac,”hesaidwithasmile.Thegood-

lookingmanmadehiswaytothecounterandlooked
aroundpassively,asifhewasn’tquitesurewhathewas
doingthere.Iwatchedhimforamoment,notingthe
wayhemoved.

“I’mrelievedtoseeyou,”shesaid.“Iwasafraidour

Alaskanwildsmightgetthebetterofyou.”

“Oh,Icanhandlemyselfinthewilderness,”hesaid

withaconfidentgrinthatmademyinsidespur.

“Didyouhavefun?”Iasked.

“Idid.Itwassortofcooltogetlostoutinthewoods

foradayorso.ImadeitallthewaytoCatchman’s
Overlookandcamped.Itwasbeautiful.”

“Wow,thatwasquiteahike!”

Henoddedcasually.“Ihopetodoitagainsoon.”

“Ambitioushiker.Ilikethat,”Isaidwithasmileas

hisbigbrowneyesliftedtome.“SowhatcanIdofor
youtoday?”Iasked.

“IwantedtogetsomemoreofthoseGoBars.Those

thingsaredelicious—unlikemostofthoseotherhealthy
naturebarsthattastelikecardboard.”

“Yeah,they’vebeensellingprettywell.Ijustputa

fewnewboxesout.”Ipointedtotheaislebehindhimand
totheleft.Heglancedovertotheminanalmost
reluctantway,andtossedmeasexy,boyishgrin.Maybe

hehadn’tcomeherejustfortheGoBarsafterall?Agirl
couldonlyhope...

Still,Iguesshefeltobligatedatthatpoint.Hewalked

overtotheaislewhereIkeptnutritionalsupplements,
granola,powerbars,andthelike.HeeyedtheGoBar
selectionforawhileandthenseemedtorandomlypicka
few.Ashedidallofthis,Ifinallygotachancetogive
himalook-overwithoutbeingtooobvious.

Hisdark-blondehairwasslightlyunkempt,butnotin

anever-been-washedsortofway.Itseemedtohavethat
messyqualitythatusuallyshoweduponmagazine
covers,the'Ididn'ttrybutIdid'lookthatmostguys
couldn’tpulloff.Bothhishairandhisgoateewerein
needofatrim,butitwasn’ttoobad.

Hist-shirt,whileloose-fitting,emphasizedhis

amazingupperbody.MosthikersIsawcomeintoThe
PineWaywereusuallyratherslim,yetfit.ButJack
lookedasifhemadeahabitofhittingupaweightroom
fairlyoften.Myeyesroamedgreedilyoverhisbroad
shouldersanddownhismuscularback.DearLord,what
wouldhelooklikewithoutashirton?HowIcouldusea
nightalonewithhim…Goosebumpsroseuponmy
armsasIreveledinmynaughtythoughts.

JackturnedbacktowardsthecounterandIlooked

awayquickly,myeyesgoingbacktothecrossword
puzzle.AsIdid,Iheardthebelloverthedoorjingle
again.IfrownedasAmberDawsonsteppedthroughthe
door.Shewasdressedinacutesweaterandpantsthat
werefartootight.Shehadonapairofthose
ridiculouslylargesunglassesthatsomehowlooked
absolutelybeautifulonher.

Ihatedherinthatmoment.AndIknewthatIwould

hateherevenmorewhenJack’sattentionwould
predictablyshiftfrommetoher.But,justasIexpected
hertorushuptoJackandinitiateapointless
conversation,somethingamazinghappened.Forabrief
moment,oureyesmet.Ambertookinthesituationand
smiled.PointingatJack,whowasfacingawayfromher,
shemouthed“omghe'shot.”

MyeyesflickedtoJack,whowascompletely

oblivious,andthenbacktoAmber.Forthefirsttime,I
actuallysmiledather.ShesawthatIwasinthemiddleof
anawkwardconversationwithamanthatshehadnever
seenbeforeandwasgivingmespace.Shesteppedtothe
sideandpretendedtofindsomethingofinterestinthe
rockclimbingsectionofthestore,farawaytotheback.
MaybeAmberisn'tsobadafterall...

Jacksatthebarsnexttotheregisterslowly,asifhe

weretryingtothinkofsomethingtosay.Myinsides

twirledlikeavortexofbutterflies.Ishegoingtoaskme
out?Finally,whenthelastGoBarwasonthecounter,he
foundthewordshewaslookingfor.

“HaveyoueverbeentoCatchman’sOverlook?”he

asked.Damn.

“Once,”Isaid.“Afewyearsback.I’mreallynot

muchofalong-distancehiker.”

“Rockclimber?”heasked.

“No.”

Hetwistedhisheadandthought.“Runner?”

“Wrongagain.”

“Itseemsoddthatyou’dbetheproprietorofaplace

likethis,then,”hesaidwithaboyishgrin.

“Itwasmyfather ’splace,”Irespondedwithaproud

smile.“IusedtohelphimherewhenIwasateenager
andIfellinlovewithit.ItwasallIeverwantedtodo
evenafterIwenttocollege.”

“Ah,”henoddedslightly.“Irevokemyprevious

statementthen.”

“Noworries.”

Jackeyedmeforamoment,stillsmiling,andthenan

awkwardsilencefellbetweenus,onethatIdidnotlet
extendanyfurtherthanithadto.Istartedtoringuphis
GoBars,goingasslowasIcouldinthehopesthathe
mightpicktheconversationupagain.AsIscannedthe
barsacrossthescanner,itoccurredtomethatthiswas
thefirsttimesincemydivorcethatIhadspokentoaman
inawaythatmightleadto…well,tosomething.

Itwasbothmonumentalandterrifyingallatthesame

time.

ThesilencemademeveryawareofAmberDawson

inthebackofthestore.Iwassureshewas
eavesdropping.Therefore,Iwasn’tabouttobetheone
totakethenextstep.Ifoundmyselfthinking,asiftrying
topushsomesortoftelepathicmessageacrosstoJack:
Askmeoutalready!Atleastaskformynumber!

“Headingbackoutthereagainanytimesoon?”I

asked.

“Idon’tknow.Probably.”

Ihadanotherquestionattheready,butdidn’twantto

seemtooobvious.Itwasonthetopofmytongue,butI
managedtoswallowit.AnditwasagoodthingIdid,
becausehealmostcrossedthelineIwashopinghe
wouldcrosswithhisnextquestion.

“SO,areyouhereeveryday?”

“Yeah,”Isaidwithashrug.“It’saglamorouslife.”I

tossedmyhairovermyshoulderinateasingsortof
way,indicativeofastarletattheOscars.

Henoddedandsmiledatme,payingcashforhis

items.God,thisguyishotassin.Wow.Hismodel-
worthysmilecouldlightuparoomandmeltpantiesoff
ofanyhot-bloodedwoman,includingmine.Ihanded
himthepapersackwithasteadyhand,refusingtogive
intothesex-crazedmonstersuddenlylurkinginmy
brain.

“ThenI'mquitesureI'llbebacksoon,”hesaid

softly,makingsuretoholdmyeyes.OhJesusChrist!
Myinsidescompletelymeltedintosomeoddmixture
seeminglyconsistingofrunnyoatmealandpop-rocks.
“Bye,fornow.”

“Later,Jack.”

Weheldeyecontactforanothertwosecondsbefore

heturnedaround.Hiseyesweredarkbrown,almost
chocolate.Butdespitethelackofcolor,therewasalot
goingoninthem.Hehadoneofthosestaresthatwas
beyondexpressive.Icouldtotallygetlostinthosedeep
poolsofchocolate.

Whenheturnedaway,Ifrowned.AmberDawson

slowlywalkeddowntheaisletowardsme,hiddenfrom
Jackbytwodisplayracks.Shefrozeattheedgeofitas
Jackopenedthedoorandturnedbacktome.Hegaveme
adazzlingsmile,awave,andthenhewasgone.Oh,
goodGod!

Amberwastednotimeincomingtothecounter.She

gavemeanevilgrinandnodded.“Ifyoudon’tmindmy
sayingso,thatguyisbeyondhot.”

“Isupposesomepeoplemightthinkso,”Isaidtrying

tosoundprofessionaltoavoidalengthyconversation
whichIwaspositivewouldturntomylovelife.

“Please.Allpeople,”shesaid,flippingherradiant

hairbackwithasmile.“Ican’trememberthelasttimeI
sawyouspeaktoamanforthatlong.AndIdon’tknow
ifyouareawareofitornot,butyouwerelookingat
himlikeyouwereastarvingbearandhewasapieceof
meat.”

Igasped.“Iwasnot!”

Amberbeamed,noddingandgrabbingmyarm

lightly.“Oh,youtotallywere!Butsowashe!Seriously,
Mac,youneedtogetoutandplay.Whenhecomesback
inandasksyouout,youbettersayyesandhavesome
fun.”

Ilookedatherforamomentthenthedoorofmy

shop.

“Hewillaskyououtthenexttimehe'sin,”shesaid,

noddingtothefrontofthestore.“Soobvious.”

“We’llsee.”

“Andwhenhedoes,”Ambersaid,ignoringmy

doubt,“youdamnwellbetteraccept.Letthisbeyour
warning:ifyouletthatmangetawaywithoutatleast
samplinghisskillsinbed,I’mgoingtopounce.”

Ofcourseyouare.

Isighedandthengaveheranexasperatedlook.“Is

thatwhyyoucameintoday?Todiscussmylovelife?
Youdidn'tseemtoointerestedinthatrock-climbing
gear.”

Shelaughed.“No,andnoIwasn't–haterock-

climbing.IsawthatguywalkinwhenIwasacrossthe
streetandfollowedhiminbecauseIwantedtointroduce
myself.ButthenIsawthatyoutwowereonthevergeof
something,soIbackedoff.”

“Wellthanks.”

“Welcome.”Sheshruggedandsmiled.

Webothsnickeredabitatthisandithelpedmeto

realizethatIhadn’tbeensoexcitedandhopefulinquite
sometime.Firsttherewasthepossibilityofacquiring
thefloatplaneandnowtherewasthepossibilityofa
manbeinginthepicture,andoneofthebestlooking
menI'deverseenatthat!

Thingswerefinallystartingtolookbrightinmy

littleworld.

****

Iclosedupfortyminuteslater,headedoutformy

lunchbreak.AfterAmberleft,IdecidedthatifIhadtoI
wasgoingtoofferMr.Tannerasizabledepositonthe
planejusttosecureitandlethimknowthatIwas
serious.Yeah,hesaidhehadalreadyturnedadeposit
downfromtheotherpersonthatwasinterestedinit,butI
figureditcouldn’thurtmychances.

Itwasadecisionthathadbeenmadepartlybecause

mymoodhadshiftedtosomethingclosetobliss.I
couldn’tremembereverhavingbeensoexcitedand
hopeful—atleastnotinthelastthreeorfouryears,
anyway.ButIsupposeitisbettertomakedecisions
basedonthemotivatingfactorofagoodmoodrather
thanabadone.

IreachedTanner ’sFreshFishandlookedouttothe

waterbehindthestore.Thefloatplanestillsatthere,the
propellercatchingthelightthatbouncedfromthe
gently-sloshingwater.Warmthradiatedthroughmy
body,nottoodissimilarfromthewayIhadfeltwhen
Jackhadprolongedtheeyecontactinthestoreearlier.

Jeez,Mac,Ithoughttomyself.Yousoundlikesome

crazylittlelove-struckteenagegirl.

Good,Icountered.IthinkIdeserveitafterallI’ve—

ThatlastthoughtwascutshortwhenInoticed

somethingdifferentabouttheplane.

ThebannerwithFORSALEwasnolongerstrapped

tothepropellers.

Igaspedasaheavyweightlandedonmyheart.It

broughttomindoldcartoonswhereapianofellfrom
somegreatheightandcrushedanunsuspecting
bystanderonthestreetbelow.Istoodthereforatleast
thirtyseconds,startingattheplacewherethebannerhad
beenstrung.PerhapsMr.Tannerhadtakenitdown
becauseheknewhowbadlyIwanteditandwassavingit
forme.

Right.

Iknewthatwasn’ttrue;itwasjustanaïvethought

thatwastryingtosparemefromdisappointment.

Steelingupmycourage,IwalkedintoTanner ’s

FreshFish.Mr.Tannersawmerightawayashewas
behindthecounter,wipingdownoneofhiselectronic
scaleswhereIhadwatchedhimweightnumerousfishin
thepast.Helookedpainedtoseeme,likeamanguiltyof
somethingthathewasn’tquitecertainof.Crap.

“Heythere,Mac,”hesaid.Evenhisvoicebetrayed

him.HeknewthatIwasgoingtobedisappointed.Itwas
achildishthingtothink,butIsortofhopedthathewould
beuncomfortableandmaybeevenfeelbad.Thatis,of
course,ifhehadsoldtheplaneinthefirstplace.

“Thebannerisgone,”Isaidsimply.“Didyousellit

totheotherparty?”

Helookedawayfrommeandnodded.“Idid.I’m

sorry.ButIwastryingtoplayafairgame,youknow?”

“Fairhow?”Iasked.Iheardthepoutinessinmy

voicebutIdidnothingtocontainit.

“Wellnow,whenhecameinwithhismoney,Itold

himthatIhadsomeoneelsethatwasinterestedinthe
plane,too.Heofferedmeanotherfivethousanddollars
ifI’dsealthedealrightthereonthespot.I'msorry,
Mac.”

IfeltlikeIhadbeenpunchedinthestomach.Justlike

that,intheblinkofaneye,myhopefuldayhadmorphed
intooneofhurtanddisappointment.Iwantedtolashout
atMr.TannerbutknewthatIreallydidn’thaveanyright.
Hell,Iwouldhavedonethesamething.Fivethousand
dollarswasn’tanythingtosneezeat,especiallywhenyou
wereayearortwoawayfromretirementlikeMr.
Tanner.

Apparently,Istoodthere,silentandfrowningfortoo

long.Mr.Tannerfiddlednervouslybehindthecounter,
wringinghiscleaningragbehindthefreshlycleaned
scale.“Ireallyamsorry,”hesaid.

“It’sokay,”Isaid.“Iunderstand.”

Mr.Tannershrugged.“Youneverknow…ifyou

reachouttohim,maybehe’llsellittoyou.Heseemed
sortoflikeyou—hehadaplanforitthatIdon’tthinkhe
wasonehundredpercentsureabout.”

Itfeltlikealongshot,butIwasn’taboutgiveupso

easily.Iapproachedthecounterandsaid,“youdon’t
thinkthey’dmindyougivingmehisnumber?”

“Iwouldn’tthinkso.Andifso,theycantakeitup

withme.”

IwatchedasMr.Tannergrabbedapenfrombehind

hisregisterandstartedjottingsomethingdownona
pieceofscrapbutcher ’spaper.Iknewhewasgoingto
thislengthsbecausehesimplydidn’twanttosendme
awaytotallydevastated.Andquitehonestly,inthat
moment,Iwasfinewiththat.

Hefinishedupandhandedthepieceofpapertome.I

barelylookedatitbeforeIpocketed.

“Heseemedlikeaniceenoughfella,”Mr.Tanner

said.“Ifeelcertainthathe’datleastentertainthenotion.
He’snewtotownandhasacabinuponMooseHill.”

Iblinkedafewtimesinrapidsuccession.Noway…I

thought.Ireachedintomypocketandtookoutthepaper.
AsIreadit,Mr.TannervoicedwhatIfeared.

“HisnameisJack.Notsureaboutthelastname.”

EverythinginsideofmedeflatedandIthoughtI

mightactuallyscreamrightthereandtheninthemiddle
ofTanner ’sFreshFish.

“Thankyou,”Isaidabsently,turningtowardsthe

door.

“Youokay?”Mr.TanneraskedasIwalkedaway.

No.“Yessir,”Isaid.

Butbythetimethedoorclosedbehindme,Iwas

nearlyintears.

8—Devlin

Here’stheweirdthingaboutbeingamoviestarthat

quicklybecomesaccustomedtohavingawell-sculpted
body:youstarttomissthegym.Iknewthattherewere
twogymsitSitka,butIwasn’tquitereadyto“join”
anythingjustyet.Tojoinagymandgetamembership
impliedsomethingsolidandpermanent.Stillnotcertain
astowhereImightgonext—orifImightendupstaying
inSitkaforthelongterm—Ididn’twanttojoinagym.

Instead,Imadesomesubstitutes.Iinstalledasingle

metalbaronthecabin’sbackporchwallforpull-ups
andextendedcrunches.Forweights,Ihadrocksand
bricksIhadcollectedfromtheedgeoftheproperty,
stuffedintosmallpillowcases.Butmorethananything,I
usedthenaturalshapesandsurfacesofthebackporch
andtheground.ItgotmeintoaRockysortofmindset,
workingoutinaratheroldschoolway.Ispentaboutan
houreachdayonthebackporch,runningthrougha
seriesofexercisesthatmytrainerhadshowedmea
whileback.

Thesewereexercisesthatcouldbedoneinmotel

roomswhenmyscheduledidn’tallowformetohitup
thegym.Itwasmostlycardiostuffwithsomeprimitive

sit-upsandpush-upsthrownin.Doingitoutside,with
thatwideopenandbeautifulAlaskanskyoverhead,was
atremendousexperience.Nogymwalls,notrainer
eyeingmetomakesureIwasmeetingthedirector ’s
specs,nootherhuffingandpuffinggymmembers
aroundme…itwasgreat!

Iwasapparentlynotputtinginenoughtime…or

maybeeatingabitmorethanIshould.Ihadgainednine
poundssincearrivinginSitkaanditseemedlikethat
weightjustwasn’tgoingtocomeoff.Ithoughtabout
thisasIranthroughaseriesofcrunchesontheback
porchandlaughed.Theguysbackinthearmywould
givemeatonofshitaboutmeworryingaboutmy
weight.ApparentlyIwasnowoneofthoseguys.

Fromtimetotime,IfeltlikeIhadbetrayedeveryone

IservedwithbygoingHollywood.Thiswasespecially
trueofthetwelvementhatdiedaroundmeonthedayI
managedtosurviveandbecameanunexpectedhero.It
wassomethingIhadnevertrulydealtwith—something
thatmyHollywoodpsychiatristhadlikedtopointoutall
ofthetime.

Allofthiswasracingthroughmyheadastheburn

fromthecrunchedfinallystartedtosetin.Ifocusedon
thesethingsandtookindeepbreathsofthecrisp,clean
air.

AsIwrappedupthecrunches,Iheardthephone

ringingfrominside.Notmanypeopleknewmynumber
outhereinSitka,soIfigureditwaseitherMr.Tanner
withsomesortofinformationontheplaneormaybethe
bank,withmorequestionsaboutthetransferIhadmade
frommyprimaryaccounttomysecondaryaccount
yesterday.

Shirtlessandwithanicesweatworkedup,Iwalked

intothecabinandgrabbedthephoneonthefourthring.
Itfeltweirdtobeansweringanactualphone…onethat
waspluggedintothewall.

“Hello”Isaid.

“Hi,Jack?”

Itwasawoman’svoice,butcertainlynotthatofthe

olderladythathadhelpedmeatthebank.

“Yes,thisisJack,”Isaid.Ithoughttomyself,justfor

amoment,Crap.IbetthisisAubrey…somehow,she
foundme.

“Hello.ThisisMac.FromThePineWay.”

Noway!AbiggrinbrokeoutacrossmyfaceandI

couldn'thelpit.Ihadstruggledwiththeurgetoaskher
todinnerwhileIhadbeeninthestoreearlier.Ithadn’t
seemedquiterightatthetime.Itwouldhavefeltrushed
andawkward.Butnow,insteadofforcingmyself
throughthatawkwardness,shewastakentheinitiativeto
callme.

How’dshegetmynumber?Itwasagoodquestion

forsure.“Oh.Hi.Um…howdidyougetmynumber?”

“Afriendgaveittome,”shesaid.“Listen,Ihavea

weirdquestionthatIhavetoaskyou.”

“Okay,”Irespondedwithasmile,readytohearher

askwhatIcouldn'tearlier.

Sheremainedquietforasecond.Istoodbythe

kitchentablewiththecordlessphone,lookingoutinto
myslopingbackyard,grinninglikethecatthatatethe
canary.Itwasobviousthatshewasthinkinglongand
hardaboutwhatshewantedtosay,soIgaveherthetime
sheneeded.Abeautifulbutnormalwomanisaboutto
askmeout.

“Iwaswonderinghowdeadsetyouareonreally

keepingMr.Tanner ’splane,”shesaidfinally.

Wait…what?Iwassotakenabackthatnowords

cameinstantlytomind.Mymouthhungopen,butno
wordscame.HadIbeenthatspoiledinHollywood?Did
Ireallythinkthatanywomanthatbotheredtospeakto
mewasinterestedinbecomingaplaythinginmybed?

“Uh,”Isaid,stillblank.“Howdidyouknowabout

that?”

“BecauseIhadmyeyeonit,too.Ireallywantedthat

plane.”GonewasthesweetnesstohervoicethatIloved
earlier.Shewasalsobeingrathershort.

“Yousoundupset,”Isaid,goingtothekitchenand

leaningupagainstthecounter.

“Iam.”Shit.

“So,whatareyouaskingme?”

“I’maskingyouifyouwouldbeinterestedinselling

theplanetome,”shesaid.Therewasslightedgeof
angertohervoiceand,quitefrankly,itmademestart
feelingmyownlittlepangsofhostility.Whowassheto
stickhernoseinmybusinessandtrytomakemefeel
badaboutbuyingthatplane?

“Well,Ijustboughtit,”Isaid.“It’sabitearlytosell.”

Itriedtomakeitsoundfunny,butitcameoutdryand

flat.

“Andyouwouldn’tbeinterestedinsellingittome?”

“Forhowmuch?”Iasked.

“ForwhatMr.Tannerwasaskingfor.”

“Ifyou’vespoketohim,”Isaid,“thenyouknowI

paidabitmore.Isupposeyouweretheotherpartyhe
toldmeabout?”

“Yes.”

“Look,”Isaid.“I’msorry,butIalreadywrotethe

check.I’mgoingtopickitupfromhimtomorrowand
takeitforaspin.Ihaven’tevenusedityet.Ican’tvery
wellsellit.”

Shesighedaudiblyoverthephone.“Doyoueven

haveapilot’slicense?”sheaskedrathergruffly.

“Ido,infact.Doyou?”

Macdidn’tanswer.Icouldfeelherangerand

disappointmentradiatingthroughthephone.Ihatedthe
factthatshewaspissedoff—especiallysinceIhadbeen
veryclosetoaskingheroutlessthanthreehoursbefore

—buttherewasnothingtobedone.AsfarasIwas
concerned,shewasbeingnotonlyrude,butalittle
unrealistic.

“Fine,”shefinallysaid.“Ihadsomeprettybigplans

forit,soifyoueverdodecideyouwanttosellit—,”

Shestoppedthere,herpoorattitudeclearlygetting

thebetterofher.Igaveherkudosforstoppingbefore
shesnapped.

“Mac,”Isaid.“Look,thisisnoreasontogetupset

withme.Ihadnoideayouweretheotherperson
interested.”

“Wouldithavemadeadifference?”sheasked.

“Well…no.”

“Thereyougo.”

“Perhapsweshouldgettogetherandtalkaboutit.

Maybeoverdinnerorsomething.”Mysuggestionwas
outofmymouthbeforeIcouldstopitandIcringed,
squeezingmyeyesshut.Goddamnit,Devlin.

Andthereitwas,floatinginthesilencebetweenus

likeaghostthatwaspointingatmeandlaughing.

WhenwasthelasttimeIaskedawomanout?Ihad

noidea.Anditreallydidn’tmatterbecauseasmadasshe
seemedtobeatme,Ididn’tseeanysortofmeeting
betweenusresemblinganythinglikeadate.

Apparently,theproposalhadshockedher.She

remainedsilentforamoment—forsuchalongmoment
thatInearlytookitback.

“Fine,”shesaidwithhostilitystillleftinhervoice.It

wasclearthatshewastakenaback,butshealsodidn’t
wanttohandcontrolovertheconversationtome,either.
Shewasactingratherlikeaspoiled-assbrat.Her
attitudewasbeginningtopissmeoff.

“Tonight?”

“Yes,”shesaid.“Assoonaswecan.”

Ibitbacktheretortthatwasontheendofmytongue,

onethatwantedtosay:Itdoesn’tmatterbecauseI’mnot
goingtobeguiltedintosellingyoutheplane.

ButIsaidnothing.Instead,MacandIspentthenext

twominutesironingoutthedetailsofwhereandwhen
wewouldmeet.Shemadesuretokeepthatangryedgeto
hervoiceasIdidmyabsolutebestnottosnapbackat

her.

Ihungupthephone,puzzled.Iwasangry,Iwas

excitedand,beyondall,Iwasconfused.Whatthehell…
hadIenteredsomesortoftimewarpandbecamean
antsy,moodyteenagain?

Ithoughtaboutheadingbackouttofinishmy

workout,buttheenergyjustwasn’tthere.Instead,Iwent
directlytotheshowerandstartedgettingreadyforthe
firstnon-HollywooddateI’dhadinmorethanfour
years.

