Chapter 28 Alec
Alec
We had to drive to Anchorage for that thing.
It’s nearly ten by the time we arrive at the lodge. I shove open the front door with my shoulder, Clem’s laugh still caught in the space between us. Her hair brushes along my shoulder, still smelling of pine and sulfur from the hot spring.
“I still don’t understand why we needed three beds,” I say as I set down the crate, puppy kibble, and the pile of soft things she insisted on. My keys clatter onto the side table, right beside a new photo of Finn and me in Patagonia. Clem must have just added it.
“Because he needs options.” She coos at the half-asleep creature in her arms, kissing the top of his tiny head.
Two hours ago, those lips were on me. Blood rushes hot just remembering.
Kissing her was like the delirious high of the death zone, and I’d trek miles to taste her again.
But for now, I have to figure out how to wash seven pounds of dirt off a dog I didn’t ask for.
I glare at the pup.
“I don’t understand how you could hate this cute little face and these little toe beans,” she whispers as I crouch to unlace her boots.
“I don’t hate it. I just…pets are a responsibility. Staying in one place. Finding a sitter.”
“Dogs also are routines, and you love routines. You could train him to be your little mini-me.”
“I think he likes you better.” I rise and catch a faint wisp of smoke. My pulse ticks up. I never forget to put out the fire.
“Did you invite someone over?” I ask, and she shakes her head. I slowly make my way down the hallway, rounding into the main room.
The heat drains from my face. In front of the fire is Finn—three days early. Fuck, I didn’t stock the fridge yet or wash his sheets. My mind spirals, flipping through all the unfinished items on my checklist.
He’s in a wheelchair, leafing through one of the adventure novels.
His face is gaunt, cheekbones pushing at his pale skin.
My throat constricts. He’s skinnier and paler than I’ve ever seen him.
One of those ragged old T-shirts from some base camp fundraiser we did in 2014 sits crooked on his bony shoulders.
His long brown hair hangs loose, and his beard has doubled in length.
“Finn—”
He looks up, eyes widening, and smiles the only way he knows how—with his entire face. His teeth flash in the firelight. “ALEC!” His voice hits the rafters as he wheels toward me. “Bro, look at you!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Early release. Couldn’t stand another day eating Jell-O.” His grin tilts. “I caught the tail end of Wild Trails!”
“You saw?”
“Nah, just the last hour. People said you bolted the second you qualified. Nothing’s changed, dude.”
I scratch my neck, finding myself unable to meet his gaze.
What would he think if he knew the real reason I ran off? Did he show up to see if I was really going to go through with the competition?
If I told him about the panic on the wall, he’d use it as another reason why we should retire.
He slaps my thigh. “Hello? You zoning out already? Lean down here and give me a hug. Pretend you’re happy to see me before you introduce me to this lovely lady and puppy you have with you.”
“I am happy to see you.” It isn’t a lie, but unease settles in. I push the thoughts from my mind. Finn’s here, and he’s alive. That’s all that matters. I force a smile and crouch to hug his fragile frame. “Look at you.”
“Yeah, I know. Still prettier than you.” He smacks my cheeks with affection. “But not prettier than you. Clementine Lennox, I presume. We loved your grandpa. Sorry to hear about his passing,” Finn says.
“Thanks. I miss him all the time.” Clem sighs before throwing Finn a dazzling smile, the kind that took me a week to earn. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You mean he speaks to you? Wow. Took him three years to warm up to me. So, consider yourself lucky.”
“It did not.” I roll my eyes.
Clem and Finn exchange a knowing glance, and I hate it already.
“And who’s this sleepy boy?” Finn touches the dog’s limp paw, and he doesn’t stir.
“We just found him today! Alec’s keeping him,” Clem says.
“He is?” Finn scrunches his face at me.
Before I can respond, a new voice cuts in. “Clementine Lennox, as I live and breathe!”
A woman with long, sleek black hair steps out of the kitchen in turquoise scrubs, a bottle of pills in hand.
“Yura!” Clem lights up, thrusting Mozart into my arms. The dog jolts awake at the squeals that follow as the two women circle each other, hugging, laughing, and showering each other with compliments.
“Now that’s the welcome I expected.” Finn chuckles, but the knife twists deeper. I should be happy he’s here. He used to be the one person I could spend every single moment with and not get tired, but now all I see is the chair. The chair I put him in.
Why the hell did I stay on that summit one more minute?
“Just tired,” I groan.
“That’s my nurse, Yura,” Finn says, “but you can think of her as my soon-to-be wife.” My best friend falls in love like most people change socks.
Every summit, every base camp, every iced-over valley, he finds the one.
Then she vanishes like snowmelt. I’m sure this one will be the same.
“Of course we’d end up with best friends,” he adds, chestnut eyes flickering with hope.
Apparently, small-town Alaska doesn’t have rules about dating the clientele.
“Yep.”
“You really fixed this place up, huh?” He waves his hand in the air.
The room looks nothing like the husk it was—new floors, lace curtains softening the windows, a bookcase and a chessboard waiting in the corner; it looks like a home, the kind we’ve never had.
“And you got my adventure books!” He taps the paperback resting on his lap. “When’d you turn into a carpenter?”
“Clementine helped. All the furniture and stuff, she picked out.” I stare at the fire.
