Never in my wildest dreams did I expect a view like this where I live.

And we can have this every day.

“You haven’t said much.” I feel Jonah studying my profile, hear the worry in his tone. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I’m thinking … Trapper’s Crossing is sleepy, but it’s not dead. I watched as we drove along the main road—Main Street would be a misleading name for the paved, two-lane highway banked by a handful of shops and services—and I saw signs of life. A man huddled in winter gear, briskly walking his golden retriever among the trees that dapple the properties; three young kids laughing as they dart out of the colorful bus that has been artfully converted into a burger shack; dozens of cars angled around gritty, plow-made snowbanks in the small grocery store parking lot. A lumber mill, a hardware store. It reminds me of the Northern Ontario towns I’ve driven through on my way to cottages—quiet, functional communities who thrive on tourism, collections of people, some born and raised there and others having escaped from elsewhere. A place where you find yourself wondering what people do with themselves all day long, what their Friday nights look like.

It didn’t take long to see the bulk of what Trapper’s Crossing has to offer. Jonah navigated around the town, pointing out the community center and library, the one-floor health center for minor ailments only. There is nothing resembling an urban subdivision here. It’s all roads cutting through a seemingly endless forest, with houses interspersed.

But then he settled his palm onto my thigh, squeezing gently as we passed the small, boxy elementary school. A memory of him holding a chubby toddler at Sharon and Max’s farewell party flooded my mind, and my thoughts suddenly shifted from all the things Trapper’s Crossing isn’t to all the things it could become, if I embrace it.

If I give this dream of Jonah’s an honest chance.

A life for Jonah and me. A log cabin in the woods with a million-dollar view has a lot of charm, I must admit, especially when I’m sharing it with this man. Thoughts of George and Bobbie’s cabin come to mind—with the Christmas bows and strings of light. Christmas will be nice here.

I meet Jonah’s blue eyes, see the unease in them. The hope. I think he’s holding his breath. “We’ll need a sign to advertise. Over there.” I point at a crop of naked birch trees. “And it’s not going to be one of those ugly billboard-looking signs, like the ones I keep seeing all over the place.” Corrugated plastic with faded print lettering advertising business hours and peddling wares.

Jonah releases the air from his lungs in a heavy sigh. “You can put up whatever the hell you want. You’re better at that stuff than I am, anyway.”

“Wait, is there cell reception out here? Because I can’t survive without basic—”

“There’s a tower nearby. We get four bars here.”

It’s my turn to sigh with relief, though I’m far from finished. “And you are not going to take off all day, every day, and leave me here, all alone, to fend for myself.”

“I make my own schedule. And you can fly with me. It’ll be like old times.”

“And no overnight trips. I’m not spending my nights all alone.”

“Believe me, I don’t wanna be anywhere but lying in bed next to you every night.”

“And you need to take me driving more, so I can get my license as soon as possible.”

“Good, ’cause I’m tired of cartin’ your ass around.”

“And I’m in charge of decorating. This will not be one of those dingy log cabins with dead animals and guns all over the walls.”

He puts his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “You can paint the whole goddamn place white if you want, Calla.”

I frown. “Seriously?”

“I mean, it’d be a fucking horrible idea and Phil will probably come back here and shoot us both if he finds out, but I don’t give a shit.” He smirks. “Just don’t get pissy with me when I get it dirty.”

“Maybe just one white room,” I mock.

He collects my hand and brings it to his mouth to press a kiss against my knuckles. “Whatever makes you happy.”

I’ve only ever seen that look on his face once before—standing in front of the US entry gate at the airport, when I told him I’d move to Alaska for him.

“Making you happy makes me happy,” I answer truthfully.

“Well then … you’ve just made me the happiest guy on earth. God, I love you so much.” Cupping my face between his two large hands, he gently pulls me to him and captures my lips in a deep kiss. The kind of kiss that stirs instant need in my body. The kind that has me unfastening my seat belt and sliding over to get closer to him, ready to fog these windows and defile Chris and Andrea’s truck on the side of this desolate road.

Jonah breaks free as my palm finds an appealing spot pressed against his fly, his breath ragged. “You know what this means, right?” His forehead rests against mine. “This is a big commitment.”

“I moved to Alaska for you, didn’t I?” Haven’t I already committed to him?

“Holy shit.” Jonah exhales. “So? Should we go tell Phil that we’ll take it?”

I steal a moment for my own calming breath as I eye the long driveway ahead. “Do you think he’s even sober enough to have this conversation?” It’s been a few hours since we first visited. That’s a long time for an old man and his bottle of whiskey, alone in the woods.

“Let’s find out.” Throwing the old truck into Drive, Jonah eases up the driveway. Our new driveway, soon. A nervous flutter churns in my stomach.

My hand is firmly clasped within Jonah’s the entire way.

Chapter Nine

March

“I swear, I really do want to come, but I don’t think we can afford it this year, with all these bills! Plus, there’s his sister’s wedding. We have to fly to freaking Costa Rica. Who makes their entire family pay thousands of dollars to see them get married?”

I smile, thinking about that time Diana mentioned how nice a destination wedding would be. Now’s not the time to remind her of that, though. “What if I pay for your tickets?” Since Diana moved into an exorbitantly priced one-bedroom condo in Liberty Village with her boyfriend this past January and decided she’s going to law school, she’s been nonstop complaining about money. Or maybe I’ve noticed it more because money isn’t going to be an issue for me soon.

“That’s generous of you, Calla, but you know Aaron … He’d never accept that.” And God forbid Diana spent a few days away from him to come here on her own. “We’ll figure it out. When are your parents coming up?”

“I don’t know. My mom mentioned end of June for my birthday, but the shop is so busy with weddings that it’s probably going to be impossible.”

“I’m sure she’ll make it work. And I will, too, I promise! If not this year, then definitely next year.” Diana’s remorseful voice rings in my ear.

“I can’t wait.” It’s been two and a half months since I hugged my best friend goodbye, an emotional farewell the night before I flew here. While we still text like we’re in the same city, the weight of missing weekly meet-ups and laughs lingers in the background, suitably masked by the flurry of activity tied to my move, flaring on the rare occasion that I hear her voice.