9—Mac

WedecidedtomeetatPier ’sEnd,anicelittle

restaurantontheoutskirtsoftown.Itsatattheendofthe
lastpierinthecity,overlookingaportionoftheseathat
lookedasifitdroppedstraightofftheedgeoftheworld.
Peoplewerewillingtopaytheoftenridiculousprices
justfortheview.ItwasatrendyestablishmentthatI
actuallydidn’tcareforallthatmuch,butIfiguredif
JackwasgoingtomakememeethiminwhatIfeltwas
somethingofahostagenegotiation,Icouldatleastget
anexpensivemealoutofhim.

WhenIarrived,Ifoundhimwaitingatthebar.I

approachedhimslowly,doingmybesttosizehimup.
Hewasdrinkingdarkbeer,hunchedoverthebarlike
someonethatreallyhadn'tspentmuchtimedoingitin
hispast.Helookeduncomfortable,staringfromtheTV
behindthebartosomeoftheotherpatrons.

Seeinghimlikethishelpedmetremendously.Ifelt

likeIwasonmyhometurfandhewasalreadyshowing
somecracksinhisfaçade.Good,Ithought.Andthen,on
theheelsofthat,Ithought:WasIreallycrushingonthat
manlessthansixhoursago?

Yes,Ihad.Itwasdisappointingforthesituationto

turnoutlikethis,butitseemedparforthecourseasfar
asmylovelifewasconcerned.Evenasfarbackashigh
school,itseemedthatanyguyIevershowedinterestin
turnedouttobebadformeinsomewayoranother.

Heturnedhishead,apparentlysensingmecoming

upbehindhim.Hegavemeafaintgrinandswiveled
aroundinhisbarstool.Thelightsintherestaurant—
particularlyinthebar—weredim,strikinghimjust
right.Ireallyhatedthewaymybodyrespondedtohis
smileatthatmoment.Isawthathehadtakenthetimeto
trimuphisfacialhairanddressrathernicely.Heworea
button-downflannelshirt,butoneofthemoreastute-
lookingonesandnothesuper-casualonesthatalways
seemedtobeplasteredontooutdoorenthusiast.

“Apparently,”hesaid,“Iwassupposedtomakea

reservation.ButIdidn’t.We’reonthelistnow,though.
Weshouldhaveatableinabouttwentyminutes.”

“Oh,”Isaid.“Thisisgoingtotakethatlong?”

Helookedhardatmeforamomentandthensmiled.

“Well,Icouldhavedroppedsomenamesorofferedthe
maîtred'somecash,butwhat'sthefuninthat?”Hesaid
jokingly,watchingmelikeahawkasItookthestool
nexttohim.ThebartendercamebyandIorderedaglass

ofredwine.

“Question,”Jacksaid.HissmilefadedandIwas

relievedtoseenervousnesscomeacrosshisface.Ishe
oneofthoseguysthat'susedtohisgood-looksgetting
himwhateverhewants?Surelynot…heseemedsolaid-
backearlier.

“What?”Iasked,steelingmyselfagainstwhatever

questionwasplaguinghisprettylittlehead.

“Thelittleawkwardsparkorwhateveritwas…the

thingwebothfeltinyourstoreearliertoday.Shouldwe
pretendthatdidn’thappen?Isthatgoingtomakethis
harderthanithastobe?”

Istared.Itwassuchabluntandstrategicquestion

thatittookmeoff-guard.ThatwasthelastthingIhad
beenexpecting.Anddamnhim,IwasprettysureIwas
blushingrightaway.So,tocircumventhislittlejab,I
nodded.

“Yes,Ithinkso.”Assoonasitwasout,Icringed.

Damn,Ithought.Ishouldhavedeniedthespark.That
wouldhaveshownhim.

Butitwastoolate.Therewasnothingtodobutsitin

silenceforamomentasthebartenderbroughtovermy

glassofwine.Itookasip,tryingnottoletthefactthat
Jack’seyeswerewatchingmyeverymovegetundermy
skin.

“Okaythen,”hesaid,takinginadeepbreathand

easingthegrinoffofhisface.“Strictlybusiness.That
beingthecase,letmeaskyou:ifyouwantaplanso
badly,whynotbuyoneelsewhere?”

Itwasagoodquestion,andIknewtheanswerthatI

hadwasstupid.ThetruthwasthatIwantedMr.Tanner ’s
planebecauseIknewhimwellandwhenIhadseenthe
planfloatingtherebehindhisshopwiththeFORSALE
banneronit,Ifeltasifithadbeenmeantforme.The
solutiontosomethingthatIhadbeenthinkingaboutfor
yearshadbeenstaringmeintheface.Theonlything
stoppingmefromatleastinquiringaboutithadbeen
lazinessandfear.ButIhadaskedaboutandhadbeen
incrediblyseriousaboutbuyingit—but,intheend,had
beenbeatentothepunchbythemansittingnexttome.

“Becauseit’sfromalocalman,”Isaid,tellingahalf-

truth.“Idon’thavethefundstobuyanewoneand,
honestly,ifI’mgoingtobuyused,I’dratheritcome
fromsomeoneIknow.”

Jacknodded.“That’sunderstandable,”hesaid,

takingadrinkfromhisbeer.“ButwhatIdon’tgetis

whyyouwantitsobadly.Youmusthavehadsomegood
plans,huh?”

Igavehimacontemptuoussmile.“That’sreallynone

ofyourbusiness.”

Hisflinched,hiseyesnarrowingslightly.“Okay,

thenletmetellyouaboutwhyIwantedit,.”Ihonestly
didn'tcaretohearwhyheboughttheplane,buthedidn’t
givemeanopportunitytosaynoortointerrupthim.“I
gotmypilot’slicenseyearsago,justassomethingtodo,
really.Ienjoyedthehelloutofflyingbutnotnearly
enoughtogointotheAirForce.SowhenIwentintothe
military,myinterestinflyingtookabackseat.”

Ifeltthebloodrushfrommyface.“Youwereinthe

military?”

Jacknoddedandpaused,givingmeanoddlookas

hedidso.“Iwas.Butthat’snotthepoint.Yousee,Ihave
workedhardoverthelastfewyearsandhavemissed
flying.WhenIsawTanner ’splane,itoccurredtome
exactlyhowmuchIhadmissedit.AndthenItookmy
littlewalktoCatchman’sPass.As…,”heshookhishead,
searchingfortherightword,“...ascheesyasitsounds,
watchingthesunsetuptheresolidifieditforme.I
figuredIcouldmakesomemoneybyflyingpeopleto
thesereallyremotedestinationswheretheycanhave

weekendretreatsorjustsomealonetimeinthe
wilderness.”

Nofreakin'way.Iblinkedhard.“You’rekidding

me.”

“No.I’mnot.Why?”

“Becausethatwasmyplan.”

Jacktwistedhishead,browsfurrowed.“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.”Helookedsomewhatamused.

Suddenly,myangermorphedintothisflatand

featurelessthing.Itwasstillthere,butitwasuseless.I
knewthatanyargumentsIhadtouseagainsthimwould
comeoutmakingmesoundlikeIwasaspoiledlittlegirl
thatjustwasn’thappywithnotbeingabletogetmyway.

Jacktoyedwiththecondensationonhismugofbeer

foramoment.Well,“Imightbewillingtorentitout
hereandthereifthat’ssomethingyou’dbeinterestedin,
but—,”

“No,”Isaid,cuttinghimoff.“I’mnotgoingtorent

theplanefromyou.”

Hischocolateeyeslookedupfromthebeertome

andhefrowned.“Idon’tknowwhatelsetosaythen.”

BeforeIcouldgetanotherwordin,aprettywaitress

thatlookstraightoutofhighschoolcameover.“Excuse
me,butyourtableisready,sir,”shesaidtoJack.

Hegavemeahookandshrugged.“I’dlikeitifyou

joinedme,”hesaid.“Idon’twantyouleavinghere
upset.”

“Well,I’mhungryandcertainlynotabouttogive

up.”

“Ifiguredasmuch,”Jacksaidwithachuckle,

followingthewaitress.

Angry,awkward,andall-aroundconfused,I

followedthegood-lookingguy.Again,Iwatchedhimto
seehowheinteractedwithhissurroundings.Hewalked
asifhehadalltheconfidenceintheworld,buttherewas
somethingabouthisfacethatbetrayedthat.Healmost
lookedlikeascaredlittleboythatshutdownwhenever
hewastakentoanewplace.Despitemyanger,Iwas
slightlyamused.WhoisthisJackguy…wheredidhe
comefromandwhatexactlybroughthimtoSitka?

Wewereledtoatablethatsatneartheback.The

viewoftheoceanwasobscuredbytables,chairsand
otherpatronsfromwherewesat,butIdidn’tcare.What
wasIdoinghere,anyway?Jackhadtoldmeseveral
timesthathewasn’tinterestedinsellingtheplane.So
whywasIwastingmytime?

Oh,please.Youknowwhy,alongforgottenpartof

mesaid.Thiswasthepartofmethatwasdesperatefora
man’smouthonmylips,foramantograbmeandpull
medownontohisbody...

Stopit…IclearedmythroatasIlookedtothemenu,

pretendingtobeveryinterestedinit.Thewaitressread
offthespecialsbutIwasn'treallypayingattention.Icuta
glanceatJackandsawhimnoddingashelistenedtothe
youngwoman.

Idon'tlikehim,Ithought.Iguessitwastrueinthat

moment.Herewasthisnewguyfromoutoftown,
blindlysettinghisrootsdowninSitkaand,inthe
process,steppingdirectlyinfrontofahugegoalIhad
setformyself—hell,agoalmyfatherhadsortofseta
whileback.

Icouldpullthemy-dead-father-wanted-thiscard,I

thought.ButthethoughtofbringingupmydadinJack’s

presenceseemedlikeacowardlythingtodo.

Thewaitresswalkedawaytoletusponderoverthe

restaurant'sofferings.Themomentshewasgone,Jack
sathismenudownandlookedatmewithaslysmile,
onethatwassortofcrooked…likehewasupto
something.God,sofreakin'sexy!Thelookonhisface
indicatedthathestillwasn’tquitesurewhattothinkof
me.

“Thereisonethingthatmightbeabletosolvethis

problem,”hesaid,foldinghislargehandsonthetable.

Imadeafrustratedchucklingnoiseandtoremyeyes

awayfromhisface.“DoesitinvolveyougivingmeMr.
Tanner ’splane?”Shutup,Itoldmyself.You’restarting
tosoundlikeawhinyentitledbitch.Myowncomments
tomyselfwerestartingtoannoyevenme.

Jackcontinuedtosmile.“No.Notquite.”

“Whatisitthen?”

Hepursedhislipstogether,staringdownatthetable.

Thelookofsheerconcentrationremindedmeof
someone,butIcouldn’tplacemyfingeronwhoitmight
be.Foramoment,IthoughtthatIhadmaybeseenJack
somewherebefore,butwhere?Whenhelookedbackup

atme,thethoughtvanished.Hiseyespeereddirectlyinto
mineandItriedtokeepthedesperatepartofmethat
badlywantedthistobeadatefartothebackofmyheart.

“Well,yousaidthatyouhadthesameplanasIdid,

right?Aboutflyingpeopleouttoremotelocations?”

“Yes.IwasgoingtoofferitthroughThePineWay.”

Henodded,lookingoffforamoment.“Isee.”

“What?”Iasked.Ihatedthathehadmeontheedge

ofmyseat.Ifthishadhavebeenarealdate,Iwouldhave
beenanabsolutemessbynow.

Helookedbacktomeandsmiledthatradiantsmile

ofhis.“Partnerwithme.”Hiseyesunwaveringfrom
mine.

TheideawassofaroutofleftfieldthatIwasunable

torespondrightaway.WhenIfinallydid,allIwasable
tosaywas“What?”andeventhenmyvoicesounded
strangled,likesomeweirdexoticbird.

“Itmakessense,”Jackshrugged.“Youknowthe

peopleofthetown.Youhaveacentralhubforpeopleto
cometowhentheyneedtheservices.AndIhavethe
planeandthepilot’slicense.”

Myfirstreactionwastoflatlyrefuse.Butasthe

negativeresponsesatonthetipofmytongue,mygears
wentintooverdrive.WhileIhadnodesiretoworkwith
himorsharemyplane,hisideamadeabitofsense.

No,scratchthat.Itwasactuallysortofbrilliant.

“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,sippingabitofmywine,

drawingoutmyresponse.Truthfully,ifIcouldn'town
theplane,thiswasthenextbestthing.SowhatifIwas
angrybeyondwordsathim?Didanyoneevergenuinely
likethepeoplethatworkedwith?

“Thinkaboutit,”hesaid.

Hedidn’taskmetothinkaboutit—hetoldme.He

knewhehadabsolutecontrolofthesituation,muchlike
atigerinacage.Iabsolutelyhatedthat.

Ifinishedmyglassofwineintwolargegulps.I

lookedforthewaitress,wantinganotherandanother.

Shefinallycameby,refillingmywineandtaking

ourorders.Fiveminuteswentbywithouteitherofus
sayingaword.Ilookedoverhisshoulder,totheocean
view,andthoughtaboutleaving…justwalkingout
beforemymealevenarrived.

“Howlonghaveyoulivedhere?”Jackbrokethe

silence.

Ilookedathimcuriously.Hewaseitherchoosingto

ignorethefactthatIwasclearlyfurious,orhewas
obliviousanddidn’tseeit.

Insteadofactinglikeaspoiledbitch,Ichanged

thingsupbyrespondingpolitely.Weweregoingto
worktogether,afterall.Bythetimeourmealshad
come,wewereinafullconversation.Forthenexthour
orso,wetalkedinnocently,liketwopeopleonafirst
date,andtheplanedidnotcomeupinourconversationa
singletime.

10—Devlin

Althoughthereweretwenty-fourofus,itfeltlike

muchlessaswestormedthroughtheghettowithour
gunsacrossoutchestsandourpacksalongourbacks.It
wasmysecondtourinAfghanistanandtheonlycombatI
hadseenhadinvolvedapprehendingfourmenthatwe
hadcaughtplantingroadsidebombs.Duringthat
confrontation,Ithrewarighthookataguyhalfmysize
andnothingelse.Otherthanthat,theclosestIhadcome
toactualcombatwasbeingthreeblocksawayfroma
stand-off.

Butnow,hereIwaswiththisteamofsoldiers,

knowinglyheadingintothemidstoflivefire.Evenaswe
strategicallymadeourwaythroughthedirtystreets,
repeatedgunfireechoedoutandwasfollowedbypeople
screaming.Someofthosescreamswerecomingfrom
children.

Theshotscamewhenwewereablockawayfromthe

school.TheenemywasusinglighterrifesthanourM4s,
andwhileweknewwehadtheupperhandwithfire
power,wealsoknewthatasingleshotfromariflecould
killjustaseasily.

Iwatchedtwomenfall,onedroppedtotheground

withoutanyothermovement…clearlyaheadshot.We
hadbeentrainedtokeepourcoolinthesesituations,to
ignoretheblood,thedeath,nottopanic.Wewouldonly
fallbackifourordersdirectedustodoso.Wedashed
forwardintothegunfire,towardsthescreams.

Bythetimewereachedtheschool,takingcover

behindadeterioratedwall,thetwenty-fourmembersour
squadhaddroppedtotwelve.Wemanagedtotakeouta
fewenemysoldiersaswell,butwecouldn’tdetermine
theirexactlocation.Itseemedliketheyknewwewere
coming,whereweweregoingandtheroutewewere
goingtotake.Theshotswerecomingfromeverywhere,
evenwhilewewereduckeddownbehindthewallbeside
theschool.

Weattemptedsplittingup,halfofusgoingtotherear

oftheschool,theotherhalfgoingintothefront.The
groupIwasinwenttothebackandIthoughtIwasready
foranything–myM4raisedandreadytofire.Assoon
asweroundedthecorner,theearthtrembledwitha
violentexplosion.Lightrubbleanddustfellallaround
usbutmissedthemoredangerousstuffastheblastcame
fromthefrontoftheschool.Whilenoneofusdared
speak,weallsomehowknewforcertainthatthe
explosionhadbeenaplantedbombormineatthefront
oftheschool;ourmenthathadtriedgoinginthrough

thefrontweredead.

Oneofus—MichaelsorVasquez,Iwasneversure—

startedscreamingrightbesideme.Itwasascreamof
purefuryandrage.Heblindlyranintotheschool
withoutmuchcaution.Twoshotsrangout,hittinghim
somewhereinthetorso…buthekeptgoing.Seeingour
comradefindtheballstodowhathedidinspiredtherest
ofus,andwefollowedsuit.

Enteringtheschool,Iwasthelastoneinlinebutthe

firsttoseetheinsurgenthidinginthesmallclassroomto
theleft.Hisgunwastrainedonthemaninfrontofme
andIinstinctivelyraisedmygun,tookaim,andfired.

Theroundhithimintheheadandwhenherocked

back,fallingtotheground,hiseyeswentwide,was
lookingrightatme.Iwantedtoscreambutcouldn’t,
wantedtofalloutonthefloorandwail,butcouldn’t—

Iwokeupgasping.Icouldfeeltherecoilofthat

ghostM4inmyhands,theshotfromthedreamsoloud
andsorealthatIcouldeasilyfeelitsphantompresence
inthewakingworld.

Iwassweatingandmyheartwaspounding.Isatin

bedandlookedattheclockonthenightstand.5:04a.m.
Irubbedatmyforehead,asiftocoaxanyofthe

remnantsofthedreamout,justtoberidofthedamn
thing.I’dhadthatsamedreamfromtimetotimesinceI
hadbeenrescuedbythechopperroughlytwentyminutes
aftergoingintotheschool.Thedreamcameless
frequentlywhenI’dbeenatmybusiestinHollywood.
Lastsummer,I’dbeenonlocationforthreedifferent
filmsatonepoint,averagingthreeflightsaweekand
aroundfivehoursofsleepanight.

IthoughtIhadsomehowexorcisedmyselfofthe

dream,butthereitwasagain.Ithadfoundmeherein
Sitkaandremindedmethatnomatterwhatsortof
lifestyleIchosetolead,thatpivotalafternoonin
Afghanistanwasgoingtobeapartofmylifeforever.

Knowingthatitwouldbenexttoimpossibletoget

backtosleep,Iwentintothekitchenbrewedupacupof
coffee.Itriedreadingabookwhilelisteningtothe
Keurigdoit'sthingbutcouldn’tconcentrate.Itossedthe
booktothesideandthendidsomethingIhadn’tdonein
severaldays:IcutontheTV.

Oneofthosefar-toocheerymorningshowshadjust

comeonandtheywerequicklyrunningthroughthe
recentheadlines.Icaughtuponthenews,zoningoutin
frontofthetelevisionuntilthecoffeewasdonebrewing.
Iscrambledsomeeggs,madesometoast,andthen
ploppedmyselfinfrontoftheTVagainwhileeating.

Chewingonmysecondpieceoftoast,Inearly

chokedwhenmyfaceappearedinthelittlegraphicbox
nexttothemorninghost.Notagoodwaytostartthe
morning!Coughing,Igrabbedtheremoteandturned
thevolumeup.

“…totheworldofHollywood,”thehostwassaying.

“It’sbeensixweekssinceDevlinStonedisappearedand
theconspiracytheoriesareflying!Washepartofthe
Illuminati?Washekidnappedbyinsurgentsorterrorists
duetohisheroicsinthewarfourandahalfyearsago?
OrdidhesimplytireoftheHollywoodlifestyleand
retreatedtosomeunknownlocation?Fromhisagent,to
hisPRmanager,fromhisromanticintereststohis
accountant,thismanhunthasgrowntoepicproportions.
Laterintheshow,we’llbetalkingtoAdamParker,
DevlinStone’sagent,togetthelatestinthe
developmentsofthiscase,sostaytuned.”

Withagrunt,IturnedtheTVoffandslungthe

remotecontrolacrosstheroom.

HowcouldIhavebeensostupid?

Itwasathoughtthatclungtomybrainlikethedream

ofAfghanistan.Someonewouldeventuallyfindme.
And,withmyluck,itwouldbebecauseofthemoney

transferI’dapprovedforthepurchaseofMr.Tanner ’s
floatplane.

“Whatever,”Isaidoutloudinthecabin.

IstaredattheblankTVforamoment,sortingoutin

myheadhowImighthandlebeingdiscovered.What
wouldIdoifAubreyorAdamshowedupatmydoor
laterintheday?HowwouldIexplainmyself?AndhowI
thehellwouldImanagetofendoffthereportersand
journalists?

ItwasthefirsttimesincearrivinginSitkathatI

allowedmyselftobebotheredbysuchdetails.AndasI
letitsinkit,anamazingthinghappened…IlearnedthatI
didn’tcare.

Iaddedalittlepowderedcreamerandsugartomy

coffeeanddidnothingbutthinkforamoment.Itwas
surprisinglyeasytopushthenightmareofAfghanistan
andtheworriesofbeingfoundoutbymyHollywood
zombie-acquaintancestothesideandfocusinsteadon
themeetingMacandIhadarranged.

Twodayshadpassedsinceourawkwarddinner.She

textedmelastnighttoaskmetocometoThePineWay
togooverthedetails.Iassumedthismeantthatshehad
giventhoughttopartneringwithmeandhaddecidedin

thepositive.Withthishopeobliteratingallofmy
worriesofbeingfoundoutbysnoopingeyesfrom
Hollywood,IgotonmybikeandheadedintoSitka,
ridingthroughacrispandcoldmorning.

Itwasaclear,beautifulmorning.Thesunbarely

warmedmyfaceasthefrigidwindbitintome,butitwas
apleasantfeeling.BythetimeIwashalfwaydown
MooseHill,thenewsreportsandmynightmaresof
Afghanistanwereforgotten.

****

IgottoThePineWayjustasMacwasflickingonthe

lightsfortheday.WhenIwalkedin,Ismelledcoffee
brewinginthebackofthestoreandinanoddway,it
wasaveryprivatesortofmomentforme.Thiswas
Mac’splaceofbusinessandIwasseeingitduringits
firstmomentsoftheday.Itwasquietandquaint;Ifeltas
ifIwasintrudingonsomesortofspecialmoment.

Tryingtobeaspoliteandnon-confrontationalas

possible,Isaid,“Hello?”inasoftvoice.

Iheardshufflingfootstepsbehindthecounter.There

wassmallroomintheback,whichjoinedtotherestof
thestorebyasmallhall.Maccamethroughthedoorway
withacupofcoffeeinherhand.Shestoodtherefora

momentandthennoddedatme.Eithershewasn'thappy
toseemeorshewasn'tamorningperson.

“AmItooearly?”Iasked.Iwasoverdoingthe

cheerfulnessinmyvoiceandIhopeitdidn’tseemtoo
fake.Idid,afterall,havetheactingbackgroundto
supportit.

“No,”shesaid,frowningslightly.

“Good.”

“Youwantsomecoffee?”sheasked.Hertonewas

sharpandbiting,asifshewasdaringmetosayyes.

“No,”Ianswered.“IhadsomebeforeIleftthe

cabin.”

Iwalkeduptothecounterandgaveherplentyof

opportunitytostarttheconversation.Truthbetold,Ihad
absolutelynoideahowtostart.

“Here’sthething,”shesaid,settingthecoffeedown

nexttotheregister.“Ashardasitmaybeforyouto
believe,I’mnotabitchoraspoiledlittlebrat.I’mreally
not.However,Iamratherstubborn.”

Icouldn'thelpbutsmileatthatstatement.Ireally

wantedtosay'noshit',butIheldmytongueandlether
continue.

“Thatbeingsaid,maybeyoucanunderstandthatI

wasprettyupsetwhenIfoundoutthatyouhadpurchased
theplanefromundermynose.”Idon'tthinkso...

“Itwasn’tunderyournose,”Icorrected,

straighteningup.“Ihadnoideatherewasanother
interestedbuyeruntilIwalkedintoMr.Tanner ’swithmy
check.”

Shesearchedmyfaceforamomentbeforegoing

on.“Alright,fine.Maybeyoudidn'ttakeitfromunder
mynosebutI’veseenittimeandtimeagainaroundhere
—someonenewcomesin,sweepsdownandbuysouta
business.It’sacrappythingtodo.”

“Ididn’tbuyoutabusiness,”Isaid.“Andquite

frankly,youarecomingoffasbeingspoiled.Ibought
theplane.It’smine.Idon'twanttorubitin,butitseems
likeyouwon'tlistentoanythingelseIhavetosay.”

Hereyesgrewwideand,forasecond,lookedlike

shemighttearup,butthesadlookwasquicklyreplaced
withmoredisdain.“Look…here’swhatitcomesdown
to,”shesaid.“Gettingtheplanewouldbringadreamof
myfather ’stofruition.Iamnotplayingthemy-dead-

dad-wanted-thiscard…Ipromiseyouthat.Butitwould
givemybusinessahugeboostifitcouldworkright.”

“Yeah,Icaughtthatatdinner,”Isaid.“Andthat'swhy

Iamofferingyouthechancetopartnerwithmeasa
courtesy.”

“Acourtesy?Areyoushittingme?”Thatcertainly

setoffafirebehindthoseeyes.

