I give him a look—he didn’t see that coming?—and shake my head.

His gaze drifts along my bare collarbone, over the knot in the front of my towel, and the hint of cleavage peeking out. “And then I met you, and you were like a wrecking ball comin’ into my life, Calla.” He laughs. “A fucking beautiful, hot-pink wrecking ball. And everything changed for me. All these things I didn’t want before, suddenly all I could think about was havin’ them all with you.” His eyes land on my mouth. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about them since.”

I capture his lips with mine, coaxing his mouth open with my tongue as a shaky sigh of relief escapes me. It feels like our first kiss all over again—tentative and brimming with raw need. My hand finds his cheek, the coarse hair of his jaw tickling my skin. “Same. You did that to me, too.” My entire perspective on life seemed to change, and a big part of that was because of Jonah.

He turns his face in to kiss my palm. “I’m so used to having Marie as my sounding board for everything that at first, I didn’t think twice about venting to her after that day up in the safety cabin.” He meets my gaze. “But then she said what she did, and I started thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be talking to her about us. Not because I think she’d ever try to convince me to leave you. That’s not her. But it can’t feel good, to listen to me talk about the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

His jaw tenses, and when he peers up at me, I see a raw, vulnerable pain that Jonah so rarely makes visible. I can’t get close enough to him, twisting and clambering onto his lap, my entire body moulding to his as my thighs wrap around his hips and my arms rope around his head and every other part of me is pressed against him.

I feel a sharp tug on my towel and then it’s unraveling, leaving me naked against his dressed body. But there is no playful foreplay this time around. No pauses, no lingering looks or smiles or touches. Our mouths and hands become tangled and rough in a frantic attempt to touch and kiss every part of each other as we maneuver our way fully onto our bed.

Jonah tugs his shirt and track pants off in a hurry, as if he can’t wait another second, and then flattens me beneath his weight as we roll into each other. I coil my legs around his hips, opening myself up for him. He pulls back long enough to peer down at me, the agony in his eyes piercing my heart. “I can’t ever lose you, Calla.”

I wasn’t the only one panicking about our impending doom—knowledge that brings me great comfort.

“You won’t. Ever.” I grip the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine. A low moan escapes as he slides into me. His hips move rhythmically, never rushing, never relenting. Over and over again, matching the drumbeat of my heart, as our bodies coil tighter, and our sounds grow hoarse, and our mouths whisper sweet promises of always.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“You have everything?”

Diana absently pats the pockets of her denim jacket as she takes inventory of the luggage Jonah unloaded onto the Anchorage airport curb—one suitcase stuffed with twelve outfits for her four-day trip, a backpack, and her oversized purse—and then nods. “I think I’m good. If I forgot anything, it’s yours. Okay! This trip was amazing! Oh my God, I’m going to cry!” She throws her arms out.

My eyes are watering as we embrace, and I’m not sure whose grip is tighter. Her flight to Toronto through Vancouver leaves in two hours, and I want to hold on to her until the last possible second. I want to beg her not to leave.

These past few days flew by in a blur of late-night laughter, premature wedding planning, and sight-seeing, visiting some of the same landmarks we did last summer with my father. We made it to Juneau after all, spending all day yesterday marveling at the glaciers, searching for humpback whales and bald eagles, and touring the picturesque and colorful downtown shops. We arrived home late last night, the glow of a hazy orange sun low on the horizon and my soul aching with a mix of emotions.

Diana has to go back to her reality, though—to Aaron and Beef Stick, to lively nights in her pricy Liberty Village condo and getting ready for law school, which I’m guessing is going to take up much of her focus in the coming years.

And I have to go find my new reality in this sleepy town in Alaska.

“Thank you for everything.” She grips Jonah’s shoulders in a fierce hug, adding in a whisper that I catch, “Take care of her for us.”

“Always,” comes his gruff response.

She discreetly brushes a tear from her cheek and then, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and popping the handle on her suitcase, Diana blows us a kiss and strolls through the doors, her furtive gaze already scanning the signs for directions.

We’re left standing at the curb with cars waiting to take our spot in the passenger drop-off lane. It’s time to go, and yet I can’t seem to make my legs move toward the passenger side.

“It’s going to be so quiet without her around.” A hot tear trickles over my lip.

Too quiet.

“You want me to drive?” Jonah offers.

The prickly lump in my throat flares. “Yes, please.”

But instead of moving for the driver’s side, Jonah slips an arm around me and pulls me into his side to press a kiss against my forehead. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I steal a glance at him, in a soft cotton T-shirt and a pair of faded, worn blue jeans—his favorite, I’ve come to learn. Since our explosive fight on Saturday and epic reconciliation on Sunday morning, things have felt “right” between us again. But now I see worry veiled in his blue eyes. He’s afraid it was only temporary. That Diana was a Band-Aid for our ongoing challenges.

And that’s exactly what she was, if we allow it.

If I allow it.

I hate seeing Jonah like this. He’s supposed to be the confident, assured one. I’m the one who doesn’t have her shit together.

But perhaps that’s where things need to change.

I sink into him, reaching up to cup his chin. I offer him a reassuring smile. “Let’s go home.”

My shoes kick loose gravel as I trek behind Jonah, my attention on the mountain range in the distance. Denali looms as it does every day, a silent, imposing expanse of rock, its caps still marked with snow. It has become a constant for me here, an anchor of sorts, and seeing it triggers an odd sense of calm that I can’t explain, despite my melancholy over Diana leaving.

“What’s all this stuff?” Jonah stoops to pick something up by the front door. “Someone left two dozen eggs here. And our plate?” He holds it in the air.

I spy the red roses bordering the white china dish through the porch screen door. “I left that at Roy’s last week. I brought him muffins.” That was on Friday, before I took him to the hospital, before our enormous fight.

“You gave him muffins?” Jonah glowers. “I was wonderin’ where those went.”

“Roy must have had Toby drop off these things.” Is this supposed to be a peace offering?

Jonah notices something else sitting on the stoop. “What are these?”

I push through the porch door and see the wooden objects in Jonah’s grasp. One is a woman in a flowing summer dress, her long hair trailing behind her with a loose braid woven in, her hands clasped behind her back to hold a hat. The other is an animal with large ears, its surface rougher, the details less defined. “Those are Roy’s carvings. They’re his. He makes them,” I mumble, pulling out my phone.