For the next hour, the sun shining through the big window heats the small space to nuclear, making me feel like I’m in a pressure cooker. I’ve eaten a prepackaged sandwich and guzzled water, read several chapters of a cozy mystery set on Prince Edward Island—a place on my bucket list—and brushed out and re-pinned my hair. My texts to Greta finally send, but I don’t get a reply.
When I try calling, it goes straight to her voicemail. I turn away from the center table where Russel’s posse has gotten louder. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’d been drinking, but of course that’s against policy.
“Hey Greta, looks like I might have to miss our call.” I say to the phone. “I’m so sorry. We had some bad weather heading here and—” I stop my ramble before it starts with a pinch of my lips. “You’re going to do great at tryouts. I can’t wait to hear all about it!” My gut tightens. I hate letting her down like this. “Okay, bye.”
When we finally get clearance to fly, the crew packs up and heads for the plane. Wheeling my bag across the warm, windswept tarmac, I don’t notice Russel has come up next to me until we’re queuing up to ascend the boarding ramp single file.
“I heard things got a little tense back there on that last flight,” he says in a low tone.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.” I keep my eyes focused ahead.
“You doing okay?”
I shoot him a look. Up close to him like this, I get a hint of B.O. and the mints he’s always sucking on. “Yeah. Are you?”
He gives a chuckle, but it’s dry. “I’ve been better.”
There’s a vulnerable edge to his tone that I haven’t heard in a long time. “Can I help?”
He shakes his head. “Do you have a time machine? So I can go back and fix what I fucked up?”
“Sorry, I’m fresh out of those.” I give him a soft smile.
For an instant, the pain in his eyes melts away. “I wasn’t with Trina. She tried to sell me coke in a bar. That’s it.”
He said the same thing to me the night of Dad’s party, and I still don’t care. “Okay.”
“But she knew your firefighter. Intimately.”
I sigh. He just couldn’t resist, is that it? “Russ, please let’s not do this.” Before he can reply, I slip past him and hurry into the plane.
Jordan comes up next to me as I’m stowing my things. “Is he hassling you?”
I huff a breath, puffing out my cheeks. “No. It’s fine.” But weird. A time machine? Making stuff up about Linden to upset me?
Forty minutes later, with the midnight sun low on the horizon, we lift off from Dillingham. Passengers are grumpy and surly, even with the free drink coupons dispensed by the airlines for the delay, so the overbooked flight keeps me on my toes.
After we land, when I toggle my phone back into WiFi, a text pops up.
DAD:
You want to get breakfast tomorrow?
Sudden tears prick my eyes. Maybe it’s because of the odd conversation with Russ. Or that I justfucking missmy dad so much that his invitation feels especially touching.
I haven’t yet rehearsed what to say to him about the party. Maybe he’s figured some of it out, and wants to clear the air?
It’s almost midnight in Finn River—too late to text Dad back—but I’ll do so first thing in the morning. While the plane taxis to the terminal, I check that I haven’t missed a text from Linden, but there’s nothing from him or Greta. However, there’s one from Russel.
It contains a picture of Linden and Trina. They’re facing each other, in conversation, and the look on their faces is…intense.
RUSSEL:
You should be with me
I set my phone facedown in my lap and look out the window. Where did that picture come from? How did Russ even get it?
“Isn’t Finn River where you live now?” Jordan asks, frowning at me over the top of his phone.