Ismiledandshrugged.“Well,honestly,itwould

benefitmeslightly,too.Havingyourlovelylocal
businesstaggedontomyservicescouldbegreat…not
justforme,butforbothofus.”

“Itwould,”Macsaidthroughgritteeth.Itsounded

likeshe’dratherhavearootcanalfromadrunkdentist
ratherthangointobusinesswithme.

“That’sabadthing?”Iasked.

Shestaredhardandmeandsighed,pickingupher

coffee.“Idon’tknow,”shesaidafteramoment.“Idon’t
evenknowyou.”

“Exactly.Youdon'tknowme.Thiscouldworkif

yougiveitatry.Andifitdoesn’t…wellthen,atleast
youtried.”

“Butyou’dkeeptheplane,right?”

“OfcourseIwould.Ipaidforit.Buthell…who

knows…maybeI’llfindoutafterafewmonthsthatthis
littlebusinessIhaveinmindisreallynothingbutapipe
dream.IfthathappensandIdecideIcan’tusetheplane,I
won’tputitupforsale.I’llcallyoudirectly.”

Shewasquietforawhile,sippingonhercoffee.

Behindher,thephonerang.Shesighed,lookingtothe
phone.

“Sohowdowedothis?Dowesignpapersor

something?”

“I’llwritesomethingup,”Isaid.

Shenodded,anactthatshemanagedtomakelook

violent.Shethenheadedforthestill-ringingphone,now
onitsthirdring.“Fine,”shesaid.

“I’llbringittoyouwhenit’sd—,”

Shedidn’tevenletmefinish.Sheansweredthe

phone,cuttingmeoff.

Iwantedtostaythereuntilshewasdonewithher

phoneandrailintoher.Iwantedtoletherknowthatit
washardtobelievethatshewasn’tabitchbynature.I
wantedtotellhertoforgetaboutit…forgetthe
partnershipandtheplane.

ButIsaidnoneofthosethings.Icouldn’tplacewhat

itwas,buttherewassomethingaboutherdemeanorthat
mademethinkthatshewas…Idon’tknow…hurting,
maybe.Itwashardtoputawordtoit.

Soinsteadofstayingtoprolongtheargument,I

rememberedthefewglimmersofthenicewomanIhad
seenatdinnertheothernight.Thatcharming,radiant
womanhadapparentlynotcomeintoworktoday,
sendinginherevil,grumpytwininstead.

Ileftthestorereluctantly.Ididn’tlookback,even

thoughIknewshewaswatchingme.Ididn'twantherto
knowthathercoldreceptionfazedme.

Ihoppedbackonmybikeandpedaledbackup

MooseHillwhereIthoughtImightflipontheTVagain
toseewhatharebrainedstorieswerebeingconcocted
aboutDevlinStoneandhispresentwhereabouts.

11—Mac

IthadbeentwodayssinceJackhadcomebyThe

PineWay,ruiningmydaybyvisitingfirstthinginthe
morning.Aspromised,hehadwrittenupacontract.I’ll
givehimcreditforonething—heknowswhenhe’snot
wanted.Hedidn’tbringthecontractbythestorein
person;he’doptedone-mailittomeinstead.

Ireadoveritandreadoveritandreadoveritagain.

AndhereIwas,twodayslater,re-readingit.Ididn’t
understandwhyIkeptlookingatit.IknewIwasgoing
tosignthedamnthing.Itmadesense.Itwasano-brainer.
But,ifIwasbeinghonestwithmyself,Iwasbeingabit
spoiled.IkepttryingtotellmyselfthatIwantedtodo
thisformyfather,butmyfatherwouldhavebeenvery
disappointedinthewayIwasacting.

Iheldmypenoverthesignaturelinebutjustcouldn’t

signmyname.Notyet.

Iwenttothefridgeandgrabbedabeer.Redwinewas

usuallymydrinkofchoicebutwhenIwantedtoget
drunk,Iwentforbeer.Andtonight,Iwantedtoget
drunk.IhadwantedtogetdrunkeversinceMr.Tanner
hadtoldmethathehadsoldtheplanetosomeoneelse.

Maybe,Ithought,itwillbeeasiertosignJack’scontract
ifI’mthreesheetstothewind.

Thephrasethreesheetstothewindhadnevermade

sensetome.Ithadbeenoneofmyfather ’sgoofylittle
sayings.He’duseditalotwheneversomeonewasdrunk
(often,whenhewasdrunklateroninmylife).

Withasigh,Ishovedthoughtsofdadoutofmyhead.

That,coupledwithJack’scontractandeverythingtodo
withtheplane,didnotmakeforagoodnight.Especially
whentherewasacaseofbeerinmyfridge,promising
methatitcouldeasilyhelpmeforgetaboutallofthat
forawhile.

Itookmybeertothecomputerandopenedupmy

novel-in-progress.Thereweretimes,whensitting
behindthekeyboard,thatmybrainjustdidn’twantto
write.Sometimesitseemedtopretendthatitcouldn’t
evenrememberwhatthebookwasabout.Buttonight
wasnotoneofthosenights.

Ifounditeasiertoconnectwithmycharactersand

theirmotivations.IgotintowhatIguesswasazoneof
sorts.Bestofall,Iwasgettingclosertoapivotalscene
thatmightinvolvesomesex.Ihadalreadydecided,from
writingthefirstsentence,thatallsexwouldbemostly
leftoffofthepageandlefttothereader ’simagination.

ButasIwrotethebookandgotclosertothatscene,it
wasalmostlikeforeplayinaway.IfoundthatIwanted
toseewhatmymainmalecharacterlookedlikenaked.I
wantedtofindoutwhatsortofamanhewaslikeinthe
bedroom.

Istoppedwritinglongenoughtoponderthese

questions.IwasashamedtofindthatIwasgetting
slightlyturnedon.ThefactthatIwasonmythirdbeer
didn’thelpatall.

IenvisionedmymaleprotagonistasIhaddescribed

himandthen,outofabsolutelynowhere¸IsawJackin
hisplace.Itmademewince,mademewanttostepaway
fromthecomputer.Thejerkwasn’tevenhereandhe
wassomehowmanagingtoruinsomeofthebestwriting
Ihaddoneinthelastfewmonths.

Maybeitwasthebeer,butIdidn’thaveanyproblems

admittingtomyselfwhyIwasthinkingofJack.Sure,
therewasaverystrainedandanger-ladenrelationship
betweenus.ButhewasalsothefirstmanIhadgoneout
todinnerwithinnearlyfouryears.AndasfarasIknow,
hewasthefirstmanthathadlookedatmelike
somethingtobedesiredinalongtime.I’mprettysure
hewastryingtobyslywhenhewascheckingmeout
whenhehadcomebackfromhishikingexcursion
(beforeheswoopedinandtooktheplanefromme,that

is)andIhadlovedit.Ithadmademefeelwantedforthe
firsttimeinalongwhile.

SoitmadeasicksortofsensethatImightsubstitute

hisfaceandbodyforthoseofmymainmale
protagonist.Arrogantjerkornot,thefactremainedthat
Jackwasincrediblygood-looking.Ifhewasn'tsuchan
arrogantdick,Iwouldhavenoproblematalltryingto
netJackasthemanthatwouldbreakthewretcheddry
spellIhadbeenon.Icouldscarcelyremembertheman
thatI’dhadtheonenightstandwithtwoyearsago.His
facewasjustabblurtomeandthenighthadnotbeen
memorable.

SoofcourseJackwasthere,inmythoughts.ButI

wouldmuchratherhimbefirmlyplacedintotherealms
ofanger.ThefactthatIalsofoundmyselfwantingto
kisshimfromtimetotime(eveninmyanger)was
probablysomedeepFreudianthingthatIwouldnever
understand.

Whenmycellphonerang,Isilentlythankedit.I

wasn’tsurehowmuchlongerI’dbeabletositthere,
thinkingofmylackofasexlifeandhowtheonemanI
hadbeenattractedtointhelastfewyearswasessentially
myself-madenemesis.

Mydisplayshowedthesmilingfaceofmy

grandfatherwhenIpickeditup.Ismiledatthepicture
andsuddenlywishedhewereherewithme,drinking
beersandtellingstoriesaboutdad.

IansweredthephonelikeIusuallydidwhenIknewit

washimontheotherline.“HeyGrandfather,”Isaid.

“HeyMac,”hesaid.“What’sthescoop?”

“Sameold,sameold,”Isaid.“Howarethingsouton

theIsland?”

“Cold.Boring.Slow.”

“Soundslikefun,”Isaid.Itypicallyteasedmy

grandfatherabout“livinglifeonislandtime.”Helived
intheQueenCharlotteIslands,orHaidaGwaiiasheand
thelocalHaidapeoplehadbeencallingitsincethe
beginningoftime.Thechainofislandswassituatedoff
thewesterncoastofBritishColumbia.Mygrandfather
wasafull-bloodedmemberoftheHaidanationaswere
muchoftheresidentsoftheQueenCharlotteIslands.

“How’slife?”heasked.“How’sthatbookcoming?”

“It’scoming,”Isaid.“Gettingclosetofinishingit

up.”

Itwascutehowhealwaysmadeapointtoaskme

aboutthebook.HewasreallytheonlypersonthatknewI
wasworkingonit.Withdadandmybrotherdead,and
momre-marriedandlivingontheothersideofthe
country,GrandfatherwasreallytheonlyfamilyIspoke
toonaregularbasis.Usually,itwasallaboutwork;he
ownedasmallstoresimilartoThePineWayandwas
oneoftheonlybusinessesofthesortwherehelived.

“Good,”hesaid.“Finishitup,getitpublished,and

thenquitthatstore.Itcan’tbeanybetterthanbusinessis
outhere,canit?”

“Notreally,”Iadmitted.“Butbusinessontheinternet

ismakingupforit.ThePineWayisdoingprettygood.
Youstillrefusingtogothewayoftheinternet?”

“DamnrightIam.Ionlyhaveaboutanothertenor

fifteengoodyearsleftinme.I’vemadeitthislong
withoutrelyingonthatnonsense.”

Ismiledathisstubbornness.“Howareyoudoing?”I

askedhim.“AndImeanyou.Notthebusiness.”

“Doinggood.Wonaboutfiftybucksatpokerlast

night.”

“Andthat’sthehighlightofyourweek?”

“Ofcoursenot.There’sgettingdrunkandwatching

hockeywithLarryDouglasonWednesdaynights.”

“Ooh,that’sasocialliferightthere!”

“Andwhat’syourslookinglike?”heasked.

Iwalkedrightintothat,Ithoughttomyself.“Hey,I

joked.I’manaspiringwriter.Ihavenotimeforasocial
life.You,ontheotherhand…,”

“Takeiteasyonme,”hegrumbled.

“Sorry,Grandfather,”Isaid.“Ijustworryaboutyou

allaloneinthecabin.”

“Someofthebestthinkerslivedinsolitude,”hesaid.

“Really?”

“HellifIknow.Soundedgood,though.Butlook…

I’lladmit…there’saselfishreasonformycallingyou.”

“Andwhat’sthat?”

“Ineedtoborrowyouforsomediscountsagain.”

“Sure,”Isaid.“Notaproblem.”

“Well,therubofitisthis…Ineedthemerchandise

withinthreedays.”

“Oh,thatdoesposeaproblem.”

IhadbeenhelpingGrandfatherwithhisstoreina

round-aboutwayfornearlythreeyearsnow.Ithadkept
mebusyandmademefeelasifIwascontributing
somethingafterthedivorce.Locatedinthemiddleof
nowhereandforeveragainsttheinternet,Grandfather
simplywasn’tabletogetthesamediscountsIcould
throughnewer,moremoderndistributors.SoIhad
orderedthingsforhimusingThePineWay’saccount
andhavinghimpaymebycheckupondelivery.

“Youthinkthere’sanywayyoucouldpullitoff?”he

asked.“Ishouldaddthatfreightmightbeaproblem.”

It’salmostimpossible,Ithought.AndIalmostspoke

itoutloud,too.ButthenIthoughtaboutJack.Andthat
damnedplane.

“Youreallyneedthisstuff?”Iasked.

“Prettybadly,”hesaid.Therewasshameinhisvoice.

“ThisordercouldsetmefortherestoftheyearifIcan

getyoutowrangleupaproperdiscount.”

“Whatdoyouneed?”

Hewentthroughalistofthingsthattwoparticular

clientshadaskedfromhim—oneofwhichhadbeen
recommendedbyafriendand,therefore,neededtobe
impressedasfarasGrandfatherwasconcerned.Hewas
inneedofonenewsnowmobile,severaldifferentsorts
ofwhathecalled“newfangled”climbinggear,andother
oddsandends.Ijotteddownthelistashewentthrough
it.

Ifeltmyselfwantingtoaskhimwhythehellhehad

waitedsolongtocallmebutleftitalone.Ikeptthinking
abouttheplaneandbeforeIcouldstopmyselfandgive
itsomeproperthought,Ifoundmyselfopeningmy
mouthandsaying:“Yes,IthinkIcanhelp.”

“Areyousure?”hesaid.Hesoundeddelightedand

doubtfulallatthesametime.

“Possibly.Iknowaguywithaplane.IthinkIcanget

himtouseitforus.”

Ididn’tknowwhyIdidn’tgointothedetailsofhowI

wassortofpartofthatplane.Inthatmoment,Idon’t
thinkIwantedtoadmitthatIwasaligningmyselfwith

Jackinanyway,shape,orform.

“Mac…you’resure?Iknowthisisatallorder.”

“Trustme,Grandfather.Justletmehandleit,okay.

I’llcallyouwiththedetails.Givemelikeanhouror
two,okay?”

“Thankyousomuch,Mac.”

“Ofcourse.Now,Ihavetogo.IhavetomakesureI

gettheseordersinassoonasIcan.”

“Thanks,”hesaidagain.“Iloveyou.”

“Loveyou,too.”

WeendedthecallandIlookedatmyphonefora

while.IslowlyscrolledtoJack’snumber.WhenIhit
CALL,Iactuallygrimaced.

Jackansweredonthethirdring.Irealizedthenthatit

wasnearingtenthirtyatnightandIhadnoideawhenhe
usuallyturnedin.

“Hello?”heasked.

“Jack,it’sMac.DidIwakeyou?”Iaskeditinaway

thatmadeinclearthatIdidn’tcareifIhadwokenhim
up.

“No,”hesaid.“Justdoingsomereading.What’s

up?”

“Thispartnershipthing,”Isaid.“Wouldyoucareto

giveitatestrun?”

“When?Andhow?”

SoItoldhimaboutGrandfather ’ssituation.Ispoke

slowly,takingthetimetothinkouteachword.Itriedmy
besttonotmakeitsoundasifhewasdoingmeafavor
—althoughIguessthat’sreallywhatitboileddownto.

“Thatsoundsperfect,”hesaid.“It’snottoofarand

seemslikeanicelittletestrun.Ihaveamechanic
comingbytochecktheplaneouttomorrow.Assoonas
hegivesmethea-oktogo,wecanleavewheneveryou
want.”

“Soundsgood,”Isaid.“Ineedtoplacetheseorders

andhopetheycangetherewithinforty-eighthours.I’ll
keepyouposted.”

“Great.”

“Thanks,”Isaidflatly.

“Thankyou.”

Ihungupbeforeanyofourusualsilencescould

surface.Iletoutasighandthrewthephonedown.God,
whydidheinfuriatemesomuchbyjusttalking?

Igotupfromthedesk,headingforanotherbeer.But

beforeIdid,Istoppedandlookeddowntothelastpage
ofthecontract,stillsittingbymycomputer.

Ipickedupthepenlikeitwasaknifeandscrawled

mynameacrossthesignatureline.Istaredatitfora
momentand,verybriefly,allowedmyselftofeelthe
slightestbitofexcitement.

12—Devlin

Istillcouldn’tfigureoutMac.EvenasIwatchedher

comingdownthepiertowardsthefloatplane,shewasa
blankslate.Itwasobviousthatshewastryingtohide
something—whetheraseveredislikingofmeorsome
sortofawkwardcrush,itwasimpossibletotell.

Thereallyfrustratingpartofthewholeordealwas

thatIhadinitiallylikedherquiteabit.Buteversincethat
firstdinnerwhenshehadcomeoffasbeingthisspoiled
littlelocalgirl,shestartedtorubmethewrongway.I
wonderedifshewastakingthispartnershipthingtoher
head.DidshethinkIwantedtodoit?

Honestly,thatwasn’tafairquestionbecauseIdid

wantherhelpingmeout…inaway.Shehadthelocal
connectionsandIhadcheckedaroundandfoundthat
ThePineWaywasahighlyrespectedbusinesswitha
deep-rootedfamilytradition.Itmadegoodbusiness
senseformetoalignmyselfwithher.

Butifhercurrentattitudeoverthelastfewdayswas

anyindication,Iwasn’texactlysurehowlongthe
partnershipwouldlast.

Truthfully,that’swhyIhadagreedtothistrip.Itwas

apracticerunofsortstoseehowwellweworked
together—toseeifshe’dmaybedroptheattitudeonce
wewereupintheairandsherealizedthatIwasdoing
heraprettybigfavor.Hell,I’devertippedthefreight
companythathaddeliveredherequipmentonehundred
bucks.I’dlendahand,makingsurethatshewouldn’t
havetodoanyheavylifting.

Andstill,notsomuchasathanksfromMac.

Isighedasshedrewcloser.Iwaswipingdownthe

plane’swindshield,perchedcarefullyoverthewater.
TheplanewasstillparkedbehindTanner ’sFreshFish
Market,asIhadpaidabitextratoparkitthereuntilI
foundabetterplace.

“Itlooksnice,”Macsaidassheapproachedthe

plane.“You’vewashedit?”

“Andwaxedit.”

Shenoddedslowly.Itcouldtellitpainedhertopay

meortheplaneanysortofcompliment.

“IalsohadtheonemechanicinSitkathatknew

anythingaboutplanestolookoverit.”

“NelsonBritt,right?”sheasked.

“Yeah.”

“He’sgood.Wellknownwiththelocals.”

Shesaidlocalsasifitmadehermuchbetterthanme.

SheverybadlywantedmetofeelthatIwastheoutsider
thathadswoopedinandstolenherdreams.

“Anyway,”Isaid,determinednottolethergetunder

myskin,“hetweakedafewthingsandgaveitthea-ok.
Sowe’regoodtogo.Allofyourstuffisloadedupin
thebackandwe’rereadytofly.”

“Good.”

Good,Ithought.Stillnothanks.

Ireachedupandopenedthesmallcockpitdoorfor

her.“Ladiesfirst,”Isaid,doingmybesttosound
genuineandchivalrous.

Shelookedintotheplaneasifshewasinspectinga

questionablemelonatthesupermarket.Shetookastep
closer,asifsheintendedtopullherselfupandcrawl
inside,butthenhesitated.

“Whatisit?”Iasked.

You’resureyoucanfly?”

Irolledmyeyes.“Yes.Mypilot’slicenseisonboard.

Ifyoulike,Icangiveyouthephonenumberofmyflight
instructor.Hemayevenbeabletoemailushisnotesand
theresultsfrommytests.”

Thejabannoyedher,whichwasevidentbythe

menacinglookshegaveme.Shesaidnothingandpulled
herselfupbythesmallmetalbarinstalledalongtheedge
ofthefloor.Ihadsecretlybeenhopingthatshewould
strugglewithit,butshewasprettyagile.Sheclimbed
overthepilot’sseatandintothepassengerseat.When
shewassittingascomfortablyasshecouldget,she
lookedoutofthewindow,intothewater.Isaw
somethingpassacrossherface—somethingthatmight
havebeenfear.

Oh,thisisgoingtobefun,Ithought.

Iclimbedintothecockpitandstrappedmyselfin.She

followedsuit,takinggreatcaretowatchme,making
sureIwasfollowingallthepropersteps.Ithenreached
betweentheseatsandhandedheraclipboard.

“Thisisyourinvoice.Everythingispresentand

accountedfor.Itendedupbeingprettyheavy,sothefuel
costforthistripisgoingtobemorethanIexpected.I’d
appreciateitifyoucouldchipin…partner.”

“Yeah,”shesaid.

AsIstartedtheengineandcheckedallofthepanels,

itoccurredtomethatthingswerebeginningtofeel
strangebetweenMacandI.We’dneverreallygotten
alongsincethewholeordealwiththeplane.Butstill,
therehadbeenthatlurkingfactthatwehadbeenfairly
timidandborderlineflirtatiouswitheachotherbeforeit
hadhappened.

Butnowtherewasnothingbutangstbetweenus.It

feltthickandsharpintosmallinteriorspaceofthecabin.

“Haveyouflownbefore?”Iaskedher.

“Ofcourse.”

“Inasmallpersonalplanelikethis?”

“Once…whenIwasten.”

IalmostsaidIguessthat’swhyyoulookconstipated

rightnow,thenbutIkeptittomyself.Ireallydidwantto
trytomakeittoQueenCharlotteIslandwithoutus

blowingupateachother.WhileIdidwanttogetunder
herskinthewayshehadgottenundermine,Ididn’twant
toenrageher.

Takeoffwentsmoothlyandmomentbeforeweleft

thewater,afewsmallchoppywavesslappedthefloats.I
noticedMacgrowrigidinherseatandIdidn’tfeelatall
badwhenItookagreatdealofpleasurefromit.

****

Wehadbeenintheairfortwentyminutesbefore

eitherofusspoke.IhatedthefactthatIbrokethesilence.
ItfeltlikewewereengagedinachildishQuietGame
andbyspeaking,Iwasessentiallyadmittingdefeat.

“Soyourgrandfatherrunsabusinesssortofsimilar

tothePineWay,right?”

“Yes,”shesaid.

IwaitedbeforeIsaidanythingelse.Shewasbeing

shortwithme,butshewasturnedawayandlookingout
ofthewindow.Thecloudcoverwasminimal,showing
thepristineblueskyaheadofus.Theseasparkedbelow,
thecoastbarelyvisibletotheleft.IguessedthatMacwas
eitherdeepinthoughtaboutsomethingoruneasyabout
theheight.

“Iassureyou,”Isaid.“I’maperfectlysafepilot.”

Sheonlynodded,butsheturnedtomefinally.She

lookedatmelikeIwasasnakeshehadjustfoundunder
anoverturnedlog.Ididn’tmind.Shewassizingmeup…
tryingtofiguremeout.I’dfeltthatsamestarefrom
severalarmyinstructorsduringmytimeintheservice.

“Letmeaskyousomething,”shesaid.

“Sure.”

“WhatisitthatmadeyoucometoSitka?”

Ismirked.“Areyougenuinelyinterestedorareyou

tryingtofigureoutthepathofeventsthatledmetoSitka
andeventuallybuyaplanethatyouwouldhave
otherwiseendedupowning?”

“Both,”shesaidwithasigh.

Everythingcametothetipofmytonguethen.Icould

haveeasilytoldhereverything:whoIreallywasand
whyIhadleftaso-calledglamorouslifebehind.Infact,
Iwantedtotellher.IfeltlikeIneededtotellsomeone.
Beforeallwassaidanddone,Iwasprettysuretheentire
storywouldcomeupinatherapysessioninthefuture.

ButIwasn’tready…especiallynotnow.IfIeverdid

spillthebeansonwhoIwasandwhyIwasinSitka,it
certainlywasn’tgoingtobetoMac.SoIfedherthe
ruse.AsItoldher,Irealizeditwasthefirsttimethe
topichadbeenbreachedwithmorethanpassingsinceI
hadmovedintothecabinonMooseHill.

“Callitamidlifecrisis,”Isaid.“Ijustgottiredofthe

lifeIwasliving.Iwantedsomethingdifferent.
Somethingunique.”

“Whatdidyoudoforaliving?”sheasked.“You

musthavehadadecentjobifyoucouldjustdropmoney
onthisplanewithoutbattinganeye.”

“Ibattedmyeyesseveraltimes,actually,”Isaid.

“Andyes,myjobpaidnicely.Buttheweightthatcame
withthedutiesandthepaycheckjustweren’tworthit.”

“Soyoujustranaway?”

“Inasense.And…doIhearjudgmentinyourtone?”

Shelookedawayquickly,onceagainstaringoutto

theendlessblueaheadofus.Itreallywasagorgeous
day.Itwouldhavebeenperfectifthemoodwithinthe
cockpitwasmorepleasant.Ihatedmyselfforthinking
suchathing,butIwonderedhowhertunemightchange

ifItoldherwhoIreallywas—ifItoldherthatshewas
actuallyflyingwithDevlinStone.

Itwassotempting.Ofcourse,sucharevelation

comingatalittleovertwenty-thousandfeetintheair
whiletrappedinthecockpittogethermightbeabit
much.Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthethought.

“What?”Macasked.

“Nothing.”

“You’resmilingaboutnothing?”

“Yes.Idoitfromtimetotime.”

“Somemightsaythat’sasignoflunacy.”

“Othersmightsayit’sasignthatsomeonetriesto

makethebestofanotherwisemiserablesituation.”

Macopenedhermouthtocontinuebutsnappedit

shut.Sheletoutaveryloudsighandthenturnedbackto
theimmaculateviewoutsideofherwindow.

