The Simple Wild: A Novel(127)

With my house keys in hand, I slide out of the Acura and begin slowly making my way up our driveway. The temperature is hovering just below freezing, enough to keep the asphalt coated with the light dusting of snow that fell earlier tonight.

I ease past Simon’s car, and then my mom’s, past the array of garbage and recycling and . . .

“Ah, crap,” I mutter. It’s garbage day tomorrow. Well, today, technically, as it’s now one a.m.

I toss my purse on the stone pathway and then backtrack, to start hauling the bins down the driveway, one at a time. On my third trip back to fetch the recycling, I give the handle a sharp yank to pop the bin on its wheels. The lid lifts and a furry black face pops up in front of me.

I let out a shriek as I stumble back in my heels, barely catching my balance.

“God dammit, Sid. You get me every single time!” I yell through gritted teeth, my heart racing. “Why won’t you hibernate!”

He chatters back and then leaps out of the bin to run under Simon’s car, scattering a few cans on his way. Tim scampers behind.

A deep, warm chuckle from our front porch fills the silence.

My lungs stop working.

There’s only one man who laughs like that.

I dart up the stone path, ignoring my heels in the cracks, to find Jonah settled into one of the chairs, his legs splayed, his arms lying casually on the rests. As if it’s not cold out.

“How do you know which one’s which?” he asks casually.

“The white patch above Tim’s eyes is wider,” I mumble, still trying to process this.

Jonah’s here.

Jonah’s in Toronto.

Jonah has no beard.

“What’d you do to your face?” I blurt.

He runs his hand over his chiseled jaw. He looks so different without it. More like that picture of him with my dad from a decade ago. “I lost my groomer a while back and I couldn’t find another one as good.” His icy blue eyes rake over my black dress and heels as I climb the steps, my legs feeling wobbly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since about nine. You were already out.”

“Diana and I went out to dinner. And then out to a club.” I frown. “You should have called. Someone should have told me—”

“You kidding?” He chuckles, nodding toward the driveway. “That was totally worth waiting out here for.”

I stand there for another long moment, dumbly. I’m still in shock. “You stopped answering my texts.”

The amusement vanishes from his face. “It was too hard.”

“It was,” I agree, offering him a sad smile. I knew I shouldn’t be writing him, shouldn’t be saying good morning and good night. I knew that keeping that connection wouldn’t help either of us move on in the long run. Still, it took everything in me to stop myself.

And now Jonah’s sitting in front of me.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, Calla?” He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not?”

“Alaska. You’ve ruined Alaska for me.” His tone is playful, and yet there’s a hint of accusation buried within.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“Are you really, though?”

“No. Not totally,” I admit with a sheepish smile and a tiny spark of hope, because maybe I’m not the only one who has been unhappy. Maybe I’m not the only one who might have accidentally, unintentionally found themselves in love.

He holds out a hand. I take it without pause, allowing him to pull me into his lap. I fall against his hard body and can’t help the tiny sound I make. It feels even better than I remember it feeling.

Is this really happening?

Did Jonah fly all the way here, just to see me?

He hooks a hand around the backs of my thighs to pull my legs up, tucking my body closer to him, and then takes my hand in his, tracing the tips of my freshly filed and lacquered nails with his thumb. “Have you been—”

“Miserable.” I push his baseball cap off, letting it fall to the porch floor, and press my forehead against his. “Nothing’s the same here anymore.” Or at least, I’m not the same. Sure, I still go out with Diana and our friends, but I ghost the second I can, preferring to linger on the couch next to my mom and Simon, listening to them bicker in their funny ways. Diana’s drive to make something of Calla & Dee is still there, but I’ve been spending my time focused on my memories of Alaska, and my father, and Jonah—posting pictures that make me smile or laugh, and sharing the stories behind them, even if no one but me is going to read them. Simon says it’s therapeutic for me. Maybe it is, but I just want to keep those days fresh and alive in my mind for as long as possible, because I know I’ll never get them back.

I never wear makeup for my runs anymore and even when I do put it on, it’s with a lighter hand. And the jacket Jonah bought me hangs in the front closet. I reach for it every time I find myself needing comfort.

It’s ironic that no sooner had I gotten back to the city bustle that I was craving than I missed the simple calm and peaceful quiet that I’d just left.

Jonah smirks with satisfaction. “Good.”

I can’t stop myself from grazing the light stubble of his jaw with my palm and dipping down to press my lips against his, knowing that letting ourselves fall back into this routine will only make our parting that much more agonizing.