“Just come back to Alaska and you’ve got it, buddy,” Jonah throws with a grin. “’Cuz you know I ain’t ever leaving.”

Everyone laughs.

Meanwhile my lungs constrict.

Jonah is not ever leaving Alaska.

I’ve been acutely aware of it since our first kiss, and trying to ignore it every time he rolls his body off mine, curls his arms around me, and we drift off into the quiet night. I’ve known and still I’ve gone to him, day after day, night after night, happy to take everything I can have while I can.

Never expecting to feel this much for him.

I haven’t even left yet and already it hurts.

“Damn straight we’ll be back. Five years. Tops.” Max chuckles softly and then turns to search out my dad, who’s milling in a back corner, his hands clasped casually in front of him, smiling quietly. Max takes a deep breath. “Wren, I want to thank you for believing in me enough to hire me—”

“Best thank Agnes, then. She’s the one who pulled your résumé out of the pile and called you up for the interview.”

“I just liked his smile,” Agnes says with a shrug.

Another round of laughter.

“Well, you didn’t just give me a job, but you gave one to Sharon, too. Lord knows she would have gone crazy here if you didn’t, and I think you knew that. I mean, happy wife, happy life, right?”

A chorus of agreement sounds from the married men in the room.

“Whatever the reason, I owe you big-time for that, and for all the memories we’ve gained over these past three years with the Wild family. Sharon and I, we’ve been layin’ in bed at night, reminiscing. Like, just this past January, when we got slammed with that massive storm and then it was, like, minus twenty for five days straight? Everyone was going stir crazy, so what do these guys do but throw a freaking luau, with Hawaiian music and food, and everything. Wren showed up wearing a grass skirt and coconuts. I swear, I’ve got the pictures!” Chuckles roll through the room. “And then there was that time last winter when we built that gigantic snow cave out back and lit it all up with candles. Wren hauled out the old grill and started grillin’ burgers. It was like a summer barbecue, except with your nose hairs stuck together.” Max sighs. “Man, we’ve had so many good times with you and everyone at Wild.” He holds a hand up. “I am still sorry about the wallpaper. I didn’t know how much those ducks meant to you, but if it helps at all, it was all Jonah’s idea and I was drunk as a skunk.”

And thus, the mystery of the duck nipples, solved.

My dad shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . thank you, for giving me a chance to fly up here for you, for letting us be a part of the Wild family, and all the laughs. And . . . uh . . .” He bows his head a minute, clears his throat, and when he looks up again, I see the sheen in his eyes. “I sure am gonna miss you,” he manages to say through a hoarse voice.

Sharon’s hand goes to her mouth as she dips her head, trying to hide the tears that now roll down her cheeks. Other sniffles sound then. I dare to let my gaze wander, to see the awareness and sadness in everyone’s eyes, the tense jaws, the resigned smiles. We all know what Max really means.

And suddenly this doesn’t feel so much like a farewell party for the happy couple leaving Alaska as much as a final goodbye for the quiet man who stands in the corner.

His shoulders hunched inward.

His face sallow and drawn.

His tired eyes and stoic smile telling me what I’ve noticed but refused to accept.

Suddenly the air in this lobby is too thick, the buzz too loud, the gazes too many.

Slipping around the food tables, I wordlessly duck into the office and keep going, through the staff room, down a long, narrow hall. I push through the door and out into the warehouse. The garage-type doors are open, allowing in a cool breeze, damp from the mist. A few grounds crew look on curiously as they haul pallets of cargo across the floor, but no one says anything about me being in there.

I rush all the way through and beyond to the hangar, my arms curled around my chest for comfort and finding none.

Veronica sits alone in the corner. She must be inside for maintenance work. I dash for her now, climbing up with ease to curl into the pilot’s seat—my dad’s seat. I smooth my hands over the yoke for a moment.

And then I pull my legs to my chest, bury my face in my lap, and let myself cry as reality sinks in.

The door opens with a creak. Somehow I know it’s Jonah without having to look.

“He’s not going to last much longer, is he?” I ask through my sniffles.

After a long moment, a warm, comforting hand smooths over my shoulders. “He’s going downhill fast.”

Finally, I dare tip my head up to rest my chin on my knees. I can only imagine how red and blotchy my face is. For once, I’m glad to be makeup-free. “I should have called. All those years that I didn’t call, I wish I had. And now there’s no time left. You and Max and everyone else have all these great memories with him and the luaus and the winter barbecues and the stupid ducks, and I am never going to have that! I don’t have enough time!” I thought I was all cried out, but a fresh set of tears begins to trickle.

I’ve spent the last twelve years dwelling on all the things Wren Fletcher isn’t.