Anhourandfortyminutestogo,Ithought.Thisis

goingtobealongtrip.

FiveminutespassedbeforeIdecidedtobreakthe

silenceagain.Thehumoftheengineswassoothingbut
intandemwiththehostilitybetweenus,itwassortof
foreboding.Totheleft,thecoasthadbasically
disappeared.Therewasnothingbuttheoceanbeneathus.
TherewasastringofsmallislandsupaheadthatIwas
expectingtocreepintoviewatanymoment.

“Myturntoaskaquestion,”Isaid.

Shesaidnothing,andItookthatasa'sure...go

ahead'.

Right.Timetobeblunt.“Whydoyouhateme?”I

asked.“Arewereallygoingtotrytopretendthatwe
weren’tintoeachotherthefirsttwotimeswesawone
another?”

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”shesaid.

Buttheslightrednessinhercheeksindicatedotherwise.

“Ifyousayso,”Isaid,turningbacktothecontrol

panel.

“Andbesides…notthatitmatters,”shesaid.“ButI

don’t...hateyou.”

Ichuckled.“That’sprettyhardtobelieve.”

“Idon’t.It’sjustthat…Idon’tknow…Igetsotired

ofpeoplecomingformoutoftownandbuyingoutthese
businessesthatIhaveseenblossomandgroweversince
Iwasachild.Thesebigcompaniesorhotshot
millionairescomeintotownandjustbuythemup.I’m
notsayingyou’reoneofthosepeople,butwhatyou’re
doingisprettymuchthesame.”

“Uh...no.Notreally.Notatall.”Iactuallythoughtit

wasastupidcommentandtookgreatoffensetoit.ButI
wouldn’tletherknowthat.

“Icouldhavehadthisplaneifyouhadn’thave

movedinuponMooseHillandtookitfromme.”

“Sowhatyou’resaying,”Isaidsarcastically,“isthat

nooneshouldevermovetoSitkawithoutmakingsure
theywon’tbepurchasingsomethingaheadofyou.Isthat
correct?Ifso,youshouldcallthecitycouncilandask
themtoincludeitintheirliterature.”

“Smartass.”

“Sometimes,”Iagreed.“ButIalsotendtoget

defensivewhenIamaccusedofsomethingandamnotin
thewrong.”

“Iwantedthisplane.”

“AndIhadnoidea,Mac.Besides…bysigningthat

contract,theplaneissortofyours.”

Shecrossedherarmsoverhercheststubbornly.

“YouknowwhatImean.”

“Ido.ButIthinkit’sfoolish.Hell,youdon’teven

haveyourlicense.”

“Howhardcanitbe?Iplannedtogetone.Ifyoucan

fly,itcan’tbebutsohard.”

“It’sreallynot,”Isaid.Ithentookmyhandsoffof

theyoke,raisingthemintheair.“Goaheadandtake
over.”

Hereyesgrewwideandforjustamoment,Isaw

excitementinthem.Butthatwasquicklyflushedoutby
angerandfear.

“Don’tbeanasshole,”shesaid.“Putyourhandsback

onthat!”

“Yousure?”

“Yes!”

Ishrugged.“Okay.Butdon’tsayIneveroffered.”

Iregainedmygripontheyolk.Ahead,Isawoneof

theislandspopintoview.Iwasunfamiliarwiththis
regionandhadnoideawhatitwascalled.AllIknewthat
wasthatwewereheadedfortheQueenCharlotteIslands.

AndasfarasIwasconcerned,thosemilescouldn’t

blazebyfastenough.

Macsatbackinthepassengerseat,herarmsfolded

overherchest.Shewascuteashell,lookinglikea
spoiledlittlegirl.ButIdidn’tcare.Shehadmanagedto
pissmeoffandallIcoulddonottoyellatherwasto
keepmyeyesahead,onthehorizonandtheskyasit
unfoldeditselfinfrontofus.

13—Mac

IdidmyverybesttohidethefactthatIwas

impressedathowwellJackflewtheplane.Ihatedit…it
wasasifhehadalwaysmeanttoownthedamnplane.
Evenwhenhetookitinforalandingjustbehind
Grandfather ’sstore(alsoonthewater,aswasThePine
Way),hedidsoasifhehadbeenflyingprofessionally
foryears.

ButIkeptmyscowlon,myarmscrossed.Yes,Idid

feelabitlikeachildgivingtheirmomordadthesilent
treatment,butIdidn’tknowhowelsetoact.Thehellofit
wasthatIcouldfeeltheedgesofmyangersoftening.I
stillresentedhimlikenobody’sbusiness,butIalsoknew
thatstayingmadathimaftersigningacontracttogo
intobusinesswithhimwasnotonlycounterproductive,
itwasalsojustdownrightstupid.

Aftersecuringtheplane,Jackclimbedoutand

openeduptheplane’ssidedoor.Heunfoldedasmall
metalrampthatclangeddownonthesturdypierthatled
tothesmalldustylotthatsatbehindmygrandfather ’s
shop,TheOutdoorsman.

JackandIbothlookedup,seeingthequainttownall

aroundthestore.ThestorewaslocatedinGraham
Island,oneofthemanylittleislandsthatmadeupthe
QueenCharlotteislands.Itwasidyllic,likesomething
outofanisland-basedTVshowthatdrewlowratings
duetoalowbudgetandanot-toocharismaticcast.Itwas
acutelittletown,buteverytimeIvisited,Ihadnoidea
howmygrandfatherlivedherewithoutgoingalittlestir
crazy.

“Comeon,”Isaid,withoutmuchenthusiasm.“I

guessIshouldintroducethetwoofyoufirst.”

Aswewalkedupthepierandtowardsthestore,a

harrowingthoughtoccurredtome:Grandfatherwas
goingtogivemehellforthis.Hewasgoingtoriband
jokeabouthowJackandIwouldmakeanicecouple.
Actually,Ifullyexpectedhimtoaskhowlongwehad
beentogetherwhenIintroducedhimtoJack—although
theoldfartknewIwasn’tdatinganyone.

Wewalkedupthepierandtoasmallsidestreetthat

ranalongsideGrandfather ’sstore.Thestreetsweren’t
busy,butnotdeadeither.Therewereafewscattered
touristsminglingwiththelocalsandaverymildflowof
traffic.Roofsofseveralprofessionalfishingboatscould
beseenbetweenalleyways.

WeenteredTheOutdoorsmanandIwasnot

surprisedtofindtheplacedead.Ialsofounditindire
needofagooddusting.I’llgiveGrandfatherone
thing…hehadthesmelldown.Thescentofthestore
madeyouinstantlythinkofbeingoutside.Itsmelled
staleandslightlydirty.

“Mac!”

Iheardhisvoicefromthefrontofthestoreand

followedit.Itwasthickandgrufffromthethirty-five
yearsofhislifehehadspentsmoking.Whengrandma
haddiedoflungcancer,adirectresultofherown
smoking,Grandfatherhaddroppedthehabitcoldturkey.
Ifhewastobetrusted(andIbelievedthathewas),he
hadn’tputacigarettetohislipsinjustabouttenyears.

Iwalkedtothefrontandfoundhimhunkereddown

inthefloor,restockingashelfoftrailmix.Ithurtmy
hearttoseehowmuchheseemedtohaveagedinthe
fivemonthsthathadpassedsinceIhadlastseenhim.
Rightdowntothelackofanysortofreallusterinhis
eyes,helookedtohaveagedfiveyears.Iwashappyto
seetheslightglimmerofhappinessinthoseeyeswhen
hesawmecomearoundthecorner.

Hestoodupandgavemeahug.Iwasrelievedtosee

thathewasn’tasfrailashelooked;hestillhadsomeheft
tohim,particularlyaroundthegut.Hislonghairwas

almostallgraynow,exceptforthefewstrandsofblack
justinfrontofhisears.

“It’ssogoodtoseeyou,”hesaid.

“You,too,”Isaid.

GrandfatherwastheonlyfamilyIhadleft.Withdad

deadandmotherhavingremarriedandmovedonthe
othersideofthecountry,GrandfatherwasallIhad.

Oncethehugwasbroken,Jacksteppedupand

offeredhishand.

“De…sorry,excuseme,JackKeith.”

IwonderedifJackwasactuallynervoustobe

meetingsomeonethatwassoclosetome.Heseemedto
betrippingoverhiswordsabit.Iwatchedastheyshook
handsandfeltasiftwototallyseparatesidesofmy
worldwerebeingthrowntogetherathighspeeds.

“SmittyLowery,”Grandfathersaid.“Nicetomeet

you.Mactoldmeabouttheplaneandyourwillingness
tohelp.Isuredothankyou.”

“Notaproblematall,sir.Ifyoucanletmeknow

wherethesuppliesneedtogo,Icanstartunloadingitall

foryou.”

“Here,I’llshowyou,”Grandfathersaid.“AndI’ll

lendahandasbestasIcan.”

“Me,too,”Isaid,notwantingmygrandfatherto

blowhisbackbytryingtoliftanythingheavy.

Grandfathergottwodolliesfromthebackofthe

shopandwerolledthemaroundtotheback.Pushing
themdownthepier,IwonderedifJackhadalwaysbeen
thispoliteandhelpful—butIhadjustmisseditduetothe
awkwardsituationandmyinsistenceonhatinghim.

I’mnotbeingfairtohim,Ithought.

Itcameoutofnowhere,anditstung.Itwastrue.

Whenyouboiledthesituationdowntoitscore,Iwas
sortofbeingabitch.Iwasactingspoiledandtakingit
outonJack.Sowhatthathehadbeatenmetothepunch
whenitcametobuyingtheplane?Whatdidheoweme?
Nothing.Itwasbusiness…plainandsimple.

Iwatchedhimashestartedtounloadsomeofthe

heavierboxes,slidingthemtotheedgeofthepane’s
hatch.Oncehehadafewofthemoutoftheway,hethen
didhisbesttoanglethetwocratestotheedgeofthe
hatch;thecratescontainedkayaksandthenowmobile

whichwerethepivotalpartofGrandfather ’sorder.

Istoodwithoutmoving,watchingJackmovethe

boxesandcrates.Heshiftedthemlikeamanthatwas
usedtoshiftingaroundheavythings.Iwatchedhis
musclesflexingunderhisshirtandthelookofstern
determinationashemovedthingsaround.Ifeltmyself
gettingwhatmymotherhadcalled“twitterpated,”a
stupidphraseshehadliftedfromBambi.Italsobrought
tomindahilarioussexualphraseIhadpickedupfrom
Sophie,myroommateincollege.Ifshehadseenme
then,watchingJackmovetheboxesandcratesaround,
shewouldhaveaskedme,plainandsimple:“Isthat
makingyourgirlpartsthump?”

Isnickeredattheremembranceofthatsillyphrase

andwasalsoveryawarethatIwasfeelingaslight
stirringinsomeplacesthatusuallyremainedcalmand
inactive.God,whatisitaboutthatguy?

Iwentawkwardlytotheedgeofthehatchand

offeredmyhelp.Icouldn'trememberthelasttimethatI
feltsogiddyandturnedon-itmademeseverely
uncomfortable.Itriedtodeflectitwithconversationwith
Grandfatherbutitwasonlymarginallyeffective.Idid
everythingIcouldtoavoidJackbutitwashard,ashe
wasallovertheplace.Hewasdoingthebulkofthe
workandgenuinelydidn’tseemtomind.

Ittookfifteenminutestogetallofthegoodsoffof

theplane.AsJackcontinuedtoslideandliftboxesand
cratesoff,Irolledsomeofituptotheshopononeof
thedollies.Allinall,ittookaboutforty-fiveminutesto
getitallunloadedandputawayinthebackofThe
Outdoorsman.Thehardestpart,ofcourse,wasgetting
thecrateswiththekayaksandthesnowmobileupthe
pier.Ittooksomesloggingwithbothdollies(andsome
impressiveliftingskillsbyJack)butwemanagedtoget
itallinsidewithoutevent.

Inthebackroom,whereGrandfatherproudlywent

overhisinventorylist,heclappedJackontheback.“My
God,son…you’reabeast!”

“Nah…Ijusttrytostayfit.”

“Whateveritis,Iappreciatethehelloutofit.The

leastIcandoisfeedyou.”

“Notnecessary.”Jacksaidwipedhisbrowwithhis

wristandstretchedhisback.

Grandfatherturnedtomeandshookhishead.“He

doesn’tunderstand,doeshe?”

“No,”Isaidwithachuckle.Then,turningtoJack,I

added,“Youcan’twinanargumentwithhim.Sojust
smileandnod.Lethimbuyyoulunch.”

“You,too,”Grandfathersaid,wrappinganarm

aroundmyshoulders.“Rightnow.Comeon.I’m
starved.”

Withoutwaitingforeitherofus,heheadedthrough

thestockroomdoorandintothestore.

“Ilikehim,”Jacksaidwithasmile.

“Yeah,he’sprettygreat,”Iagreed.

Wefollowedhimintothestore,Jackleading.Isawa

slightsweatstainonJack’sbackanditmademeonce
againappreciatewhathehaddoneforGrandfatherand
myself.Andbeyondthat,itmademeappreciatethebody
undertheshirt.

IheardSophieinmyheadagainandshutherout

immediately.IrolledmyeyesandfollowedJackinto
TheOutdoorsman.

****

Grandfatherchoseasmallsandwichshopforlunch.

ItlookedlikeaSubwaybutwaslocallyownedandhad

specialtysandwiches.Itwasacutelittleshop,echoing
theotherquaintbusinessesallaroundit.Despitetheair
havingaslightniptoit,wesatoutontherestaurant’s
patiotoenjoyourlunchandthescenerytogether.

JacklistenedidlyasIcaughtupwithmygrandfather.

Hetoldmeabouthowhehadbeenspendinghislastfive
monthsand,asusual,therewerethingshedescribed
aboutspendinghistimealongthatbotheredme.He’d
alwayshadabadhabitofsugar-coatingthingsandIhad
longagolearnedtolookpastthatandtothetruthof
whatwasreallygoingon.AndwhatIgatheredabouthis
lastfivemonthswasessentiallymuchofthesame.

Hewasdrinkingmorethanusual,whichwas

obviouslynotgood.Buthewasalsospendingmoretime
withhisfriends,whichwasgreat.Fromtimetotime,
Grandfatherwouldslipintodepressedstatesandholdup
inhishousefordaysonend,oftennotevenbotheringto
openTheOutdoorsman.Hespentmostofhistime
watchinghockeyorfishing—onlyhisideaoffishing
wascastingalineintothewater,thinkingabout
grandma,andkillingasixpackorso.

Iknewdeepdownthatheonlyhadanothertenyears

orsotolive.Hewasonlyseventy-onebutIhadgone
backthroughourfamilyhistoryafewyearsbackand
sawthattherewereabsolutelynomenonmymother ’s

sideofthefamilythatlivedpasteighty.Ialsoknewthat
thedrinkingwasprobablygoingtoexpeditetheprocess,
butIdidn’thavethegutstomentionittohim.Whenever
Iwouldoffhandedlymentionhisexcessivedrinkingto
him,hesimplybrusheditoffandchangedthesubject.

Soweateourlunchashetoldusabouthisdaily

routines.Abouthalfwaythroughthemeal,heattacked
mewiththealmost-jokingquestionthatIhadbeen
expecting.

“Sohowlonghaveyoutwobeenseeingeachother?”

heasked.

Jacklaughed.Iblushedandlookedtotheground.

“Wearen’t,”JackandIsaidatthesametime.

“Weareinbusinesstogether,though,”Jacksaid.

“Yes,inasense,”Iadded.

“Anybigplansforitsofar?”Grandfatherasked.

Ijumpedinandtoldhimaboutmydesiretofly

peopleouttoremotelocationsforcamping,hunting,
fishingandhiking.Tomysurprise,Jackalso
contributedtotheexplanation,evenmakingsurethathe

letGrandfathergettheimpressionthatitwasmyidea.

“Sohowdidyoutwomeet,then?”Grandfather

asked.

“Istoleherplanefromher.Wedidn’tknowthatwe

werevyingforthesameplaneandImanagedtobuyita
daybeforeher.”

“Oooh,”Grandfathersaid.“Ibetshedidn’tlikethat!

Iknowhermoods…shedoesn’thandledefeatwell.”

“I’mlearningthat,”Jacksaid,onlyhalf-sarcastically.

AbriefsilencefelloverthetableandIthink

Grandfatherfeltthetensionandawkwardnessinitright
away.HeclearedhisthroatandturnedtoJackasifthe
lasttensecondsofconversationhadneverhappened.

“Sowhendidyoulearntofly?”heasked.

“WhenIwasincollege.Ithadnothingtodowithmy

careerpath;itwasjustsomethingthatIhadalways
wantedtolearntodo.”

“Whatdidyoustudyincollege?”Grandfatherasked.

“Notmuch,”Jacksaid.“Idroppedoutafterthree

semestersandjoinedtheArmy.”

“Oh,yeah?Seeanycombat?”

InoticedahesitationinJack’sanswerand,unlessI

wasjustimaginingit,aflickerofdoubtinhisusually
coolexterior.

“Idid.InAfghanistan.”

Myheartdropped.Mybrotherhadbeenkilledin

combatinAfghanistan.TohearJackmentiontheplace
wasalmostlikeaslaptotheface.IsawthatGrandfather
waslookingsympatheticallyatme.Hereachedoverand
tookmyhand.

****

Afterlunch,wewalkedbacktoTheOutdoorsman

whereGrandfathergaveJackatouroftheplace.He
invitedustostayfordinneraswell,butIdidn’twantto
betoolategettingbackhomeandJackclaimedtonotbe
entirelycomfortableflyingatnight.

Imannedthestore—notahugetask,asonlyas

singlecustomercameinforthehourweremainedthere
—whileJackandGrandfathercrackedopenthecratesin
theback.IlistenedtothemworkasIthoughtabout

DavidandhowdevastatedIhadbeenwhenI’dgottenthe
phonecallabouthisdeath.Backthen,I’dstillhada
husbandtorelyonforsupportand,oddlyenough,Ihad
feltasifDavidhaddiedagainaftermyhusbandhad
walkedout.

JackandGrandfathercamebackintothestore,

slightlysweaty.Westartedsayingourawkward
goodbyes,JackandGrandfathershakinghandsagain
andexchangingphonenumbers.Jackapparentlysensed
thatweneededsomeprivacytosayourgoodbyes,sohe
steppedout,headingdownthepiertostarttheplane.

Grandfathersmiledatmeonceweheardtheengine

startup.Hesighedandshookhishead.

“What?”Iasked,puttingahandonmyhip.

“Sowhat’swrongwiththatone?”

“Thatone?”

“Yes.Him.What’swrongwithhim?Icansensethat

heirritatesyou.”

“Hedoesmostofthetime.It’sstupid,though.A

spoiledbratsortofthing.”

“Madthatheboughttheplanebeforeyou?”

Igavemyownsighthen.“Ireallydon’twanttotalk

aboutit.”

“Fairenough.Heseemsnice,though.Wouldyou

maybegivehimachance?”

“Grandfather…really,”Isaid.

Hehelduphishandsinamockgestureofsurrender.

“Iknow,Iknow.Buthey,Ilikedhim.Ifyoueverhead
outthiswayagain,itwouldn’tbesobadifhetagged
along.”

“I’llkeepthatinmind.”

“Ialsosawhowshockedyouwerewhenhe

mentionedAfghanistan.YoubeenthinkingaboutDavid
lately?”

“Daily,yes,butnotenough.Notasmuchashe

deserves.”

“It’sokaytomoveon,”Grandfathersaid.“It’s

rememberingrespectfullythatcounts…evenifitisn’tas
frequentlyasitusedtobe.I’mthesamewayaboutyour
grandma,youknow.”

“Iknow.Thanks.”

HegavemeahugthenandIrealizedthatImissed

himterribly.Atonetime,Ihadtriedconvincinghimto
movetoSitka,buthewouldn'tevenconsideredit.Ithink
hemuchpreferredthesolitudeandbeingabletodoas
hepleased.Hedidn’tliketheideaofsomeonelookingto
himforsupport,evenifitwasonlyemotionally.

“Takecareofyourself,Mac,”hesaid.

“You,too.”

Igavehimakissonthecheekandthenhewalkedme

tothefrontdoor.HewavedmeawayasIwalkeddown
thestreetandtothepier.Ifollowedthesoundofthe
plane’sdroningpropellersandsawJackstandingbythe
openeddoor,waitingtohelpmeinside.Helookedup
andsmiledbriefly.

“Youokay?”heaskedwhenIreachedhim.“You

looksad.”

“It’shardleavinghim,”Isaid.“He’stheonlyfamily

Ihaveleft.”

Andwiththatstatement,itdawnedonmethatIhad

revealedmoretoJackaboutmypersonallifeatthat
momentsinceIhadmethim.

“I'msorry,”hesaid.“I'msureitmustbehard.”He

helpedmeintotheplaneandwhenhetookmyhandto
helpmeup,Godhelpme,Ididn’twanthimtoletgo.

14—Devlin

IhadneverreallybeensurewhyIdidn’tliketoflyat

night.Ihaddoneitseveraltimesbefore,mostlyduring
mylessons,andfoundittobedaunting.Whenthere
wasn’tanylandtoclearlyseebelowyouinminiature,it
waseasytofeelliketheentireworldhaddisappeared
andleftyouallaloneinthesky.

MacandIhaddeclineddinnerwithhergrandfather

mainlytotrytoavoidflyingthroughthedarknessfor
toolong.Buteventhen,we’dendedupleavingabout
forty-fiveminuteslaterthanwehadplanned.Ifound
myselfflyingtobeatthenightand,obviously,losingthe
race.Wewerestillaboutonehundredandtwentymiles
awayfromSitkawhendulldarknessfell.

Butafunnythinghappened;IfoundthatIdidn’t

mindflyinginthedarkwithMacsittingnexttome.It
wasnothingromanticorsentimentalaboutthefeeling.I
thinkIwouldhavefeltthesameifanyonehadhavebeen
there.Ifeltguiltyinthatmomentbecauseaverysmall
partofmewantedtobewithAubrey.Fortheslightest,
briefestofseconds,IwantedAubreytoseemeflying,to
knowthatgreatthingswerepossibleoutsideof
cosmeticsandHollywood.

“Youokay?”Macasked.

“Fine.Sortofslidingintoazone,Ithink.Notas

nervousasIthoughtIwouldbe.”

“Good.”

Shewaslookingoutofthewindowandappearedto

bedeepinthoughtaboutsomething.Iwonderedifshe
wasthinkingaboutherfamily.Shehadgivenatleasta
fewcluesjustbeforeboardingtheplanetoleavethe
QueenCharlotteIslandsthatmademewonderwhatsort
ofpainfulhistoryshemighthave.

“Yourgrandfather...he'sNativeAmerican?”Itwas

themostinnocentfamilyquestionIcouldthinkof.

“Heis.Full-bloodedHaida.”

Inodded.“Sothatmakesyou...?”

Macsmiledatme.“I'mjustaquarter.Grandmother

waswhiteandsowasMom.”

“Thatmustbeprettyinterestingthough?”

Sheshrugged.“Isupposeitis,butit'swhatI'mused

to.”

“Me,I'mprettywhitebread,soIcan'timaginethat.”

Maclaughedandturnedbacktothewindow.

Icouldn’thelpbutgrin.Thiswholeday—hell,the

lastfewdaysingettingtoknowherandlivingthrough
theordealwiththeplane—wouldmakeagreatmovie.
AndIthinkI’dbeabletofitthepartofthemalelead
perfectly.

Macwasaninterestingcharacter.Ihadalready

determinedthattheangershefelttowardsmewasn’tas
deep-rootedasshewantedmetobelieveitwas.Ialso
thoughtthatMac,deepdown,alwayswantedtoplease
everyone…andthatwassomethingthatwashardtodo
whenyouwerebusyfakinganintensehatredfor
someone.

“Anythoughtsonourfirstexcursion?”Iaskedher.

“Itwentreallywell.Thanksforyourwillingnessto

helpmewiththeorder.Itmeantalottohim.Andtome,
too.”

“Ofcourse.Stillpissedatme?”

Sheshrugged.Icouldseesomethingresemblinga

smileworkingatthecornersofhermouth.“Idon’t
know,”shesaid.“I’llbehonestwithyou,Jack.Idon’t
evenknowwhy—,”

Shewasinterruptedbyaloudbangingnoise,

followedbyatremendousjostlingoftheentireairplane.
MacyelpedandIwentrigidatthecontrolsastheplane
dippedhardtotheleft.Analarmstartedgoingoff
overhead,awhiningbeepingnoiseaccompaniedbya
smallorangeflashinglight.

“Whathappened?”Macasked,clearly,and

understandablypanicked.

Ihadbeenfortunateenoughtohavenever

experiencedanysortofmechanicaltroublesduringmy
timeinthesky.Ihadloggedinnearlyonehundredand
fiftyhours,sothatwassayingsomething.Imadeuseof
myarmytrainingandshovedmypanicofanunfamiliar
situationtothebackofmyhead,lookinguptothealarm
asIrightedthedip.TheplanefoughtagainstmeandI
couldhearapeculiargratingnoisecomingfromtheleft
sideoftheplane.

