The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

Until finally I relent to the onslaught of tears.

Because I’m not going home with one giant hole in my heart.

I’m going home with two.

“You can take that one with you.” Jonah nods to the tattered paperback I was thumbing through when he stepped into the bedroom. “You know, for when you learn how to stay awake while reading a book.”

My nostrils catch a waft of his minty toothbrush all the way from my spot on his bed. The guy spends an unnatural amount of time in the bathroom brushing his teeth every day, which is I guess in part why he has such a perfect smile.

I roll my eyes at him while brazenly gawking at his powerful body as he peels off his cotton shirt and tosses it into his hamper. Next off are his baggy, unflattering jeans, revealing muscular thighs and calves. “I’m going to teach you how to buy pants that fit you,” I murmur mildly.

I expect a quip about treating him like a doll or something along those lines, but he merely chuckles.

Because it’s an empty promise and we both know it.

This is the last night I’ll be curled up beneath the blankets in his bed, watching him undress after a long day of flying, feeling my body warm to the promise of his hot skin and his hard torso and his enveloping arms.

I’m leaving tomorrow.

And this crushing weight on my chest tells me I’m nowhere near ready to say goodbye.

The mattress sinks under Jonah’s heft as he sits on the edge, his broad, muscular back to me. He pauses a moment there, his gaze on the bedside lamp, but his thoughts seemingly far beyond it.

He hasn’t said a word about my departure, besides confirming basic logistical details. He hasn’t said much about my dad being gone, either, and I know that it’s hit him hard; his jaw has been permanently taut since my father took his last breath.

For a guy who has always dealt with sensitive issues like a bull charging at a waving red cloth, I think my “Fletcherism” of avoidance has finally rubbed off on him.

In this moment, I’m thankful for it, because I’d rather spend our last night together making a memory than dreading our separate futures.

I push aside my sorrowful thoughts and crawl over to rope my arms around his chest from behind. I press my body in a tight hug against him, reveling in the feel of him this one last time.

I huddle in my layers of fleece and cotton as Jonah sets my two silver suitcases next to me. It’s turned frigid these last few days. If I stayed any longer, I’d need to buy a winter wardrobe. Forecasters are calling for snow early next week. Villagers have been loading their boats with necessities ahead of the coming freeze, knowing they could be waiting weeks before their icy highway is safe to handle their ATVs and snow machines.

Meanwhile back in Toronto, my mom arrived to an unexpected autumn heat wave.

Jonah lifts his hat and smooths his thick ash-blond hair back. “That’s everything?”

“I think— No, shit. I forgot my purse.”

“Give me a sec.” His shoulders are curled inward as he trudges back to Veronica.

And I wonder, for the thousandth time, if I’m making a mistake by leaving him.

“Here.” He hands my purse to me, his glacier blue eyes meeting mine for a second before shifting away.

I hesitate. “Jonah—”

“You don’t have to leave.”

I guess we’re finally going to have this gut-stabbing conversation after all, then.

“I do. My dad is gone. It’s time for me to go home.”

“You’ve got a home here, for as long as you want it.”

“It’s not the same. I . . . Your life is here, and my life is back there. This was only temporary.” A lump forms in my throat.

“And you don’t even want to try.” His tone is thick with accusation.