The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

“Hell, no. Couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“Why?”

He sighs, as if he doesn’t have the energy to answer a question like that. “Too fast, too loud, too materialistic—take your pick.”

The exact opposite of Bangor, I’m quickly gathering. “But why this part of Alaska? I mean, why didn’t you go back to Anchorage, if that’s where you grew up? It looks nice. Peaceful. From what I saw, anyway.” And from what I read, it’s a real city.

“I like it better here.”

I’m sensing he could say a lot more but has no interest to. Still, I’m too curious to stop asking questions. “How’d you end up working for my dad, anyway?”

“One of the pilots was an old friend of my father’s. He hooked me up.”

Mention of Jonah’s father reminds me of what Agnes revealed yesterday. I hesitate. It’s a sensitive topic, but it’s also a connection between us. “I heard your dad had cancer, too.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something—when his father died, from what type of cancer, how long he suffered, how long he fought. I want to ask if Jonah was close to his father, if it still hurts. Maybe that bit of information will make him seem more human; maybe he’ll soften when he realizes that we have at least one thing in common.

“Yup.”

His hand tightens around the steering wheel and I instantly regret bringing it up. Though, I think I got the answer as to whether it still hurts.

I quickly search for a new, safe topic to switch to.

I find it in the form of a golden-yellow sign. “Hey! You guys have a Subway!” I don’t even like subs and yet I’m excited, for no other reason than it’s something familiar.

He relaxes his grip. “It’s the only chain you’ll find around here.”

“So . . . I guess that means no Starbucks?” I hazard, topping it off with a playful grin.

Icy blue eyes flicker to me a moment before adjusting to the road. “Nope.”

“Is there somewhere I can grab a coffee?”

We come to a stoplight, the first one so far. With his hand still curled around the steering wheel, he points a long index finger—the nail bitten off, cuticle cracking—at a forest-green building. “Right there.”

A white bristol-board sign hangs over the darkened entryway. “Berta’s Coffee and Bait Shop?” I read out loud.

“Yeah. You know . . . fish eggs, leeches, herring, shad, chunks of dead—”

“I get it,” I cut him off with a cringe. “But in a coffee shop? That’s got to be a health code violation.”

“People need to diversify to keep their businesses afloat around here.”

“I guess.” I’m still cringing when I notice the ramshackle building next to it, a medley of ill-sized plywood boards and metal sheets and worn paint, and a wooden board slapped to the front that has SZECHUAN’S scrawled across it with, I’m guessing, a wide paintbrush. “Oh my God. Is that . . . a Chinese food restaurant?” Because it looks like a backyard clubhouse built out of scrap material by a bunch of ten-year-old boys.

“It’s been there forever.”

That place would be shut down for a slew of health and building code violations in a day, anywhere else in North America.

“Where the hell am I?” I mumble, aiming my phone. Wait until Diana sees this.

I feel his steady gaze on me. “Do you want me to pull over, so you can run in and see if they have a fresh pot of—”

“No thanks. I’ll wait.” I’d rather deal with this pounding headache than accept a coffee from someone who most certainly didn’t wash their hands enough after sticking them into a vat of writhing earthworms.

I think there’s a small smile lurking behind that beard, but it’s hard to see. Still, I feel an odd sense of accomplishment at the possibility that this “teddy bear”—by Agnes’s description—might not despise me as much as he seemed to initially.

He makes another turn—either my dad’s directions on that note were wrong or Jonah took me the long way—and we’re now on Main Street, a wider road lined with more of the same simple siding-clad buildings, only with business signs. Bangor seems to have all the service staples—law office, dentist, chamber of commerce, bank, even a real estate broker—as well as a string of sandwich, pizza, and family restaurants that are basic but don’t look like they’re serving up listeria.