“Uh,what’shappening?”

Shewasclosetotearsnow,sittingbackinherseatso

farthatIthoughtshemightsnapthebackofthechair
straightoff.

“Oneoftheengineshasgonedown,”Isaid.OnceI

voicedit,Iwassurprisinglycalm.Iknewthatitwasvery
possibletoflyaplanethatwasdownoneengine.Of
course,Ihadneverdoneitbefore.And,worsethanthat,
IknewthatIneededtolandrightaway.Theproblemwas
thatitwasdarkashellbelowusandwewereflying
acrossthesea.Icouldcruisetotheeast,towardsthe
coast,butIwasn’tsureifthatwouldbepushingmyluck.

Theplaneshudderedandjerked.Macletoutanother

yelp.“Canwemakeit?”

“Yeah.Ijustneedtoland.Quickly.”

“Doyouknowwhereweare?”

“Notcloseenoughtomakeithome,”Isaid.“We’re

lookingatawaterlanding.Which,becausethisisafloat
plane,shouldn’tbeanissue.Itmightbeabitrough,
though.”

“Sowearen’tgoingtocrash?”

“Notunlesssomethingelsegoeswr—,”

Theplanejoltedanddroppedsuddenly.Ifeltmy

stomachlurchaswedroppedatleastfiftyfeetbeforethe
planerighteditself.

“Whatwasthat?”Macshrieked,nearlyclimbingup

herseatlikeafrightenedcat.

Ihadnoideawhatitwas,butdidn’tdaretellherthat.

Instead,Iliedandsaid,“That’snormalforengine
failure.ButIneedtolandrightnow.Youready?”

Sheshookherheadforamomentandthensighed.

Sheclosedhereyes,wipingatearoffofhercheek.

“We’llbeokay,”Isaid,prettysureitwasthecase.

Istillhadcontroloftheplane,althoughIwashaving

tofightitabit.Ifeltavibrationinthesteeringcolumn
thathadn’tbeentheretwominutesago.Iwasalso
startingtosmellsomethingburning,comingfromthe
leftsideoftheplane.

Igraduallyeasedtheplanedown.Ittiltedtotheleft

againbutIrighteditquickly.Outside,thenightseemed
toshift.Iwasgettingslightlynauseousanddid
everythingIcouldtokeepitfromMac.Itriedtolookin
controlandconfidentasIcontinuedtolowertheplane.

Theseabecamemuchclearerbelowus,thecrest

headsofwaveslikelittlewhitecracksintheocean.I
figuredwewere,atworst,twoandahalfmilesfromthe
coastandanhourorsoawayfromourdestination.
Whilewewerefarfrominthemiddleofnowhere,I
thoughtitmighttakeagoodamountoftimetohave
someonecomegetus.

Then,likesomerandomblessingspitupbythesea,I

sawanislandcreepintoviewaheadofus.Whiletheland
lookedflatandrelativelyplain,itwasasgorgeoustome
asanyimaginedParadise.

Iwasn’tsureiftheplanewasgoingtomakeitthat

far,though.Iwasn’tquitesurewhatwasgoingon,but
theimportantthingwasthatIstillhadcontrolofit.We
weredescendingabitquickerthanIwouldhaveliked,
butitcouldhavebeenmuchworse.

“Ithoughtyousaidawaterlandingwasperfectly

safe,”Macsaid.

“Itis.Butitalsomeansthatwe’dbebobbingupand

downinthePacificOceanuntilsomeonecomestoget
us.Andthatcouldbeaverylongtime.IfIhaveachoice
betweenwaterandland,I’malwaysgoingtochoose
land.Wehavetolandjustalongtheshore,ofcourse,
becausethisisafloatplane,butitshouldn’tbetoohard.”

“Okay,”shesaid.

Icouldtellthatitkilledhertobeinapositionwhere

shehadtotrustme.Butwhenherlifewasontheline,I
guessitwaseasyforhertodo.

Thealarmcontinuedtoshriekandthelittleblinking

orangelightfilledthecabinwithaneeriepulsingglow.
Theseakeptdrawingcloser,theshapesofeachwave
moredefinednow.ThereadoutsshowedthatIwasnow
atfifteenhundredfeetandfromwhatIcouldtell,the
islandwasslightlycloserthanthat.IfIcouldkeep
controloftheplane,we’dmakeittotheisland.

Butiftheplanecontinuedtoshakethewayitwas,I

didn’tknowhowmuchlongerI’dbeabletocontainit.
Thefailedenginewaseasytodiagnose;itwashardto
miss.ButIcouldn’timmediatelyfigureoutwhatother
problemstheplanewashaving.Fornow,though,Idid
mybesttofocusonlyongettingtheplanesafelyoutof
thesky.

Wewereattwelvehundredfeet,thenaonethousand.

TheoceankepthurtlingtowardsusandIhadamorbid
thought…Iwonderedifthiswaswhatitlookedliketoa
manthatlauncheshimselfoffofabuildingwhenkilling
himself,watchingtheconcretecomebarrelingup

towardsyouatdizzyingspeeds.

Macwasmakingaslightscreechingsoundaswe

descended.Theplanecontinuedtovibrate,withthe
occasionallurch.WenearedtheoceanandIpulledup
justslightly.Iobservedtheislandaheadofus.Thewater
surroundingitwascalmforthemostpart.Afew
scatteredtreessatinthedistancebutitlookedlikea
fairlysafelanding.

Foronesickeningmoment,rightaroundthetimewe

wereattwohundredfeet,IthoughtaboutAfghanistan.I
recalledflyingawayfromthesceneinthehelicopter,
coveredinthebloodoftheonlymanIhadbeenableto
pullfromthebattlezone,onlytowatchhimdie.The
memorycameoutofnowhereandmademefeeldizzy.I
wasgoingupinthememoryandcomingdowninthe
present.

ThismemorysnaredmeuntilIfelttheplanehitthe

water.MacandIwerejoltedviolentlyforwardandthe
planespunslightlytotheright.Iinstantlyfelttheslow-
rollingwavesrockingusgentlyandknewthatwewere
okay.

Maclookedovertome,fearinhereyes.Weshareda

weirdlookbetweenoneanother,partterrorandpart
relief.Wewerestillstaringuncertainlyatoneanother

whentheplanemadeasoftskiddingnoiseasthefloats
madecontactwiththestonybeach.

“Okay,”Isaid,speakingoutloudnotonlytoinform

Macofwhatneededtohappennext,buttoalsowalk
myselfthroughtheprocess.“WeneedtogetoutandI
needtotieusoffsomehow.SowhenIgetout,youcome
rightbehindme,okay?”

“Yeah,”shesaid,stillfrazzled.

Ireachedbehindthepilot’sseatandgrabbedthetie-

downsthatMr.Tannerhadalsousedforcountlessyears.
IthadbeenyearssinceIhadsecuredafloatplane,butit
allcamebacktomeaswesatthereintheplane,the
waveslappingatthebottom.

Itookthetie-downsandopenedthedoor.Thesmell

ofsaltwaterandachilltotheairseepedintotheplane.I
nearlyhoppedoutandgotoworkrightaway…Ididn’t
wanttohavetodealwithadriftingplaneasIwas
messingwiththeengine.

ButIstoppedlongenoughtolookbackintothe

plane.Macwasn’tinshockperse,butshewastrembling
slightlyandlookingoutoftheplane’swindowasifshe
wasstilltryingtofigureoutjustwhatinthehellhad
happened.

“Mac,”Isaid.

Hereyeswidenedslightlyassheturnedtome.

“Yeah?”

“Wemadeit,”Isaid.“We’reokay.”

“Yeah,”shesaidagain,noddingabsently.

“Comeon,”Isaid,offeringmyhand.

Shetookitandcameslowlyacrossthepilot’sseat.I

jumpeddownintothewaterandhelpedherdown.The
wateronlycameuptoourknees,butitwasfrigid.And
thechilledairdidnothingtohelp.

Asifthecoldhadpulledherfromherstateof

disbelief,Maclookedaroundandgaveadefeatedsmile.

“Whatnow?”sheasked.

Ifastenedtheendofoneofthetoedownstotheleft

float,lookingatthesmokeissuingfromthatsideofthe
plane.

“Now,”Isaid,“wewaitforhelp.”

15—Mac

Womenhavebeenliedto.Wehavebeentoldthatthe

keytoromanceisspontaneityandadventure.Stupid
moviesandpoorlyconceivednovelshaveindicated
thesethings.Ifwomenweretobelieveeverythingthey
seeinmoviesorreadonprinted(ordigital)pages,then
surelyIshouldhavebeenexcitedaboutcrashingonwhat
appearedtobeadesertedislandwithahot,mysterious
man.

Butthat’sallbullshit.Instead,I’mfuriousand,ifI’m

beinghonest,prettydamnscared.

I’dbeensittingonapieceofdriftwoodforthelast

fifteenminutes,watchingJackashetriestofigureout
what’swrongwiththeplane.Istaredathimwitha
certainsortofdetachment.It’sthesortofsituationwhere
youalmostwanttolaughjusttokeepfromscreamingin
frustration.

Aftergettingoutoftheplane,Icamedirectlytothis

pieceofwood.Itwassittingaboutthreefeetawayfrom
wheretheoceanlazilyslappedattheshore.Evenwithout
gettinguptoventurearoundtheplace,Ihadapretty
goodideaofwhatoursituationwas.

Theislandmightbeonehundredyardsacross.There

wasthincropoftreesbehindme,Douglasfir,Iwas
prettysure.Tomyright,aboutfiftyfeetaway,arocky
coveloopedaroundbeforeitheadedbackouttothe
ocean.Onmyleft,athingstripofbeachstretchedout
prettyfar,reachingoutintothecoldPacific.Icouldjust
barelymakeouttheplacewhereitstoppedandtheocean
tookover.Maybeinthedaylight,itwouldbepretty.But
forrightnow,inthemiserabledarkwithangryfeelings
bubblingupinmyguts,it’sHell.Wecouldhavecrashed
onthatislandfromLostandbeenbetteroffasfarasI
wasconcerned.

Ofcoursethiswashappeningtome.Whynot?

Enjoyingyourpityparty?

Itwasmydad’svoice,echoingsomethingshehad

oncesaidtomeasateen,overandover.Hhadbeen
deadfornearlytenyearsnowbutIgotthislittlequestion
inmyheadfromtimetotime.Ithadremainedthere,
nailedtomybrain,inthemonthsfollowingthedivorce.
Andhereitwasagain.

Isighedandgotupfrommylittledriftwoodbench.I

walkeddowntotheedgeofthewater.Whenitlappedat
myshoes,Iwasremindedofhowcoldithadbeenwhen

Ihadbeenplacedknee-deepintoitafterJackhadhelped
meoffandtiedtheplanedowntoatreeonthebeach.

“IsthereanythingIcando?”Iasked,hopinghe’dsay

no.

“No.”

Inodded.“Arewestuck?”

“Fornow,”hesaid.Hewaslookingatsomethingon

theundersideoftheplane’sleftwing.Hehadahatch
poppedoutandIdidnotlikethefactthathelookedasif
hehadnoideawhathewasdoing.

“Don’tmostplaneshavelittlebeaconsor

something?Imean,can’tweradioforhelp?”

“Wecould,”hesaid.“Iftheradioworked.”

“Itdoesn’t?”

“Itdidwhenweleftyourgrandpa’splace.Ithink

somethingcamedislodgedduringthecrash.I’mnot
sure.”

“Didn’tyouhaveitcheckedbeforeyouwent

flying?”

“Yes,”hesaid,clearlygettingpissed-off.“Idid.Ihad

everythingchecked,rightdowntomakingsuretheseats
hadplentyofcushion.Everything.Anditallpassedwith
flyingcolors.”

“Thenyourmechanicsucks.”

“Well,itwastheonlymechanicinSitkathatworks

onplanes.SoIhadnochoice,nowdidI?”

Itookastepbacktomydriftwoodseat.Hehad

startedtoraisehisvoiceandIhadneverheardhimlike
that.SoIresumedmyplacealongthenaturalbench,
hopingthatthefactthathewasn’tfreakingoutyetwasa
goodsign.

Icouldn’thelpthenextquestionthatcameoutofmy

mouth.IneededtoknowtheanswersoIcouldknow
whetherornotIshouldstartbeingscared.Ididn’tthink
therewouldbeanycreaturesonthistinylittleislandthat
wouldeatorotherwisekillme,buttheideaofstarving
todeathinthemiddleoftheoceanwasn’texactly
appealing.

“Canyoufixit?”

Hestoppedwhathewasdoingandlookedouttome.

Hehadatoolboxsittingonthefloatclosesttohim,and
heheldawrenchinhishand.Hewasslightlygreasy
fromwhateverhewasdoingunderthewing.Helooked
atmelikehemightrushtothebeachandbrainmewith
thewrench.

Still…

Crap,Ithought.Helookshotwhenhe’smad.

“Ithinkso.Butitwilltaketime.AndIcan’tseea

damnedthing.”

“Ok.”

Iwantedtoapologizeforrepeatedlybotheringhim,

butalsodidn’twanttogivehimthesatisfaction.Ipicked
upasmallstickfromthegroundandetchedoutatiny
SOS.Irolledmyeyesatitandthenrubbeditoutwithmy
foot.

IsatthereforanothertenminutesbeforeIheardJack

curseloudly.Thiswasfollowedbyathuddingsoundten
feetawayfrommeashethrewthewrenchontothe
rockybeach.Ilookedovertohimandsawthathewas
evenmaddernow.Morethanthat,Isawthathisshirtwas
soaked.Itwasalightcoloredshirtandeveninthedim
moonlight,Icouldseethedefinitionofhisbodybeneath

it.Hewasevenmorewell-cutunderthatshirtthanIhad
imaged.

No…

IshutthethoughtoutasquicklyasIcould.Stupid

romanticmovies…Ithought.

“Noluck?”Iasked,makingsureIpushedmyanger

aheadoftheparadingdirtythoughtsinmyhead.

“No,”hesaid.“It’sfixable,butIcan’tseeanything.”

“Whatdowedonow,then?”

Heshrugged.“We’restuckuntilthesuncomesup.

There’saflashlightinthecabin,butit’suseless.”

“Letmeguess.Nobatteries.”

“Oh,therearebatteries…butmyguessisthatthey

stoppedworkingsometimeshortlyafterMr.Tannerfirst
broughtthisplane.”

“Didyoucheckanythingontheplane?”Iasked.

Hewasstompingthroughthewaternow.Hishair

wasslickedbackwithsweatandoceanwater.Hisshirt

wasclingingtohim.Andforamoment,heremindedme
ofsomeone.IcouldhaveswornthatIhadseenhim
somewherebefore.

“Jesus,”hehissed.“Yes,everythingonthedamn

planewaschecked.Ikepttheinvoiceandchecklistthe
mechanicgaveme.Icanshowittoyouwhenweget
back.”

“Whenbeingthekeywordhere,”Isaid.

Hecameuponthebeachandstooddirectlyinfront

ofme.Isawthathewasshivering,hisarmsbrokenout
ingoosebumps.Thenighthadabitofaniptoitandthe
waterwascold.I’msurehewaspositivelyfreezing.

“Youknow,Ican’thelpbutnotice,”hesaidthrough

clenchedchatteringteeth,“thatyouappeartobemadat
me.”

“Well...”

“Myonlyquestionisifit’sbecauseofsomething

neworifit’sjustapartofthespoiledlittlebratthatis
stillpissedaboutnotbeingabletogetthenewtoyshe
wanted.”

“That’snotfair,”Isaid,standingupmeethimfaceto

face.

“Really?What’snotfairaboutit?ThatIpaidforit

beforeyoudid?That’sprettyfairtome.That’show
commerceworks,youknow?”

Hewasgoodwithwords.Ihadtogivehimthat.

Me…notsomuch.

“God,you’reanasshole,”Isaidsimply,andturned

away,headedtowardsthescragglytreesbehindme.

“I’manassholewithapilot’slicense.Whichismore

thanyoucansay.”

Ihadasighoffrustration,wantingtoscream.Igot

upandturnedmybackonhim,walkingaway.

“That'sright,Mac.Gopout,”hesaidbehindme.

Iwalkedintothetrees,notdaringtolookbehindme.

Iwalkedaimlesslyamongthescrubspruceforawhile,
kickingupsandanddebris.Iheardhimsplashingback
outintotheplane,rummagingaroundinsideofit.Iso
badlywantedtogetbackoutthereandyellathim.ButI
wasn’tsurewhatIcouldyellathimabout.

IknewthatevenifIhadhavegottentheplanefirst,I

wouldhavedonethesamethingashehad.Iwouldhave
takenittoamechanicandhaditservicedbeforeflying
out.Buthehadbeenright.Thenwhat?It’snotlikeI
couldhaveflownthething.

Ireallyambeingabitch.

Thethoughthurt,butthereitwasplainandsimple.I

lookeduptothesky,hopingtocalmmyself,butitdidno
good.Thenightwascloudyandonlyafewstarsshined
through.AsItriedtogathermyself,Iheardthedoorto
theplaneslamshut.Thiswasfollowedbymoresmall
splashes.IlookedbacktowardstheplaneandsawJack
walkinguptothebeachwithaduffelbaginhishand.

Hehadtakenhisshirtoffandhaditflungoverhis

shoulder.God,whycouldn'titbeadark,moonless
night?Iwatchedhimfromthetreesasheopenedthe
duffelbag.Hetookoutasmallhandtowelstainedwith
greaseandoil,usingittowipehimselfdown.Hethen
pulledadingyteeshirtoutofthebagandsliditon.I
watchedclosely,feelingslightdepressedwhenhischest
andabswerecoveredbytheshirt.

Itdidn’tmatterhowmuchIhatedhim.Theman

lookedgoodwithhisshirtoff.Helookedlikeafitness
model,almost.Watchinghim,Iwasagainstruckbythe
sensationthatIhadseenhimsomewherebefore.

Hecontinuedtodigthroughtheduffelbagandashe

did,mycuriosity(and,Iliketothink,mycommon
decency)drivemeoutofthecoverofthetrees.Iwalked
slowlytotheareawherehewasgoingthroughthebag.

“CanIdoany—,”

“No,”hesnapped.“Youkeeppouting.I’llmakesure

westaywarm.”Jackmotionedtothewoods,not
lookingatme.

IbitmytongueattheremarkIfoundwantingto

creepoutofmymouth.Iwatchedashetookoutasmall
kitwithalighter,bandages,andbottlesofwater.It
lookedlikesomecrudelittlesurvivalkit.

“Didyoupackallofthat?”Iasked.

“No.Mr.Tannerdid,alongtimeago.Hesaidhe

alwayskeptitonboardintheeventofacrash.”

“Smart.”

Jacksaidnothing.Hewasstillshivering.Although

hehadswappedshirts,hispantswerestillsoaked.The
thoughtwasinmyheadbeforeIcouldstopit…
wonderingwhathemightlooklikeifhedecidedtotake

thoseofftodry.

Aspikeofheatranthroughmybodyatthat.Itwas

particularlyprominentwithinanareaofmybodythat
hadseenverylittleactioninthelasttwoyearsorso.I
shivered.IwantedJack.

“Youreallywanttohelp?”hesaid,pullingmefrom

myeroticthoughtsofustogether.

“Yes.”

“Gobackintothetrees.Findsomewood.Nothing

big…justbrokenbranches.Somethingtostartafire.”

Igrittedmyteeth.“Iknowwhatsortoftenderwe

needforafire,”Isaidflatly.“Iownasportinggoods
store.”

HeshruggedandIthoughtIheardamumbled

“whatever,”asIturnedandheadedbackforthewoods.

AsIgatheredupwoodforkindlingandthenkicked

asidesomelargerfallenbranches,Ikeptglancingback
outtohim.TocallwhateverIwasfeelingtowardshima
crushwasmassiveoverstatement.Partofmestillhated
him.Andpartofme,honestly,wasindifferenttohim.I
triedtorationalizeitall,tellingmyselfthatIwasonly

attractedtohimatallbecausehewasthefirstmanthat
hadshownanyinterestedinme.

Thosefewdayswherewehadawkwardlyflirted

seemedliketheyhadhappenedyearsago,though.Still,
itmademewonderwhereJackandImightbeifthe
planehadn’thavecomeintothepicture.

Forone,Ithought,itwouldn’thavetakenthecold

oceantogethimtotakehisclothesoff.

“Stopit,”ImutteredasIgatheredupthewood.

Istoodthereforamoment,lookingouttothesea

frombetweenthetrees.Theplanebobbedthereuselessly
andseeingitinsuchawaymademerealizehowunfairI
hadbeentoJack.TheworstpartofitwasthatIdidn’t
evenknowwherealloftheangerhadcomefrom.WasI
reallysoentitledthatIbelievedtheplaneshouldhave
beenminejustbecauseIhadseenitfirstandbecauseI
hadlivedinSitkamywholelife?

AsIwalkedbacktowardshim,wherehewas

brushingoffanareaforthefire,Iknewthatmyoptions
weresimple.Icouldmakethispotentiallydisastrous
scenarioevenworsebylettingmyunjustifiedanger
controlme,orIcouldtrytohelpandstaycalm.

“Isthisenough?”Iasked,droppingthewoodathis

feet.

“Perfect.”

HestillsoundedangrybutIcouldtellthathewas

havingsimilarthoughts.Whymakethesituationany
worsewithhostility.

“Therearealsosomestalecrackersinthebagifyou

wantthem.”

“Mmmm,tempting,”IsaidasplayfullyasIcould,

tryingtoeasethetension.

Igotdowntomykneesandstartedspreadingthe

sticksaroundinawaythatwouldbestsupportasmall
campfire.Hejoinedinandactuallygavemeasmile—
albeitaratherstrainedone.

“What?”Iasked.

“Youdoknowwhatyou’redoing,”hesaid.

Ilaughed.“Don'tsoundsosurprised.Iwasa

tomboyasakid.Mydadtaughtmeallofthisstuff.”

“Good,”hesaid.“Nowgocatchussomefishand

we’llfeastlikekingstonight.”

Welaughedatthesametimeandsomethingaboutit

feltgood.Thetensionwasstillthere,butitwasas
fragileasthefoamthatthewavesleftbehindonoursad
littleshore.Weworkedtogethertogetthefiregoing;
Mr.Tanner ’smatcheswereasoldaseverythingelsein
thebagandwestruckeightbeforeoneactuallylit.

“I’mprettyconfidentIcanfixtheengine,”hesaid

afterthefirewasgoing.

“Good.”

“AndevenifIcan’t,we’renotfarfromthecoast.

Thechancesofanyonecrashinghereandgoingany
longerthanadayorsowithoutbeingspottedbyaboat
oraplaneareprettyslim.”

“That’sarelief,”Isaid.

Hesatclosetothefire,warminghimself.Iwasglad

toseethathehadstoppedtrembling.

Iwantedtoaskhimtotellmeabouthimself…totell

methingsthatIhadn’talreadypickedupfromour
dinnerwithGrandfather.Butitdidn’tseemright.After
treatinghimsobadly,whatrightdidIhave?

Afterafewmomentsofsilence,hestoodupand

lookedtotheplane.“Therearenosleepingbagsor
sheets,”hesaid.“ButI’vegotawett-shirtandaduffel
bagthatwecanuseaspillows.”

“Inotherwords,”Isaid,“nosleeptonight,huh?”

Heshrugged.“Wecantrytosleepintheplanebutit

mightbecrowded.”

IthoughtaboutitanddecidedthatIwouldn’tobject

tosleepingintightquarterswithJack.Especially,when
hewascoldandneededtobewarmedup.

Shutup,Ithoughttomyself.Shutup,shutup,SHUT

UP.

“Yougetthestoragecompartmentintheback,”he

said.“Youcanstretchoutthere.I’lltakethepassenger
seat.”

“Areyousure?”Iasked.

“Yeah.”

Butinsteadofgoingbacktotheplane,hehunkered

backdownbythefire.IlookedfromJacktotheplane

andthenbacktoJack.Andintheend,Istayedtherewith
him.

Suddenly,withthismaninmypresence,sleepwas

thefurthestthingfrommymind.

Andthatterrifiedme.

16—Devlin

Thesilencearoundthecampfirewasdaunting.Given

thelastfewyearsofmylife,anysortofsilencewhilein
thepresenceofawomanwasuncommon.Ihadalmost
forgottenwhatitwaslike.Iwasabletoendureitfora
grandtotaloftwominutesbeforeIhadtogetup.Ihadto
dosomething.

That’swhenIrememberedthebriefshopping

excursionIhadtakenthatmorning.I’dhadnoideathat
Mac’sgrandfatherwouldsetusupwithlunch,soIhad
takenthenecessaryprecautions.Iwentintotheplaneand
removedthesmallbrownpaperbagthatIhadtucked
awaybeneaththeseat.

WhenIgotbacktothecampfire,Iopenedthebag

and—notsoproudly—showedMacmyofferings.

“Oh,”shesaid,suppressingalaugh.“Youshouldn’t

have.”

Isetthecontentsofthebagonthesandaroundthe

fire:acanofporkandbeansandtwopacksofSaltine
crackers.

“Ididn’tthinktobringanywine,”Ijoked.“Sorry.”

