I smile with the reminder that I’m not the only one who would struggle with this arrangement—Jonah would miss me, too. “You’re a big boy. You’ll survive. We both will. I mean, come on … Jessie Winslow’s husband leaves her for weeks at a time, and look how well she handles it.”
Jonah snorts. “Yeah, I heard exactly what she tries to handle. You sayin’ I’ll come back to you pounding draft beer and hittin’ on Toby?”
“If you do, go easy on him. He’s probably tried to fend me off.”
“Yeah, doubt that,” he mutters.
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Jonah, take the job. I know you want it, and I don’t want you turning down jobs you want because of me. That doesn’t make me happy.”
He sighs, and I could be mistaken, but I sense his relief. “I’ll call Jack tomorrow. He’d have to accommodate my schedule for those two hunting parties I’ve already committed to, but he said it shouldn’t be a problem.”
That guilty prick that’s been needling me all night begins to fade, because I know pushing him to accept this offer is the right thing to do. Yet, I don’t feel lighter about the decision. But this is what life with Jonah will always be like. I need to learn to take the good with the bad.
I lean in to skate my lips across his neck, ready to pick up where I hindered him earlier.
But his blue eyes are searching the porch’s cedar ceiling in deep thought. He swallows hard. “I had an interesting conversation with Sam tonight.”
“I noticed.” The firefighter pilot is a lot shorter than he looks in his yellow plane. Jonah towered over him. “About what?”
He hesitates. “About flying for him. He’s got four Fire Bosses. Alaska Fire Services contracts his company out to help fight forest fires. He wants to know if I’d work for him this summer.”
“What do you mean? Like, fighting fires?” I ask warily.
“Yeah. Last year was bad and they’re expecting it to be worse this year. It could mean work for me through till August, even until I leave in September. I wouldn’t even have to work all winter, if I don’t want to, with the kind of money I can make.” He peers at me. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Really?” Because he’s never mentioned it to me before.
“Yeah.” He frowns. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing. I just … is it safe?”
“As safe as anything I do is ever gonna b
e.”
“Yeah, but flying a plane is one thing. Fighting fires is … You’ve never done it before.”
“Which is why he’d train me. I’ve got more than enough experience flying, so that part won’t be hard.”
That doesn’t bring me much comfort, though. What if Jonah has engine problems like we did, while flying over a raging fire? How low will he have to fly? What if the smoke gets too bad and he can’t see? But another, more immediate issue stirs in my mind. “But what about The Yeti?”
“The gig with Sam would be contract only, for the summer.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing it’s on an as-needed basis?” Forest fires don’t follow a schedule. “How am I supposed to book people if you could be called away to fight fires at any given time?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.” He drags a fingertip over my bare shoulder, down my arm, my exposed skin covered in gooseflesh. But the look on his face is not carnal. It’s pensive, as if he’s lost in his own thoughts. “I think I’d be good at it.”
“You’d be amazing at it.” There doesn’t seem to be anything Jonah isn’t good at, when it comes to planes. “But this is an entire summer.” The busiest time for any charter pilot in Alaska. “Don’t you think you need to be focusing on building the charter business? At least until you’re established? Tying yourself up for an entire summer for someone else might not be the best move.”
He shrugs. “I’d go out with one of the guys before I commit.”
“Right.” But he will commit because this sounds right up his alley.
“Are you angry?” he asks.
“No, I’m just … I don’t know what I am.” Annoyed, maybe. Here I am, talking the charter company up all night to anyone who would listen, when he might not even be around to fly.
But this also feels like a bit of a reality slap. The Yeti has felt like a joint venture up until now, but have I been fooling myself? Maybe it’s always been Jonah’s, and I’m lingering in the background, giving myself make-work projects to burn the days away, trying to make it into something it’ll never be.