“I was gonna ask why you never decorated Ghastly this nice.” Ghastly was the name of our Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van we drove around the States for two years.
“First of all, that thing was stuffed with our gear,” I say. “Second, we barely slept in it.”
“Yeah, we did. That hailstorm in Montana.”
“Once. In two years.”
He grins, and it feels easy, the weight loosening from my chest. “Now you’re playing house before me. Got a dog, got a girl—”
“I don’t want to keep the dog,” I cut in. Clem’s still across the room, head bent close to Yura’s, her face lit with happiness.
“What about the girl?”
At that, Clem turns, brows lifted. “Are you two talking about us?”
I’m relieved by the interruption. I’m not sure how I feel. Of course I like her, but I don’t have a plan.
“Because we are definitely talking about you,” Yura says, smiling. She swoops in and hugs me before I can react. “I’m Yura. Finn hasn’t shut up about you for the last five days.”
“Wait, you’ve been in Alaska for five days?” I ask, but the real question I want to ask is, why the hell didn’t he tell me?
“Stayed in Anchorage for a few days after the flight.”
“You flew here?”
“Yeah. Your parents insisted on the jet. Don’t worry, I tipped the steward. Dante already scared off the last one.”
“Of course he did,” I say. My younger brother has always loved giving our family staff a hard time. Not because he’s a dick, but because I think he gets a kick out of skirting the line of uncomfortability.
Yura hands Finn a few pills and a glass of water. “Yura’s made me a PT schedule you’d drool over. Said I should be walking by your comp next month. Docs said the surgery went well. Still can’t feel half my hip, but I can sit up for three hours without popping a painkiller, so hey—progress.”
“You should have told me you were here,” I grumble.
“You had the competition, and it gave Yura and me time to get to know each other,” Finn says, tilting his head up like he can’t believe she exists. “You’re glowing,” he adds.
“And you’re full of pain meds,” she teases.
They lock eyes for a beat too long.
I clear my throat. “And you two already know each other?”
“Only Misthaven’s most notorious girl squad of summers past.” Clem sidles up next to me, taking the dog from my arms. I don’t want to let him go. I may hate this fur ball, but at least he gave me something to do with my hands.
“Clem made me suffer through hours of dance recitals every summer,” Yura teases.
“Hey, that was only fair. You made us all suffer through your sled-dog wilderness phase. Remember? Right up until you realized you had to pee outside.”
“Spare me.” Yura buries her face in her hands. “I was ten.”
“Tell me you’ve mastered peeing outside?”
“Clem.” She elbows her, then slings an arm over her shoulder. “I used to count down the days until Clem visited. Summer was always the best part of the year.”
“We basically ran around the lodge pretending it was our castle.”
“There’s nothing like growing up with someone who gets you, and now we’re back together. You have to come over for a sleepover so we can catch up.”
“Are you back for good?” Clem asks, petting Mozart’s head.
“Yeah. I wanted to move home to be closer to Dad, and then this opportunity with Finn came up, so it kinda worked out. Heavens, it’s so good to see you, ClemClem.”
At that, Finn yawns, blinking slow.
Shit. My stomach knots. I need to get my stuff out of his room. I’ve been staying there since none of the other rooms are done.
“Let me show you to your room so you can get some rest,” I say, in a rush, like if I move us along quickly enough, he won’t notice my cracks.
“Rest? No way. Let’s open a bottle of wine. I want to hear everything—how you two met, how Wild Trails is going, what you’ve been up to. And Iceland. J said you dropped me off the email chain.”
I freeze. Of course he noticed. Of course he’s waiting to hear me say it out loud—that I’m backing out on him, breaking the one promise that still ties us together. My chest pulls tight.
“Maybe in a few days,” I manage, stiff. “Clem and I have to get to sleep. Early morning tomorrow, first backpacking trip.”
Clem frowns. “I thought that was next weekend?”
“Nope. Tomorrow.”
“I’m pretty sure the schedule said rest day?”
“No.” My voice comes out flat. “We leave tomorrow. Gotta make sure we build the stamina to work hard three days in a row.” It’s a lie, but I need time to figure out how to be around my best friend without this pang of sadness and contempt sitting like a boulder on my chest.
The silence drags. Clem’s mouth parts like she’s going to push, but then she presses her lips shut. She doesn’t call me out, but I see the flicker in her eyes. She knows something’s off.
“But we have Mozart now. We can’t just leave him.”
“We’ll watch him,” Finn says.
“You don’t—” I start, but Yura’s already scooped the dog up, Mozart wagging his tail like the traitor he is.
“We’d love to,” she says. “I live right down the street. Since Finn’s my only client, I’ll be here a lot anyway.”
“Good,” I say, already edging toward the hall, toward escape. “We’ll catch up soon. Your room is the one off the kitchen.” My throat feels raw, like if I stand here another second, he’ll see everything I’m holding in.
If he pushes again—if he asks me to look him in the eye and admit I’m moving on without him—I don’t think I can lie to his face.
I don’t know how to stay in Alaska and not feel like I’m betraying the person I became on the side of a mountain.
I don’t know how to be Finn’s friend and love the mountains he couldn’t keep.
I don’t know how to let myself want things that might last.
So, like a coward, I abandon him.