Ipoppedopentheporkn’beansandpulledoutthe

oneplasticsporkIhadthoughttopack.Iofferedthem
bothtoherandshetookthemwithaslightsmile.She
lookedintothecanandstirredthebeansaround.She
lookedtobedeepinthoughtaboutsomethingandwhile
Icertainlydidn’twanttopry,Ialsocouldn’tstandthe
silence.

“Youokay?”Iasked.

“Yeah.”Itwasn’tconvincing.

“Wereallywillbeokay.Ithinkwithsomelight,I’ll

beabletofigureitout.I’mprettygoodwithenginesand
fixingdamnnearanythingyoucanthinkof.”

“That’sgood,”shesaid.Shescoopedupamouthful

ofbeansandatethem.Shegrimacedabitwhenshe
swallowedthemandpassedthemovertome.

“Thatgood,huh?”

“Mmmm.”

Webothlaughedanditwasamusicalsound.She

lookedtomeforamomentandIwasremindedofthe

firsttimewemet—whentherewasnohostilityandthere
wassimplythepleasureofmeetingsomeonenewand
seeminglyinteresting.

“Youknow,”shesaid,“IthinkIwasbeingsomething

ofabitchforthelastfewdays.Andyoudidn’tdeserve
it.”

Ishrugged.“It’snobigdeal,really.”Andrightthen

andthere,Ialmostcameclean.Ialmosttoldherabout
howIcouldusesometoughloveandhavingpeople
mistreatmebecauseoftheluxuriesIhadgrown
accustomedtooverthelastfewyears.ButIkeptallof
thatbottledup;therewasnosenseitlettingmyguilty
consciousgetinthewayofherapology.Anditwasn’t
thatIthoughtIwasowedtheapologyatall.It’sjustthat
itseemedtomethatitwasrewardingtoherinsomeway
toadmittome(and,perhaps,herself)thatshehadbeen
angryatmeoversomethingthat,inthelongrun,was
sortofsmall.

“Ijustfeellikeaspoiledlittlegirlforcomplaining

thewayIdid.”

“Seriously,it’sokay,”Iassuredher.“Igetit.”

Sheletoutasighandtookoneofthepacksof

crackers.Sheopenedoneandateoneofthecrackers

slowly,lookingouttothesea.

“So,”shesaid.“Let’schangethesubject.Whatdo

yousay?”

“Sure.Whatsortofpleasantdinnerconversationdid

youhaveinmind?”

Shesmirkedatme.“Yousaidthatyouwereinthe

army.Whatbroughtonthatdecision?”

Thequestionsurprisedme.Itwasdirectandthetotal

oppositeofthesmall-talkthatIhadbeenexpecting.Still,
Ifoundmyselfanxioustotellher.UsuallywhenIwent
intothisstory,itwasforastuffynewsreporteroran
over-hypedtalkshowhost.Itwasnicetohavethetopic
raisedinsuchasimplesetting.

“WhenIwasinhighschool,IwassureIwasgoing

togoprowithfootball.Iwasagreatwidereceiver.I
playedallfouryears.Ievenbroketheall-timeschool
recordforcatchesinaseason.ButItwistedmyanklein
mysenioryearandwasneverquiteasfast.ButIknewI
wantedtodosomethingactive—Ididn’twanttospend
mylifeinanofficeoracubicle.SoIsignedupforthe
Army.”

“Howlongdidyouserve?”

“Sixyears.IdidactivedutyinAfghanistanforthe

SpecialForces.”

“Yeah?”sheasked.IthoughtIheardsomethinglike

disbelieforsadnesssinhervoice.Itwasodd,butshe
kepton.“Whatyear?”

“Afewdifferenttoursbetween2002and2007.”

“Didyouseeanycombat?”

BeforeIcouldanswerher,theimageofthat

helicopterpoppedintomymind,sittingtheironthe
groundwithmydyingcomrade,lookingupintothose
whirlingblades.

“Yeah.Some.”

Therewassilencearoundthecampfirefora

moment.Shedrylychewedatacrackerandlookedfor
thesea,intothefire.Itseemedtomethatshewasdoing
everythingshecouldtonotlookatme.

Thiswomaniscomplicated,Ithought.Andthen,on

theheelsofthat:Aren’ttheyall?

“Youokay?”Iasked.

“Yeah,”shesaid,finallylookingupatme.

Weheldeyecontactforatleastfiveseconds.Ihave

noideawheretheurgecamefrom,butIfoundmyself
wantingtokissher.Again,thiswasaninstinctIhadbeen
abletogetawaywithoverthelastfewyears.Butnow,
withthisgoateeandthefactthatMacknewnothingabout
whoIreallywas,Iwassecond-guessingmyself.

Itwassomethingofareliefwhenshebroketheeye

contactandstoodup.“IthinkI’mgoingtoturnin,”she
said.

Then,asshestartedwalkingaway,somethinginmy

headclicked.Theconversationwe’djusthad…her
reactiontoitandtheconversationbackather
Grandfather's….itallmeantonethingandmyheart
nearlystoppedwhenitcametome.

“Whowasit?”Iasked.“Whodidyouknowandlose

thatwasintheArmy?”

Shestopped,notbotheringtolookbackatme.I

didn’tthinkshewasgoingtoanswermebutshesaidtwo
simplewordsthatmademeacheforher.

“Mybrother.”

ShestartedwalkingawaythenandInearlygotupto

followher.Ihadbeentoldbyfamilymembersthathad
lostlovedonesoverseasthattalkingabouttheirgrief
reallywasthebestthingforthepain.Anditwasclearto
meinthatmomentthatMachadnotyetspokento
anyoneatlengthaboutit.

Iopenedmymouthtocalloutforherbutdecidednot

to.Ifshewantedtotalkaboutherbrother,shewould.I
couldn’tblameherfornotwantingtoopenthatdoortoa
stranger—especiallyonethatshehadjustnowlearned
nottohate.

Iwatchedherwalkcarefullyouttotheplane,ready

torushouttohelpherifsheneededit.Shehadno
problemgettingintotheplaneandIcouldn’thelpbut
smilewhenshegentlyclosedthedoorbehindher.

Istartedeatingtherestoftheporkandbeans,

wonderingwhatMacwasthinking.Insteadofdenying
thatIwasdevelopingsomesortoffeelingsforher,I
honedinonitandtriedtofigureoutwhatitwas.

Thepastfiveyearshadbeenspentaround

voluptuouswomenthatweredamnedclosetoflawless.I
thoughtofAubreyandthewayshelookedinthosetight
littleblackdresseswiththeplungingneckline.Shewas
beautiful,therewasnodoubtaboutthat—andsource

suchasPeople,Maxim,andcountlessblogsagreed.

ButMacwas,tome,beautifultoo.Therewasa

naturalbeautythere,acasualflairthatmadehermore
naturalthananystarletinHollywoodcouldeverbe.

IsmirkedatmyselfasIfinishedoffthebeans.I

staredouttotheocean,givingMacenoughtimetofall
asleep.Ithenstampedoutthesmallcampfireandmade
mywaytotheplane.Iclimbedaboardquietly,asnotto
wakeher.Onceinside,Ipeeredintothebackandsaw
thatshewassleepingononeofthepackingblanketsthat
hadbeenleftoverfromtheshipment.

Grinning,Iploppedmyselfdowninthepilot’sseat

andtriedmybesttogetcomfortable.Ilookedouttoour
nakedlittlestretchofbeachandthoughtabouthowgreat
itwouldhavebeentohavehappeneduponthisplacewith
someoneIloved.Theideathatitseemedlikethestuffof
theromanticmoviesIhadstarredindidnotescapeme.

Withthatnotioninmyhead,IlaybackasmuchasI

couldintheseatandtriedtoletthegentlycrestingwaves
rockmetosleep.Italmostworked,butthenasudden
thoughtoccurredtome.Ithitmelikeawreckingballto
thechestandmademesituprightasifIhadbeen
electrocuted.Ilookedintothebackoftheplaneand
lookedatMac’ssleepingbody…atMacBlackwell’s

sleepingbody.

No…Ithought.There’snoway.

ButnomatterhowhardItriedtodenyit,mymind

keptgoingbacktothatdayinAfghanistan,peeringup
intothehelicopterbladesasamanbledoutonme.Isaw
thatmannow,hisfaceasclearasabell—afacethatbore
someresemblancetothewomaninthebackofmyplane.

AmannamedDavidBlackwell.

“OhmyGod,”Isaidquietly.

Ilookedbackoutthebeach,dumfounded.Andinmy

head,IcouldswearIhearthethumpthumpthumpofa
rescuecopter,comingdowntothegroundtoliftme
away.

17—Mac

WhenIopenedmyeyesthenextmorning,Inearly

shouted.Somethinghadjerkedmeawake—aloud
metallicclangingnoise.Thiswaswhathadmademe
wanttoscream,butthenIheardJack’smurmuredvoice
fromoutside.Therewasalsosomelightsplashingand
thesoundofsomethingsoftagainstthesideoftheplane.

Isatup,stretchingmyback.Ihadsleptrelatively

welllastnight,allthingsconsidered.Butthefloorofthe
plane’sloadingspacehadnotbeencomfortableonmy
back.IfeltitrightawayandknewI’dbesoreforafew
daysafterwards.

Icrepttothefontoftheplane.Morningsunshine

cameinthroughthewindows.Ilookedoutthroughthe
driver ’swindowandsawthesea.Itwasactuallyquite
beautifulinthemorninglight.Itmademefeelfoolish
andslightlynaïve,butIsuddenlydidn’tfeeltootrapped
onthislittleisland.Evenifitwasanotherdaybeforewe
wererescued,wouldthatreallybesobad?

Iheardthatmetallicclangingagain.Thistimeit

seemedmorehollow.Therewasanothersoundbehind
thisone—onethatIrecognizedfromspendingtimewith

mydadinhisshopasagirlupthroughmyteens.Itwas
thesoundsoftoolsclankingtogether.

Iopenedthedoorandpeeredout.IsawJackinthe

water,beneaththeplane’sleftwing.Ametalflapwas
openandJackwasreachingupintoit.

“Goddamnyou,youdirtyfuckingpieceofshit,”he

mutteredunderhisbreath,clearlyfrustrated.

“Youokay?”Icalledout,tryingnottolaughatthe

stringofprofanitiespouringfromhislips.

Hejumpedabit,startledbymyvoice.Hepeeredout

fromundertheflapandgavemealittlenodof
acknowledgment.“Yeah.Sorry.Justaggravated.”

“Howlonghaveyoubeenup?”

“Aboutanhourandahalf,”hesaid.

“Noluckfixingit,huh?”

Heshrugged.“That’sthething.Iknowwhat’swrong

withtheplaneandIamprettysureIcanfixit.Butthe
onlytoolsIfoundontheplanearetheequivalentofa
FisherPricestarterkit.Ishouldhavecheckedforatool
kit.Ishouldhave—,”

“Don'tbeatyourselfup,”Isaid,hoppingoutontothe

floatandthensteppingdownintothewater.Itwascold,
butnotunbearableso.Iwadedouttohim,thewater
reachingabitpastmyknees.

“AnythingIcandotohelp?”Iasked.

“NotunlessyouknowhowtofixaCBradio,”he

said.“Ican’tfigureoutwhyorhow,butthatwas
damagedinthecrash,too.”

Ithoughtthisover,andsuddenlythetranquilseain

themorningdidn’tseemsocomforting.“DoIneedtobe
worried?”sheasked.

“Idon’tthinkso.EvenifIcan’tfixthis,Ifindithard

tobelievethatsomeotherplaneorafishingboatwon’t
comealongduringthecourseofthedayandspotus.I
foundsomeflaresundertheseat;ifwehearanengine
approaching,we’lllightthemup.”

“Well,Idon’tknowhowtofixaCBradio,”Isaid.

“SoistherenothingIcando?”

“Ifyoujustneedtostaybusy,youcangomakesure

there’sanareaofbeachclearedoffwherewecould
striketheflaresupifitcomestothat.Otherthanthat,no.

Butyou’realwayswelcometositintheplaneandkeep
mecompany.”

“Aye,aye,Captain,”Isaid,smirking.

Imademywaybackuptothelittlebeach,headedfor

theburntourcampfireremainsfromthenightbefore.
AsIwaitedformyfeettowarminthesand(theywere
stillalittletinglyfromthecoldwater),Ilookedbackout
toJack,hardatworkunderthatflap.Iheardhimgive
anotherseriesofcursesandfrowned.

Ihadbeentotallyunfairtohim.Evenaftermy

awkwardapologylastnight,ithadtakenlessthanfifteen
minutesformetogetrudewithhimagain.Atthemere
mentionofhistimeinthearmy—particularlyhislast
tourinAfghanistan—Ihadshutdownonhim.Ithad
broughtupthememoryofmybrotherDavidandwhat
hadhappenedtohim.

Ofcourse,Iusuallyshutdownwhenthetopiccame

toDavid.Butlastnight,Ihadbroughtitup.Itwasjust
mystupidluckthatJack’sownexperiencessoclosely
mirroredDavid’s.

IwonderedhowJackhadfeltaboutthatstory.The

now-famousDevlinStonecomingoutofanambushas
theonlysurvivingmember.Ihadnoproblemgivingthe

manhisheroics;asthestorywent,hehadgonebackinto
theconflictevenafteritwasmostlyoverinthehopesof
rescuingothermembersofthisteam.Itwasduringthat
timethathehadmanagedtokillnineinsurgentsand
dragonesinglebodybacktotherescuelocation.

Thatonesolider,ofcourse,hadbeenDavid.

IwonderedifJackknewthewholestoryandhowhe

felt.IknewthatthefeelingsaboutDevlinStonewere
variedamongthetroops.Themanhadcomehomea
heroand,asfarasIwasconcerned,soldouttogethis
stupidfaceinmovies.Andthenitwas—

Ipausedhere,thinkingofthelastmovieIhadseen

withthatgoonitin.IlookedouttotheplanewhereJack
wasstillatwork.Ifeltlikeshehadmadesomesortof
vagueconnection,athoughtthatblurredacrossmymind
forjustamoment.Butitwasgoneassoonasithad
come.

Whatthehellwasthat?

Ishookthefeelingawayandstartedremovingbitsof

driftwoodanddeadbranchesandvegetationfromthe
beach.IsuddenlywantedtodoexactlyasJackhad
suggested;Iwantedtositintheseatandlookoutathim
asheworked.MaybeI’dtellhimallaboutDavid—how

he’sbeenanamazingolderbrotherthanhadnot
deservedtogooverseasanddieinawarthatIhadnever
agreedwith.MaybeI’dtellhimhowhe’dbeenmore
selectiveovertheboysIhaddatedinhighschoolthat
myfather.

Butno.Iwasn’treadyforthatyet.FirstIneededto

figureoutmyfeelingsforJack.Theywerethere,hiding
inthecornersofmymindlikescaredlittlerabbits.I
didn’twanttogothroughtheemotionalturmoilof
figuringoutwhattheymeant,though.Fornow,Iwas
finesneakingtheoccasionalguiltyglanceathimand
wishinghe'dtakehisshirtoffagain.

Itwasanicethought,though.Whatmightitbeliketo

finallyhavesomeoneinmylifethatIcouldsharethese
thingswith?TherewasGrandfather,buthewasabit
biased.HehadnoproblemstalkingaboutDavidbecause
he,too,hadoncebeeninthemilitaryhadwasproudto
havehadagrandsonthatdiedincombat.

And,ifIwasbeinghonest,itwasaselfishdesire.

Yes,Iwantedamantotouchme,tokissme.Wasthatso
bad?AndJackwascertainlyamanthatIwouldbe
willingtobroachthosethings.

Still…therewassomethingabouthimthatseemed

off.Ifeltabitofmyguardstillstanding—notas

steadfastasithadbeenwhenIhadbeenpissedaboutthe
plane,butstillfirmnonetheless.Icouldn’tquiteputmy
fingeronit.

ItwasthenthatIrealizedthatIhadbeenstaringout

toseaforaprolongedperiodoftime.Ishookthedaze
awayandtookadeepbreath.Jesus,Iwasbecomingsuch
awreck…andfornogoodreason.

AsIstartedbackouttowardsthewater,heavily

consideringtheoptionofopeninguptoJackabout
David,Iheardtheloudestmetallicclatteringyet.This
wasfollowedbyJackshoutingintriumph;heyelledand
whopped,insertingsomecursesthat,quitefrankly,made
mesmile.Itwasthefirsttrulyunfilteredhumanresponse
Ihadseenfromhim…asideformthesarcasmhehadI
hadbeenexchanging.

“Youokay?”Iasked.

Hisheadappearedfrombehindthemetallicflap.He

wasgrinningmaniacally.Itwasthetextbookdefinition
ofanymanthathadeverconqueredsomething.Igave
himasmilewhichhereturnedinspades.

“Hellyeah,”hesaid,pullinghimselfupontothe

floatandclimbingintotheplane.Thekeptthedooropen
asheclimbedinside.Hetriedcrankingtheplaneandit

onlysputtered.

Unperturbed,Jackleapedbackoutintothewater,

grabbedascrewdriverandasetofwrenchesfromthe
wing,andwentbackundertheflap.

“Close?”Iasked.

“Ohyeah.We’llbebackintheairwithinhalfan

hour.”

Iwasrelievedbut,oddlyenough,rathersad.Itwas

stupid.IhadwantedtofinallygetallofthisDavidand
DevlinStonecrapoffofmychest.Andnowwassimply
notgoingtobethetime.Iwasn’tgoingtobeabuzzkill
whenJackwassoclearlypleasedtohavefiguredout
howtofixtheplane’sengine.

Iwadedbackoutintothewaterwithhimandwaited.

Whenmyfeetgotcold,Iremained.Ifhecouldsuffer
throughitwhilefixingtheengine,Icoulddoit,too.I
watchedhimworking,enjoyingtheview.Hisshirtwas
wet,clingingtohischest.Andwhenhedrivethe
screwdriverundertheflapandstartedtwisting,his
muscleswereonfulldisplay.

Something’swrongwithyou,Itoldmyself.

Yeah,thatwasprobablytrue.ButIwassmiling

becauseofaman.Andithadbeenalongtimesincethat
hadhappened.

Ittookonlyanotherfiveminutesunderthewing

beforeJackwasclimbingbackupthefloat.Again,Igot
agreatviewofhismuscles.IknewthatwhatIwasdoing
couldbeconsideredinappropriatebutitdidn’tstopme.I
foundmyselfstartingtotingleabitanditwasn’tjust
formthecoldwater.Mybodyfeltalive.Ifeltalive…
forthefirsttimeinalongwhile.

Thistimewhenhetriedcrankingtheplanetolife,the

repairedengineplayednice.Itputteredforafew
momentsbutthenfinallykickedtolife.Insidethe
cockpit,Jackgavealittlefistpumpandthenlooked
downtomewithasmile.

Ismiledbackbutagain,somethinginmyheadtried

tomakeaconnection.Somethingaboutthisseemed
familiar.Itwasoneofthosedeja-vusortsofthings.Ifelt
likeIhadmetJackbefore…maybeseenhimsomewhere
before.Ishruggedthisoffasmisplacedromanticism
(perhapsoutofguiltforundressinghimwithmyeyes)

“Wanttoheadhomeorstayhereonthebeachfora

while?”heaskedme.“Icanrigupavolleyballnetand
promptlydestroyyouifyou’dlike.”

“Maybesomeothertime,”Isaidwithalaugh.

Henoddedandhoppedout.Hedashedthroughthe

water,backtothebeachanduntetheredus.Whenhe
camebacktotheplane,heassistedmeinside.Ashe
helpedmeupthefloatandintothedoor,Iwasfartoo
awareofhishandsonmyhipashehelpedmeclimb.I
climbedoverhisseatandintothepassengerspace.I
lookedouttothelittlestretchofbeach,onceagaintaken
byhowsurrealthiswas.

“Readytoheadbackhome?”heasked,settlingdown

behindthecontrols.

“Absolutely,”Isaid,smiling.

Butthehellofitwas,itwasonlyahalftruth.Partof

mewantedtobealonewithhim,notreallyfornay
lustfulreasons,butsimplytohavesomeonetotalkto.

Youcandothatathome,youknow?

Itwasagreatthought.AndasJacksteeredusback

outtodeeperwaterandstartedacceleratingtogettoa
goodflyingspeed,thatthoughtstayedinthecenterof
mymind.MaybeheandIcoulddodinneragain.

AndmaybeifIwasn’tsuchabitchthistime,Icould

getthattimealonewithhimI'dbeenthinkingof.

18—Devlin

Ihadneverhadissueswithanego.Forthethreeor

fouryearsinthespotlightwhenwomenwerescreaming
forme,whenB-listactresseswerestumblingoverone
anothertogetmeintobed,itsomehowneverwenttomy
head.Sure,ithadfeltamazingbutithadneverseemed
realtome;italwaysfeltlikeIwaswatchingabiography
onsomeoneelse’slife.

Becauseofthelackofegoandtheabilitytoremain

nailedtoreality,I’dneverbeennervousaroundwomen,
nomatterhowfamousorbeautiful.Ineverpretendedto
besomeoneIwasnotandalwaysstucktotheplainand
simpletruth:Iwasaluckymanthatdidnotdeservethe
fame,success,andattentionthatIhadgotten.

ButallofthiswentoutofthewindowasIchecked

myselfoverinthemirroronehourbeforeheadingout
tomeetMac.

AsIcombedmyhair,Ithoughtbackoverthepast

twelvehoursandwonderedhowthingshadcometothis.
Sure,spendingtimetogetheronadesertedislandwasa
surefirewaytobringpeopleclosertogether.Butneither
ofushadactuallysaidanythinginregardstogoingout

onadate.

Well,actually,Iguessthatwasmyfault.Oneofthe

fewgoodthingsabouthavingallofthosewomen
throwingthemselvesatmyfeetwasthatithonedyour
radar.Knowingwhenawomanwasinterestedinyou
startedtobecomeveryeasytodetermine.Andonthe
wayhome,flyingfromourlittleislandbacktoSitka,
Machadbeengivingmeallofthesigns.

OrsoIhadthought.Whenwelandedandstartedup

thedocktowardsthestreetthatwouldleadtothePine
Wayandtheotherbusinessesinthedowntowndistrict,
thewordshadcomerightoutofmymouth,spillingout
asiftheyhadbeenthereallalongandweretiredof
waiting.

“Let’sgettogetherfordinnertonight.”

Ithadn’tbeenaquestionandwas,infact,abitmore

thanasimplesuggestion.Shehadnoddedandsmiled
warmly.Isawinthatsmilethatshewasn’tshy,perse,
butwasn’tquitesurehowtogaugemejustyet.

Itwasthatsmile,thatuncertainglimmerofhopethat

thingscouldbeokaybetweenus,thatIwasthinkingof
asIreadiedmyselfforourdate.I’dnappedforpartof
thedayandspenttheotherpartdownatRed’sGarage—

theoneplaceinSitkathatworkedonplaneengines—
tryingtofigureoutwhatthehellhadhappenedtomy
plane.IhadlefttherewithRedtellingmeitwouldbe
anotherdayorsobeforehehadanyrealanswers.For
now,though,everythingseemedtobeinworkingorder.

Buttheplanewasthelastthingonmymind.Istared

atmyselfinthemirrorandthoughtaboutshavingmy
goatee.Withoutit,andanicehaircutandgrooming
thrownin,myidentitywouldbegivenawayeasily.I
wasn’tquitereadyforthat.Ifanythingwasgoingto
happenwithMac,IsupposedIneededtocomecleanat
somepoint.Butnowwassimplynotthetime.

IcheckedmywatchandsawthatIhadonlytwenty

minutesleftbeforeIwasduetomeether.I’dbewalking,
notwantingtoembarrassherbypullinguponmy
bicycle.AndwehaddecidedtonotmeetatPier ’sEnd
again,asithadbadmemoriesforusboth.Nosensein
jinxingthings.

SoIleftthehouseandstartedwalkingdownthehill

towardstown.TheplaceMachadsuggestedthistime
wascalledTheWharfandsatjustafewblocksaway
fromThePineWay.Itwasnearingsix-thirtyasImade
mywayintotown.IrealizedthatIwasbeginningto
recognizemanyofthefacesIpassed.WhileIwouldn’t
gosofarastosaythatSitkawasstartingtofeellike

home,itwasstartingtobecomecomfortable.

Theweatherwasgreat—aslightchillclungtothe

air,buttheeveningsunwashanginginthere.People
werewaving,andIwavedback.Iwasinatremendously
goodmood.ItwasalmostasifIhadn’tbeenfearingfor
mylifeastheplanehadbeengoingdownroughlyone
dayago.It’sfunnyhowquicklyaman’smoodshifts
whenthereisawomaninvolved.

Asifthingsweren’talreadylookingup,MacandI

arrivedatthesametime.IclosedinonTheWharfjustas
shewascrossingthestreetfortherestaurant.Shegave
measmile,whichIreturned.

“Hey,”shesaidsimply.

“Hey,”Isaidback.

Iopenedthedoorforherand,I’lladmit,gaveher

whatIhavealwaysreferredtoastheUpDown.Ichecked
heroutfromthetopofthebottomquickly.Itwasn’ta
luridsortofthing,though.Iwassimplyappreciatingthe
wayshelooked.Shewasdressedinasimpleblousewith
thinspaghettistrapsandapairofjeansthatfitwell,but
nottootight.Shelookedquitenice—somewherealong
thatoftentrickylinebetweencuteandsexy.Herhairwas
plain,combedstraightandhangingjustpassedher

shoulders.Whensheswoopedsomeofitoutofhereyes
andlookedbacktomeasshemadeherwaythroughthe
door,shefelloffofthatlineanddirectlyintosexy.

Ifollowedbehindherandasthehostessgatheredtwo

menusandfoundatableontheseatingchart,Macturned
tomeandgaveanodofapproval.

“Youcleanupnice,”shesaid.

“Thanks.”Iwaswearingapairofdarkjeansandan

olivecoloredbutton-downshirt.Itwasareasonablynice
outfit,butmilesawayfromthesortofgetupsIhad
grownaccustomedtowearingatHollywoodparties.

Thehostesswavedusontowardsanopentable,

breakingtheeyecontactbetweenus.Aswemadeout
waytothetable,IfeltsomethingintheairthatIcouldn’t
describe.Itwasanenergythatwaspresentathighschool
dancesorinthefrontseatsofcarsasyoungmen
droppedoftheirdates,parkedindrivewaysfiveminutes
beforecurfew.Iwasantsy,Iwasnervous,andIwas
excited.

Whenwewereseatedandstartedlookingoverthe

menus,Macwastednotimewithsmalltalk.Isilently
thankedherforthis.Comingupwithconversational
gambitsduringdateswassomethingIhadalwaysbeen

terriblewith.

“Sohow’stheplane?”

“Itseemsfine,”Isaid.“Redwasn’tabletofindany

onethingwrongwithit.He’sgoingtotaketomorrowto
lookoverit.Butforrightnow,he’sthinkingitwasa
fluke.”

“That’saprettydangerousfluke.”

“Yeah,Iguessitis.”

Ourwaitercamebyandtookourdrinkorders.Mac

orderedaglassofredwineandIhadapintofalocal
beerthatwasontap.

“Uh,canIaskyousomething?”

“Goahead.”

Shelookednervousashercheeksstainedafaintred.

“Thisisadate,right?”

“Yes.”Ismiled.

“Notjustabusinessmeeting?”Macreturnedmy

smile.

“No.Ihadn’tplannedontalkingaboutbusinessatall,

infact.”

Actually,Isortofwantedto.Itmighttakemymind

offofthefactthatIhadwatcherherbrotherslowlydie
inmyarmsaswewaitedforahelicoptertodescend.I
feltlikeIneededtotellher,toletherknowthatIhad
beentherewithherbrotherattheendandwitnessedhis
bravery.Butapparently,anythingconcerningherbrother
madeheruncomfortableandstand-offish.

Thiswasgoingtobeaslipperyslope.Ifiguredthat

conversationwouldeventuallycomebackaroundtomy
timewiththeArmyandifwebroachedthetopicofher
brother,I’dletitallcomeout.

Forthenextseveralminutes—betweenreceivingour

drinksandmakingithalfwaythroughthemeal—our
datewentsmoothly.Therewasmuchsmalltalkand
someslightly-more-than-innocentflirting.Duringthis
time,Ifoundthatwhenshespoke,Ifoundithardtolook
awayfromher.Shewasverypassionateandexaggerated
whenshespoke,particularlywhenshetalkedabouther
fatherandherlifeitSitka.Shetoldmethatshehadlived
herentirelifehere…whichhadbeenhardtodo
followingthedivorce.

“Peoplestarttoshowyoupity,evenfouryearsafter

it’sallover,”shesaid.“Youstarttofeellikeakidthat
everyonefeelssorryforbecauseyourfolksdidn’tlove
youenough.”

AsmyplategrewemptierandIorderedmysecond

beer,theconversationinevitablyturnedtomyhistory.I
remainedtruetoeverythinguntilmyforayinto
Hollywood.IalsostayedrelativelyvaguewhenItalked
aboutmytimeintheArmy.

ItoldherabouthowIhadgrownupastheyounger

brothertoagirlthatexcelledineverythingshehadever
done.She’dthengottenpregnantattheageofsixteen
andranaway.ThelastIhadheardfromher—whichhad
beenaboutsevenyearsago—shehadthreekidsandwas
marriedtotruckdriversomewhereinArkansas.WhatI
didn’ttellMacwasthatitwasmysister ’squickdescent
intofailurethathadplayedahugepartinmydecisionto
answerHollywood’scall.Ididn’twanttofallfrom
graceasshehad.Ithadalsobeenthedrivingforce
behindmydecisiontoenlistinthemilitary.

Eventheslightestmentionofthemilitaryseemedto

makeheruneasy.Seeingthis,IknewthatIhadtocome
forwardwithmylinktoherbrother.Iwaskeepingtoo
manysecretsfromherasitwasanditreallywasn’tfair.
Shedidn’tknowwhoIreallywasandthatwasbad

enough.Butsurelyshe’dwanttoknowaboutherbrother
fromthelastpersonontheplanetthathadeverseenhim
alive.

“I’msorry,”Isaid,slidingmyplateawayand

bringingthebeercloser.“ButIneedtotellyou
something.”

“What?Everythingokay?”

Iplayedthescenariooutinmyhead,tryingtothink

ofhowtobestbreakittoher.Butontheheelsofthatwas
theknowledgethatshecouldbecomefuriousthatIhad
withheldtheinformationfromme.Also,ifshehadeven
theslightestbitofpopcultureknowledge,thestoryof
howIhadnearlyrescuedherbrothercouldprovideher
withenoughdetailstofigureoutwhoIreallywas.

Screwit,Ithought.Heregoesnothing.

Andwiththatmentality,Ihadanotherthought.

“First,”Isaid,“there’ssomethingIwanttodo.”

“What?”

Iraisedupoutoftheseat,leanedacrossthetable,

andkissedher.Shewashesitantatfirstbutthensankinto

it.Itwasaninnocentkiss,ourlipsplacedfirmly
together.Itlastednomorethanthreesecondsand
althoughIwantedmuchmore,Imademyselfpullaway
fromher.

“Whatwasthatfor?”sheasked,tryingtohidethe

factthatshewasdelightedandblushedslightly.

“AfterItellyouwhatIneedtotellyou,Imightnot

getthechanceagain.”

Shefrownedandhereeyebrowsknittedtogether.

“Whatisit,Jack?”

Itookasipofmybeerandthenheavedoutasigh.“I

wasthelastpersonyourbrotherspoketo…hediedin
myarms.”

19—Mac

Iwaswellawareoftheeyesofjustaboutevery

personintherestaurantfallingonmeasIstoodupso
fastthatIknockedmychairover.Thethunknoiseit
madewhenithitthefloorseemedtoechothroughthe
place.IlookedawayfromJackasquickasIcould.I
wasn’tsurewhatemotionwasrunningthroughmein
thatmoment.Wasithate?Hurt?Or,evenmorebizarre,
somesortofreliefthatIdidn’tquiteunderstand?

Iwasn’tsurewhatitwas.AllIknewwasthatI

couldn’tstandtobearoundhiminthatmoment.

He’dknownmybrother.He’dbeenwithmybrother

whenhehaddied.Ifhisstorywastobebelieved,he’d
nearlysavedmybrother ’slife.

Howcanthisbe?

ItwastheonequestionthatfilledmyheadasItook

offrunningawayfromthetable.Ialmostcollidedwitha
waitressasImademywaytothedoor.Ihitthedoor
hardandwhenIpushedthroughandfoundmyselfoutin
thenight,Inearlyscreamedoutinfrustration.

Ilookedbothways,notsurewheretogo.Ididn’t

thinkJackknewwhereIlived,butIdidn’twanttotake
thatchance.Icouldn’tlethimfindme…couldn’tlethim
speaktome.

“Mac!”

Itwashisvoice,behindme.Iwheeledaroundand

sawhimcomingoutofthedoortotheWharf.Hewas
lessthantenfeetbehindme.

“Don’t…,”Isaid.Buthonestly,partofmewantedto

gotohim.

Istillfelthissmallkissonmymouth.Iwantedhis

armsaroundmeandIwantedtoheareverythinghe
knewaboutmybrother.Buttherewasanabstractsortof
treasontowhathehadtoldme.Heclaimedhehadonly
justrealizedtheconnectionthedaybefore,butIfoundit
veryhardtobelieve.

Plus,therewassomethingelse…somethingtothe

wholesituationthatitseemedImightbemissing.I
thoughttherewassomeotherlevelofdishonestyat
workhereandIdidn’thavetheemotionalcapacityto
figureitout.

Westoodthere,staringeachotherdown.Hedidn’t

reachoutformeandhedidn’tcallformeagain.Itwas
probablythemostpolitethinghecouldhavedoneinthat
moment.

Iturnedmybackandwalkedawayfromhim.I

waitedforhimtocalloutafterme,butheneverdid.
ThishurtmorethanIthoughtitwouldbut,atthesame
time,Iappreciateditaswell.

Iwalkedbackupthehilltowardsmyhouse,thinking

ofDavid.Ithoughtofhimallofthetime,butitfeltlike
hewaswalkingdirectlybesideme.Iwascrying,the
tearstrailingdownmycheeks.Eventhetrailsofmy
tearsseemedtobeconfusedastowhyIwassoupset.
NothingaboutmyreactiontoJack’snewsmadesense.
Myheartseemedelated,butmymindwasfilledwith
distrust.Mynerveswerefrantic,tryingtomakesenseof
whatIwasfeeling.

Igottotheendofthestreetandlookedbacktowards

theWharf.Jackwasn’tstandingthereanymore.There
wereafewpeoplemillingaroundtheentrance,butnone
ofthemwereJack.

Iturnedbackaroundandheadedhome.Ithoughtthat

maybeI’dcallGrandfatherandsharethiswithhim.Was
Iover-reacting,orwasthissortofresponsetosuch
shockingnewstobeexpected?ForallIknew,thiswas

someweirdsortofgriefthatIwasn’tfamiliarwith.

Ormaybeitwasclosure.MaybeknowingthatJack

knewthingsaboutDavidthatwouldbringmeclosure
abouthisdeathwastoomuchformetotake.Closure,
whenitcametodeath,wasn’talwaysagoodthing.It
wouldwarpmymemoriesofmybrotherandhowIfelt
aboutnothavinghimanymore—oratleastthat’showI
felt.

Icontinuedontowardshome,missingDavidmore

thanever.But,ontheheelsofthat,Iwasgrowing
alarmedathowbadlyIwishedJackhadfollowedmejust
abitmoretoshowthathedidindeedcare.

20—Devlin

Ihadknownthattherewereafewdifferentwaysthat

Maccouldhavetakenthenews.Butthewayshehandled
itsurprisedme.Shesaidnothing…shehadjuststoodup
fromthetable,gavemeapeculiarlook,andthenbacked
awayfromthetable.IknewthatIhadgottenuptofollow
herout,butIbarelyrememberit.Themomentsbetween
herstandingupfromthetableandmyfollowingherout
ofTheWharfwereablur.TryingtorememberitasI
watchedherwalkingquicklyawayfromtherestaurant,it
feltlikeIhadbeensleepwalking.

IfIhadwantedto,Icouldhaveeasilycaughtupto

her.Butitwasclearthatshewantedtobeleftalone.
GiventhebombshellthatIhadjustdroppedonher,I
figureditwastheleastIcoulddo.SoIwatchedher
scamperupthestreetinthewhiteglowofthestreet
lamps.Whenshewasoutofsight,Iturnedbackaround
andheadedbackintoTheWharf.

Isettledupthebillwehadaccumulatedtothatpoint

andthensatatthebar.Iorderedabeeranddrankit
slowly.Iwaslookingtothebottlesbehindthebar,
wonderingwhatImightbedoingrightthisverymoment
ifIwereinHollywood.Ontheheelsofthat,Icouldn’t

helpbutwonderifthiswouldbethetypicalwayI
respondedwhenthingsdidn’tgothewayIwanted.
WouldIyearnformyeasyHollywoodlifeeverytime
lifegothard?ItmademefeelspoiledandIhatedmyself
forit.IhadtriedtonotfallvictimtotheHollywood
stereotypes,butthereitwas,plainandsimple.

Italsomademeunderstandthattherewasnowaythat

Icouldsuccessfullypullofthisstupidcharadeforever.
Atsomepoint,Iwasgoingtohavetocomeclean…with
Mac,thepublic,everyone.Thegoateeandtheshaggy
hairwouldworkforonlysolong.Itwouldeventually
comeoutthatIwasreallyDevlinStone.

IwonderedhowMacwouldfeelaboutthat,ifshe

didn'tknowitalready.Anotherlie,Ithought.That’s
somethingelseI’mkeepingfromher.Wow,I’mreallynot
givingherarealchance,amI?

Ifinishedoffmybeer,ponderedanotherone,but

thengotupfromthestoolandthrewafivedollarbill
downonthebar.IexitedTheWharfagainandheaded
towardsmyhouse.Thenightwasbeautifulandslightly
frigid.Afewpeoplemilledabout;Ispottedacouplea
blockover,walkinghandinhand.Ienviedthem,butdid
myabsolutebesttoconvincemyselfthatIdidn’t.

Iwalkedupthehill,thinkingaboutDavidBlackwell.

HadIdonehimadisservicebyeventhinkingaboutnot
tellingMac.Isawhisfaceclearlyinmymindandonce
againsawtheresemblances.Itmademesmilefora
reasonthatwasuncleartomeasmyhousecameinto
view.Iwouldn’tgosofarastosaythatImissedmytime
inthearmy,butIsureashellmissedthecamaraderie
andfriendshipsIhadmadewiththeamazingsoldiers—
DavidBlackwellincluded.

IwassodistractedwithmymemoriesofDavidthatI

didn’tseethecarparkedinfrontofmycabinuntilIwas
atthefootofmysmalldriveway.Ilookedfromthecar
andthentomyhouseanditwasthenthatIalsosawthe
figuresittingonthefrontporchsteps.

Iwalkedcautiously,approachingthecarandtrying

tomakeouttheappearanceofthemaninthedarkness.

“Who’sthere?”Iasked.

ButthenIsteppedaroundthecarandsawhimbefore

hewasabletoanswerme.ItwasAdamParker—my
agent.Ihadn’teventhoughtofhiminweeks.Seeinghim
onmyfrontporchinSitkawasjustlikewalkinginto
yourhomeandfindingaghostwaitingforyou.

“I’dsayit’snicetoseeyou,”Adamsaid,not

botheringtogettohisfeet.“Butthatwouldbealie.The

truthofthematteristhatI’mprettypissedoff.”

InoddedasIapproachedhim.Hestoodupandgave

meaclumsyhug.“Itisgoodtoknowthatyou’renot
dead,though,”hesaid.

“Thanks.”

“Youwanttotellmewhatthehellyou’redoing

hidingouthereinthemiddleofnowhere?”

“Ihadtogetaway.”

“Fromwhat?”heasked.“Themoney?Thefame?

Theridiculouslybeautifulwomanthatdesperately
wantedyoutoherselfatalltimes?”

“Yes,”Isaid.“Allofthatandmore.”

“Canyoupleaseexplain?”Adamasked.“Canyou

pleasetellmewhyI’mhavingmoviestudioscursingme
outonadailybasisbecauseIdon’tknowwhereyou
are?”

Isighedandlookeduptotheclearnightsky.The

starstwinkledandtheskyseemedendless;itwasn’ta
sightavailableanywherenearHollywood.

“Comeoninside,”Isaid.“Iguessthejigisup.I

mightaswellcomeclean.”

Hesaidnothingashefollowedmeinside.Iunlocked

thedoorandcutthelightson.Adamlookedaround,
surprised.Hewasgrinningslightlybuttherewasnoreal
humorinit.IlethimtakeitallinasIwenttothe
refrigeratorandretrievedtwobeers.Iuncappedthem
bothandhandedhimone.

“Thanks,”hesaid,sittingonthecouch.

Itookthesmallarmchairontheothersideofthe

roomandshruggedathim.“IwishIhadsomegenius
answertogiveyou,”Isaid.“Butthefactofthematteris
simplythatInolongerfeltlikemyself.Ifeltfake.”

“You’reanactor,”Adamsaid.“Yougetpaidtobe

fakeallthetime.”

“No,notlikethat.”

Ididmybesttoexplainmysenseofdetachment.I

triedexplainingtohimthatIdidn’tfeellikeIcouldride
thefameIhadacquiredformytimeinthearmy.Ifelt
likeIwasdisrespectingthementhathaddied—
particularlyonthedayofthefailedschoolevacuation.

Aftertenminutesoftryingtoexplainthings,I

stoppedandsippedformmybeer.Adamsatbackonthe
sofa,rubbingathishead.

“Sowhatitsoundslikeyou’retellingme,”hesaid,

“isthatyouweregettingnorealsenseofpurposeoutof
acting.Youfeltcheap.”

“Notcheap…justsortofempty.”

“WhatcanIdo,asyouragent,tofixthat?”

“Idon’tknow.”

“Sojustlikethat,you’redone?”

“No.Idon’tthinkso.Ijust…,”

“Becausehere’sthedeal,”Adamsaid.“Iwon’tlieto

you.Youknowhowitworks.Yoursuccessmeansmy
success.Andthislittledisappearingactyou’vepulledoff
hasyouinhighdemand.Everyoneistalkingaboutyou.I
gotacalltwoweeksagothatIcan’tshake.It’sanoffer
foryouforthreemovies—acomicbooksuperhero
trilogy.Youknowhowhugethosesortofmoviesare
now.Theywantyouintheleadandarebasicallyletting
youtellthemwhatyouwanttobepaid.That’spractically
unheardof,Devlin.”

“It’sJack,”Isaid,smiling.

“What?”

“I’mJacknow.”

“Youchangedyourname?”

“Yeah.Well,notlegally.Notyet.”

“MyGod.Whathappened?”

Iopenedmymouthtoanswer,butAdamstarted

laughing.“Thatgoatee,”hesaid.“It’scrazyhowmuchit
changesyourappearance.”

“It’sworkedsofar,”Isaid.Then,afteramoment’s

thought,Iadded:“Wait.Howdidyoufindme?”

“Ihiredaprivateinvestigator.Igotacallfromhim

yesterdayandhepointedoutsomeactivityinoneof
yourcheckingaccounts.Youmovedaroundabout
fifteenthousanddollarsanditallendedupinatrailhere
inSitka.OnceIgottoSitka,itwasprettyeasytofind
you.It’snotaverybigplace,youknow.”

“Iknow.Ilikeit.”

“Whatdidyouneedthemoneyfor?”

“Ibroughtaplane.”

“Apl—wait,youknowwhat?Idon’tevenwantto

know.”

Wesatinsilenceforawhilelonger.Afterawhile,

Adamstoodupandlookedaroundthehouse.“You
managedtohideforalmostsevenweeks,”hesaid.
“That’sprettyimpressive.ButIcan’tgobacktoLA
withoutsomesortofanswerfromyou.Areyoudone?
Doyouwanttotakethiscrazyofferaboutthecomic
movies?”

“Idon’tknow.”

“Aubrey’sworriedaboutyou,”Adamsaid.“Iwon’t

lie…she’smovedon.Sortof.Withsomeguythatshe
onlysortoflikes,butheworshipsher.”

“Good.YoucantellherI’msafe.”

“CanIconvinceyoutocomebackwithme?Right

now.Tonight.”

Ialmosttoldhimtowaitformetopackupandmake

somecalls.ButthenMac’sfaceappearedinmyhead.In
thatmoment,shewasmoreimportantthatahuge
paycheckorcomicbookmovies.IfeltlikeIowedher
something.ButIdidn’twanttotryexplainingthatto
Adam.

“Givemeaweek,”Isaid.“I’llcallyou.Canyousit

onmydiscoveryforthatlong?”

Herolledhiseyesatmeandthenfinishedhisbeer.

“Oneweek.IfIdon’thearfromyou,I’llshopthestory
around.YouknowhowmuchtheDailySnarkwouldpay
toknowwhereyouare?”

“Icanimagine.”

“Oneweek,”hesaid,pointinggrufflyatme.

Inodded.

“Andplease,”Adamsaidasheheadedforthefront

door.“ThenexttimeIseeyou,let’smakesurethat
scruffisnotathing.Ithastogo.”

Igrinnedathimandweshookhandsatthedoor.He

gavemeaconfusednodandthenheadedoutintothe
night,forhiscar.

Iclosedthedoorbehindhimandcheckedthetime.It

wasjustafterteno’clock.Icouldn’thelpbutwonder
whatMacwasupto.Iranmyhandthroughmybeard
andthensmilednervously.

“Yeah,”Isaidtotheemptyhouse.“Let’smakesure

thescruffisn’tathinganymore.”

Withthatthoughtinmind,Idashedtothebathroom

toretrievemyrazorbeforeIhadtimetochangemy
mind.

21—Mac

Iknewthatitobviouslywasn’tagoodthingtowant

togetobliteratedthemomentIgothome.Istaredatthe
winerackhardthemomentIcameinthedoor,
wonderingwhichonewouldprovidethestrongestkick.I
wantedtogettrashed,wantedtoforgetaboutthe
impossiblethingsthathadcomeoutofJack’smouthat
dinner.

Howwasitevenpossible?MyGod,wasthisstupid

rottenworldreallythatsmall?

Istormedtothewinerackandselectedthefirstbottle

myhandlandedon.WhenItookthecorkoutwithmy
opener,myhandswereshakingsobadlythatInearly
droppedthebottle.Ipouredaglass(allthewaytothe
top)andtookalong,luxurioussip.

ButbythetimeIloweredtheglassfrommylipsthe

tearshadstarted.

Foronesickeningmoment,IthoughtIcouldsee

Davidstandinginthekitchenwithme.Helookedsad,as
ifhewantedtocomfortme.Ihadseenhimlikethis
severaltimessincehe’ddiedandithadnevergottenany

easier.Iknewitwasnotaghostoranythingascheesyas
that;itwasjustmyownwayoftryingtoconjurehimup
intimesofdistress.Afterdadhaddied,DavidwasallI
hadleft.

ThenDavidhaddied…andthathadreallybeenthe

endofit.Iknewthedeathsofthosetwoveryimportant
meninmylifehadbeentheprimaryreasonIhadnever
beenabletokeeparelationship—notevenamarriage.
I’msurethereweredeep-rootedreasonsbehinditthatI
wasn’tevenabouttotrytouncover…especiallynot
whiledrinking.

Oddlyenough,withthetasteofthewineinmy

mouth,IdecidedthatIactuallydidn’twanttodrink.I
wantedtomourn.Iwantedtotrytomakesenseofthe
rageandsenseofbetrayalIfeltatJack.Iwasmadashell
athimbutwasn’tsureastowhy.Notreally…

Iwenttothecomputerandopenedupmyphotos

folder.IflippedthroughtheslideshowIhadcompiled
ofdadandDavid.Whenthefirstpicturecamearound
whereDavidwasinhiscombatfatigues,Ialmostlostit.
Still,itwasgoodtoseehisface—toseehissmile,so
muchlikemyfather ’s.

Isatinfrontofthecomputerforalmostanhour,

watchingtheslideshowthreetimes.Afterthethird

round,Iclosedtheprogramandeyedthephone,
thinkingaboutcallingGrandfather.Thisnewsabout
Jack’sconnectiontoDavidwasbeyondhuge,soI’dend
uptellinghimanyway.ButIdecidedtoletitpass,tolet
themotionsortofsizzleawaybeforeIspoketoanyone
elseaboutit.

Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Alargepartofmewanted

tostormovertoJack’srightthereandthentodemand
thathetellmemoreaboutDavid’sdeathandwhyhe’d
keptitfromme—evenifithadonlybeenadayorso.

Butthentherewasanotherpartofmethatspokeup,

smallerthantheangryside,butstillconfident.Itsaid:
Seriously,girl.Whatthehellareyousomadathimfor?

Itwasagoodquestion,butnotonethatmyanger

wouldletmeproperlydissect.

Topassthetime,Istraightenedupthelivingroom,

didaloadoflaundry,andputonsomemusic.Anhour
orsolater,Iploppedbackdowninfrontofthecomputer
tocheckmye-mail.AsItypedinmylog-ininformation,
Isawglimpsesoftheday’snewsheadlines:more
turmoilintheMiddleEast,somesportsguygotdrunk,
MileyCyrusdidsomethingstupid,DevlinStonewasstill
missing,therewasahugefinancialmessinDC,there
wasa—

Istoppedskimming,myeyescatchingononeofthe

smallthumbnailpicturesintheheadlinefeed.The
headlinebesideitannoyedmetonoend:SevenWeeks
Later,StillNoCluesonDevlinStone’sWhereabouts.

“Whogivesadamn?”Isaidoutloud.

Ihatedthatguy.AsfarasIwasconcerned,hehad

soldhissoultoHollywoodafterservingheroically
overseasincombat.He’ddonesomethingsotrulygreat
andthencasheditoutforHollywood.Whatanasshole.
Whata—

ButmyeyesreturnedtothepictureagainandI

actuallytiltedmyheadabit.DevlinStonewasslightly
offcenterinthepicture,hisarmaroundsomeactress
namedAudreyorAubreyorsomething.Hewassmiling
thinly.Hishairwascombednicelyandhelookedquite
handsome.Buttherewassomethingabouthisfacethat
hitmethewrongwayandforamomentIsatinthechair
likeadeerthatwasstaringatanoncomingcar.

DevlinStonelookedahellofalotlikeJack.Infact,

whenIplacedJack’sbeardonthatprettyboyfaceof
DevlinStone’stheycouldhavebeenbrothers.Hell,
maybeeventwins.

Weird,Ithought.

Butitwasmorethanweird.Therewassomething

there…somethingIwasn’tgettingquiteyet.Certain
thoughtsstartedtoswirltogetherinmyhead,pushedby
theforcefulwindsofragethathadbeenthereeversince
stormingawayfromJack.

JackknewDavid…hesaidhehadbeentherewhen

Daviddied.

Daviddiedincombat,inaheroicrescueattempt

wherejustabouteverymemberoftheteamdied.

DevlinStone’sstorywasmuchthesame;hehad

apparentlybeenthesolesurvivorofaspecialforces
teamthathadbeensentintoevacuateaschool.

Mymouthcameunhinged;myjawquiteliterally

dropped.

“No,”Isaid.

DevlinStonesavedmybrother,Ithought.AndJack…

isheDevlinStone?

Itseemedlikeastupidthought,butthenIdidthe

mathinmyhead.IhadmetJackalittlemorethansix

weeksago…afewdaysbeforeDevlinStonehad
apparentlydisappeared.Inanyothercaseitcouldhave
easilybeenacoincidence.

Buttheylookedexactlyalike.

Asitturnsout,Ineededthatwineafterall.I

reclaimedtheglassandtookitbacktothecomputer.I
thendidaGoogleimagesearchonDevlinStone.Many
ofthepictureswerefromhisrolesinmovies,someof
whichhadrequiredhimtoalmostneverwearashirton
screen.

ThemorepicturesIsaw,themorecertainIbecame.

Iraisedthewineglasstomylipsbutfounditempty.I

wenttothekitchentorefillit,myhandsshakingworse
thanevernow.Imanagedtopoisethebottleoverthe
glass,thetwoclinkingmusicallytogether.

AsIsetthebottlebackonthecounter,someone

knockedonmyfrontdoor.

Iletoutalittleyelpofsurpriseandknockedtheglass

ofwineover.

“Damnit,”Isaid,lookingbackandforthbetweenthe

hallwaythatledtothefrontofmyhousetothemessI

hadjustmade.

DecidingthatIshouldanswerthedoorbefore

cleaningupthemess,Iwonderedoutloud,“Whocould
thisbe?”

ButofcourseIknewwhoitwas.Itwasnearlyten

thirtyonaFridaynight.Inevergotcompany,especially
notlateatnight.

ItwasJack.OrDevlin.Orwhateverhisnamewas.

Istoppedinthehallway,lookingtothedoor.Why

shouldIlethimin?Ifmyinsanelittleconspiracytheory
wasright,hehadbeenlyingtomeeversincewemet.
Thiswentwaybeyondtheshockingrevelationaboutmy
brother.Thiswentdeeperandtoawholedifferentplace
thatIdidn’tthinkIwascapableofdealingwithright
now.

“Mac,it’sJack,”hesaidthroughthedoor.

HisvoicewasreassuringandIhatedmyselfabitfor

lovingthesoundofit.Slowly,Icontinuedtowardsthe
door.Ireachedoutfortheknobbutstoppedmyself.

“Whatdoyouwant?”Iaskedbeforeopeningthe

door.

“Ijustneedtotalktoyou.”HesoundedcalmbutI

thoughttherewasaslighttickofnervousness
underneath.

“There’snothingtotalkabout,”Isaid.

“Ofcoursethereis.I’msorryIdroppedthenews

aboutyourbrotheronyoulikethat.Ijust…Idon’t
know.Ididn’tknowhowtoapproachit.”

Thatwasplausibleenough.Itwasaweirdbitof

almostpredestinedinformationtohandle.Lookingback
onit,Isupposehehaddoneitratherwellandwithas
muchtactaspossible,giventhesituation.

“That’snotall,isit?”Iasked.Iwasnowpressedto

thedoor,knowingfullwellthatIwasgoingtoopenit
butwantingtogivemyselfthatonelastchancetoturn
away.“You’rekeepingsomethingelsefromme,too.
Aren’tyou?”

“Notanymore.Mac…pleasejustopenthedoor.”

Iturnedtheknobandopenedthedoorslowly.Ididn’t

evenbothercuttingtheporchlighton.Butthelackof
lightdidn’tstopmefromseeingatransformedman
standingonmydoorstep.Thefacealonewasenoughto

indicatethatitwasJack.Butwithoutthebeardandthose
baby-likecheeksexposed,histrueidentitywas
unmistakable.

ItwasDevlinStone.Andhewasstandinginmy

doorway.

“CanIcomein?”heasked.

Icouldonlynod.IhadspentyearshatingDevlin

Stoneforeverythinghehaddone.Forsellingoutto
Hollywood,fordownplayingthedutieshe’dfulfilledin
themilitary.IhadnodoubtthatifDavidhadnotdiedin
service(inthisman’sarmsnonethelessandIwasstill
havingtroublewrappingmyheadaroundthat),Devlin
Stonewouldnothavebotheredme.Buthedid;he’s
alwaysgottenundermyskin.

Butthiswasn’tDevlinStonestandingbeforeme,

slowlywalkingintomyhouse.ThiswasJack…amanI
hadcometodevelopfeelingsfor.Amanthathad,ifI’m
beinghonest,re-energizedapartofmethatIthought
haddiedwhenmyhusbandhadwalkedoutonme.

“DevlinStone,”Isaid.“Seriously?”

Heblinkedafewtimesandthennodded,rubbingat

hissmoothface.Thehaironhisheadwasstill

disheveledandabitlongbuttherewasnomistaking
him.

“Wereyouevergoingtotellme?”Iasked.

“IguessIeventuallywouldhave,”hesaid.“Ifthings

wouldhavekeptprogressingbetweenus,Iwouldhave
hadtocomecleanatsomepoint.”

“Whatmakesyouthinkthingswouldhavekept

progressing?”Iasked.

Hethoughtabouthisanswerforamomentandthen

didsomethingIhadn’tbeenexpecting.Hemoved
quickly,closingthedistancebetweenus,andkissedme.
Ittookmeafulltwosecondstorealizewhathewas
doing.Ipulledawaybuthishandsweresuddenlyonmy
waist,holdingmetohim.Itriedoncemoretopullaway
butthengavein.IwouldbeatotalliarifIclaimedtonot
havethoughtaboutthisforseveraldaysnow.

ThekisswasfierceandhislipsweresofterthanI

imaginedtheywouldbe.Myhandsfoundhishair,
cuppingthebackofhishead.Iletmyselfenjoyit,my
emotionsbedamned.Mykneesbuckledandthenalso
feltasenseoflooseninginhisbodyashealsogotlost
init.

Atsomepoint,ourtonguesbrushedoneanotherand

thatwastoomuch.Ipulledaway,breakingoutofthe
holdhehadonmywaist.WhenIwasonceagainpried
apartfromhim,mylipsseemedtotingleandevery
muscleinmybodywantedtodoitalloveragain.

“Why?”Iasked,slightlybreathless.

“Whywhat?”

“Whythecharade?Whythedisguise?WhySitka?”

Heshrugged.“IgottiredofHollywood.Ifeltcheap.

Imissedmyfriendsfromthemilitary—friendslike
David.Makingmovies…itwasfunand,Iwon’tlie,sort
ofadreamcometrue.Butthepartiesandtheattention
startedtogetbland.Iwantedmoreformylife.Iwanted
somethingsubstantial…somethingIcouldbeproudof.I
realizedthatIhadalreadygottenthatinthemilitary.The
moviesweregreatandIamproudofafewofthem…
butnotasproudasthetimeIspentinauniform.”

“SoyoujustquitHollywood?”

“Idon’tknowyet.I’mdefinitelyonhiatus.”

“Andnooneknowswhereyouare?”

“No.Well…myagentdoes.Hewaswaitingforme

atmyhouseafterIfinallylefttherestaurant.”

Everythingsuddenlycaughtupwithme.Therewasa

gorgeousmanstandinginmyhallway,havingjustgiven
meoneofthemostpassionatekissesofmylife.
Hundredsofthousandsofwomenwouldgladlythrow
themselvesathim.Butherehewas,lookingatmewitha
starethatseemedtomakemyclotheswanttosimple
slideoffofmybody.

“Wecan’tdothis,”Isaid.“Ican’tdothis.I’veseen

thekindofwomenyoudate.ThatAubreygirl…she’s
gorgeous,she—,”

Heinterruptedmewithanotherkiss,butthisonewas

passionateanddeep,slowlywrappinghisarmsaround
mywaistandpullingmetohishardandincreasingly
hardeningbody.Mybodyreactedtohisalmost
immediately.DearGod,Ineededthis.Ionlyallowedit
forafewsecondsthistimebeforeIpushedhimaway.

“What'swrong?”ThemanIknewasJackstared

downatme,hungrybrowneyesgrowingconcerned.
Damn,heisinsanelygood-looking...

“Ican’tcompetewithallofthat.I’dfeelstupid.”I

lookeddowntotheroughcollarofhisfadedgrayt-

shirt,unabletomeethiseyes.

“Mac,”hesaidtakingmychininhisfingertips.“I’d

liketotrytomakethiswork.IknowI’vebeendeceptive.
AndIknowthecurveballaboutyourbrotherisabit
muchtohandle.ButyouarewhatIwant.I’veknownthat
forafewdaysnow.I’dchooseyouovergoingbackto
makemovies.I’dchooseyouovertheactressesandthe
fatpaychecks.”Washe...serious?

Istaredathimandshookmyheadslightly.“But

why?”Isaid,suddenlyrealizingthatIwasontheverge
oftears.

“Becauseyou’rereal.Becauseyou’rehonestand

stubborn.Becauseyou’resmartandfunnyandbeautiful.
AndIwant—,”

Itwasalltoomuch.Igrabbedhimbythecollarand

pulledhisfacetomine.Whenourmouthsmet,fire
burnedthroughme.Itstartedsoftlybutthengrewinto
somethingthatfeltalive—somethingwithheatand
energy.Thistimewhenourtonguesmet,itspurredus
on.IencircledJack'sneckwithmyarmsanddrewhim
closer.

Somewherealongtheline,Ifoundmyselfpressed

againstthewall,stilltakinghiskiss.Hishandswereon

myfacewhenhesuddenlystoppedandpulledaway.

“Areyouokay?”heasked.

“Mmmhmm,”wasallIcouldmanage.

“Wecanstopthis,”hesaidsoftly.“Ifyou’renot

ready,Imean.”

IconsidereditasIfeltmyheartrampaginginmy

chestandanelectricityinpartsofmybodythathadbeen
dormantforfartoolong.

“Mac?”heasked.

Igavehimathinsmileandansweredbygently

takingthebottomofhisshirtandliftingitup.Hegave
meaknowingglancebutthenhelpedme.Westarted
kissingagainandbeforehisshirtevenhadtimetohitthe
ground,minewasjoiningit.

Hisfingerssmoothedoverthesmallofmybackand

hebrokethekiss,pullingmyjeansdownmythighs.
"Youmightwanttotakethoseprettypantiesoffunless
youwanttoseethemruined,”hesaidhoarsely.

Islidthemovermyhipsanddownmylegs,thenreached
forhisjeansandshovedthemalongwithhisboxer

briefstothefloor.HiserectionsprangupandIhatto
catchmybreath.Thesizeandlengthwasperfect.Ithad
beenwaytoolong.

Jacksmiledatmyreaction.Heliftedasinglefingerand
ranitalongmyjaw,downmyneck,wanderingalong
mycollarboneanddownmychest,circlinganipple
beforecontinuingitsjourneysouth,tracingacircle
aroundmybellybutton,anddriftedfurtherdowntoslip
overmysensitivebundleofnerves.Isqueezedmyeyes
shut,embarrassedathowwetIwasfromsolittle
foreplay.Butmybodydidn'tcare.Itwantedmore.I
neededmore.

"Mmmm,"hemurmuredsoftlynexttomyear.He
strokedmeslowly,myhipsfollowingthemovement,
andheplacedseverallingeringkissesonmyjaw.

“Yourbedroom?”Hiswhispertickledthesmallhairson
myneckandIshivered.

IlookedintoJack...ImeanDevlin'seyes.Thepools

ofchocolatebrownwascloudedwithhungeranddesire.

Itookhishandandwefoundmybed.Iflippedthe
coversbackandboostedmyselfup,shootingateasing
glanceovermyshoulderasIcrawledtothecenterofthe
bed.

Hehauledmeupright,palmingabreast,androlledthe
nipplebetweenhisfingersuntilithardened.Hismouth
wasbusylickingandsuckingateverypartofmehe
couldreach,theshellofmyear,thecurveofmyneck,
theslopinglineofmyshoulder.Heswitchedhands,and
switchedsides,tuggingatmynipplealmosttothepoint
ofpain,littlepricksofitmakingmerollmyhips,
seekingrelief.

Buthedidn'tventureanyfurthersouth.

Ireachedbehindmeandgrippedhim,ranmynails
alongtheundersideofhishardness,smilingwhenhe
groaned.Ifmyarousalwasgoingtogounfulfilled,so
wouldhis.However,withmyhandsbehindmyback,I
couldn'ttouchasmuchofhimasIwanted.Irubbedmy
thumboverhislength,payingmoreattentiontothehead
andhissensitiveareasontheunderside.

Devlingrewstill,onlymovingtoslidehishandalong
myribcage."God,Mac,"hegrowled.Hetookmy
shoulderandturnedmetofacehim.Ourmouthsmetat
hepulledmynakedbodytohis.Everythingaboutbeing
withhimfeltright.I'dfoughtitforsolong...foughthim
fortoolong.

Hepushedmebackgentlytothebed,coveringme

withhismuscularframe.Ispreadmylegsandwrapped
themaroundhiships.Theheadofhishardnessnudged
teasinglyatmyentrance.

“Devlin,”Iwhispered.Itwasasurrealmoment,

beingthereinbedwithhim...themanIthoughtI'dhate
forever.ThesoldierwhosoldhissoultoHollywood,or
soIassumed.I'dbeensowrong.

AsDevlinkissedmylipsandjaw,heslidinside,inch

bytorturousinch.IttookeverythingIhadnotto
encouragehimtogivemeoneswiftthrust.Whenhewas
seatedtothehilt,IwasgladI'dbeenpatient.Afterso
longwithoutsex,Ineededtoadjusttohissize.

Devlinliftedhisfacefromminetostaredownatme.
Hisrapaciousstaresowasintenseitcausedmetosigh.
“Isthatokay?”

Inodded.Itwasmorethanokay.Thiswasperfect.
"Idon'tthinkI'mgonnalasttoolong,butIpromise

I'llmakeituptoyou."Hisbroken,jaggedgroansenta
shiverdownmyspine.

ThenDevlinmoved.

Theflutteringofpleasurestartedalmostimmediately—
tinyripplesashepushedin,pulledout,androlledhis
hipsinaslowcircleattheendofeachthrust.Needrose
andspiraledlikeawildfire,threateningtoconsumeme.

TheairgrewthickandheavyaroundusasDevlin
continuedwithhisdeep,slowthrusts.Thefluttersgrew
intoaconstantpulse,andhegroaned,speedinguphis
pace.Icouldn'tbreathe.Myheartsettledintoawild,
unevenbeat—theedgeofmyclimaxrushingupasthe
pulsebecameathrob.

Withonelastintenseburst,Ifellapart.Isawstars—lost
inmyfirsttrue,tangiblereleaseinyears.Itwistedmy
headtothesideasIcamedown,pantingheavilyas
Devlinplungedinhardoncemoreandheldhimself
insideme,groaningashecame.

Dampwithsweat,heeasedhisbodydowntomineand
weremainedtogetherforseveralminutes,catchingour
breath...untilIdriftedofftoadeep,peacefulsleep.

22—Devlin

SunlightcreptinthroughtheblindsofMac’s

bedroom.Itcreatedaseriesofperfectlyslanted
rectanglesofsunlightonMac’snakedback.Iglanced
sleepilyatthemorningsunandthenranmyhandsalong
thecurveofherspine.Sheshiftedinbedslightlyand
madeanmmfsound.Iwonderedifshewasasound
sleeper.Ihadnoidea.Itwouldbeoneofthosesmall
thingsthatIwouldhavethepleasureofdiscoveringin
thecomingweeks…months…years.Igrinned.

Isatupslowlyandlookedtoher,stillsleeping.Ithen

lookedaroundtheroom,takinginthetangleofclothes
onthefloor.Lastnightwasablurinmyhead,butone
thatwasfilledwithmorejoythatIcaneverremember
havinginaverylongtime.

IwouldbecallingAdamtoday.ItwassomethingI

hadthoughtaboutlastnightasIhadfallenasleepwith
Mac’sarmdrapedovermychest.I’dtellhimthatifhe’d
givemetwomoreweeks,I’dtakealookatthatcontract
forthesuperheromovie.ButbeforeIdidthat,I’dneed
totalktoMac.

WhereverIheadedafterthis,Iwantedhertobea

partofit.Thatis,ifshewantedtotagalong.

Islowlygotupandgatheredupmyboxerbriefsand

pants.Ipulledthemonslowly,tryingtobequiet.

Apparently,Ifailed.

“Whatareyoudoing?”sheaskedsleepily,peeringat

mewithonesquintingeye.

“Goodmorning,Beautiful.I'mgettingdressed.”

Macgrowledsoftly.“Tooearly.Sleep.”

“Ican’tsleepverylate,”Isaid.“I’manearlyriser.”

Sherolledoverandlookedatmewithalazysmile.

“Ohno.I’mafraidthisjustisn’tgoingtowork.”

“Stilltired?”Iasked.

Shenodded.Shewasonlypartiallycoveredbythe

sheets;theslantsofsunlightfellperfectlytohighlight
theswellofherlusciousbreastandthecurveofher
waist.

“Ifyouwant,”Isaid,slowlyapproachingthebed

withanevilsmile,“Icanmaybetrytowakeyouup.”

Hergrinwidenedandsheplayfullypattedthesideof

thebedIhadbeensleepingon.

Iacceptedtheinvitationand,momentslaterwhenour

skinwastouchingandourhandsexploringeachother,it
feltalarminglynatural.

23—Devlin

Twelveweekslater
Icouldn’thelpbutlaughasIwatchedMacclimbinto

theplane.Really,ithadalwaysbeenherplaneeven
thoughIstillteaseherabouthowIhadbeatenhertothe
punch.Shewasnervous,buttryingnottoshowit—
especiallynottothegroupofthreeclientsthatwas
standingonthedock,waitingtoboard.

She’dgottenherpilot’slicenselastweek.Shehad

seventy-onehoursofflighttrainingunderherbelt,ten
ofwhichhadbeensolo.I’dbeenupwithhersincethen,
theonlynon-classflightshehadtaken.Shewasgoodat
it—anaturaleven.Shehadnothingtobenervousabout.
Butthat’sjustthewayshewas.

Iwalkeddownthedock,noddingtothegroupof

people—twomenandawoman—thatwouldsoonbe
flyingouttooneofthemoreremotepartsofthestateto
dosomecampingandfishing.Thewomangavemea
quizzicallook…alookIgotalotthesedays.Sheknew
whoIwasbut,Ithink,wastooafraidtosayanythingin
theeventthatshemightbewrong.

Ihadditchedthebeard,optinginsteadforthe

permanentdustingofafiveo’clockshadow,butonly
becauseMacpreferredit.Itwasn’tnearlyenoughto
keepmyidentityhidden.MostofthepeopleinSitka
wereusedtoseeingmearoundtownandIthinkthe
coolnessofhavingacelebritylivingintownhadalready
wornoff.

Iwalkeduptothecockpitandclimbedup.Macwas

checkingherinstrumentpanelsandtalkingtoherselfas
shewalkedthrougheverythingsheneededtodo.

“You’lldofine,”Isaid.

“Easyforyoutosay.”

“Itis.Becauseyou’reagoodpilot.”

Shesighed,stoppedherfranticchecklist,andlooked

tome.Shegrinnedandkissedmesoftlyonthemouth,
lingeringforamoment.

“Howaboutyou?”sheasked.“Youallset?”

“Yes.I’mheadingbacktothecabinafteryoutakeoff

andwillfinishpackingourbags.”

“Ishouldbebackinfivehours,”shesaid.“Willthat

giveusenoughtimetomakeittoLAintime?”

“Yes.Butevenifwe’relate,it’sjustanawardsshow.

Nobigdeal.”

Macsearchedmyeyesforasecond,tiltingherhead

totheside.“Andyou’resureyou’reokayaboutme
comingtothesetwithyoutomorrow?Idon’thaveto
come.”

Ilaughed.“Ofcourseyoudo,”Isaid.“Iwantyou

there.”

Shenoddedandlookedawayasahugemischievous

grinspreadacrossherbeautifulface.“Iamlooking
forwardtoseeingyouinsuperherospandex.”

Irolledmyeyeswithalaughandnoddedback

towardsthewaitingpassengers.“Getoutofhere.Do
yourjob.”

“Youhaveoneofthesebookedfornextweek,you

know.”

“Iknow.”Ithenkissedherandheldherhand.

“Seriously.You’lldofine.Besafe.”

“Iwill.”

“Iloveyou.”

“Iloveyou,too.”

Withthat,Ihoppeddownontothedockandhelped

thepassengerloadup.Thewomanlookedatmeagain
andhereyessparkled.SheknewwhoIwas.Iwavedat
her,asifitwerenobigdeal.Becausereally,itwasn’t.
I’mjustanormalguythatmanagedtogetextremely
lucky…inlife,career,andinlove.

Whentheywereallaboard,IgaveMacafinalkiss

andthenstoodonthedock,watchingherfloatoutinto
theopenwater.Whentheengineskickedon,Iimagined
herinsidethecockpitbehindthecontrols,smilinglikea
kidthathasjustleanedtorideabike.

Theplanemovedslowlyatfirst,andthenspedup

untilitliftedintotheair.Iraisedmyhandinawaveand
watcheduntilsheshrankoutofsight.

IwalkedbacktothePineWayandcheckedinonthe

part-timeworkerwehadhiredoncewegottheplane
businessupandrunning.WhenIwassureeverything
wasokaythere,IheadedtoMac’shouse—whichshewas
insistingthatwerefertoasourhousenow.

Ontheway,mycellphonerang.Isawfromthecaller

IDthatitwasAdam.

“Hey,Adam.”

“Hey.You’regoingtomakeittotheawardsshow,

right?”

“Yeah,”Isaid.“Imightbealittlelate.”

“Noworries.Aslongasyou’reabletomakesome

oftheafterparties,weshouldbegood.Andwe’re
probablylookingatatwelvetofourteenhourdayof
shootingtomorrow.Youokaywiththat?”

Isighedandranahandthroughmyhair.“Iam.Just

havesomeonemakesurethatMachasahotelroom
somewherenearthestudio.”

“Alreadydone.”

“Good.”

Hekeptgoingonandonaboutthenextfewweeks

andallofthethingsIwasexpectedtodo.ButIbarely
heardhim.Instead,Iwasthinkingaboutanightalittle
lessthanfivemonthsagowhereIhadstoodinamotel
room,lookingoutontoLA.Aubreyhadbeentherewith
me,confusedbymyunwillingnesstobewithher,andI

hadbarelynoticed.Ihadbeentoohollow,toodetached.

Ihadfame,Ihadmoney,butsomethinghadnotbeen

right.

Icouldbarelyrememberthatfeelingnow.Igazedup

intothesky,knowingthatIcouldnolongerseethe
plane,butknowingthatMacwasuptheresomewhere
and,Ihoped,thinkingofmeandthisnewlifewewere
puttingtogether.

WithMac,thatmissingpiecewasthere.And

althoughIcouldstillnotputanametothatthingthathad
beenmissing,Iwasgrowingmoreandmoresurebythe
daythatithadbeenmorethansimplylove.Itwasmore
aboutbeingwhole.

IthoughtofDavidthen,asIhaddonealotmorethan

usualinthelastfewweeks.Ithoughtofhowhehaddied
inmylapasthehelicopterhadtoucheddown.I’mnota
spiritualkindofguyatall,buttherehastobea
connectionthere.Iendeduplovinghissister,inastate
ofmindwhereIwoulddoanythingtoprotecther.

Hadhecaughtaglimpseofthatbeforehedied?

Hadheseenthatatsomepointinthefuture,Iwould

findhissisterand,inlovingher,protecther?Iliketo

thinkthatthiswassoandinseeingthat,hewasableto
leavethisworldhappyandignorantofthepainfromhis
injuries.

Hadhebeengrantedthatpeekintothefuture?

SometimeswhenIfallasleepnexttoMac,ourarms

andlegsinterlocked,Iliketothinkso.

****

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