Chapter 8
Hunter
I’m up bright and early the next morning because I want to be standing on the bow as we arrive in Skagway.
From a distance, I can make out the Skagway Ranges, the jagged, white-capped mountains standing tall at the far north end of town. Downtown Skagway comes into focus next—streets, businesses, restaurants, and stores I know like the back of my hand. We head for the Railroad Dock, the smallest of the cruise ship docks, and as we get closer, I get the best surprise—my sisters, Harper and Parker, are waiting to meet the ship.
I wave at them like crazy as they jump up and down with glee.
“Hunter!”
“Hunter, you’re here!”
It’s good to be home, and I’m especially relieved to see Harper. Something felt off last night as Isabella and I said good night, and I know Harper will make sense of it for me if I lay it all out for her.
“Hey!” I yell to Parker. “Why aren’t you working?”
“I am!” she calls back. “I’ve got a Chilkoot hike at eight. Came into town for a case of bottled water and convinced Harp to come with me to the dock.”
“Lucky me,” I tell Parker, winking at her.
“Hey!” yells Harper, putting her hands on her hips. “What about me? I’m giving up an hour of sleep! That’s a big sacrifice for a new mama!”
“Got time for breakfast on me?” I ask Harper as the ship pulls into its allocated slip for anchorage.
“Sure!” she says. “Glacial Coffeehouse? I think it’s the only spot open this early.”
“Perfect!”
Parker turns to Harper to say goodbye, then looks back up at me. “See you at dinner?”
“Of course. Later, Park!”
As my middle sister heads back to her car, I turn around and find Rick Jones behind me, eyes trained on Parker’s retreating ass. He holds a paper coffee cup near his lips, a light smile on his face.
I look back at Parker walking to her car in flip-flops, denim cutoff shorts, and a red windbreaker. Her legs are long and tan, and her blonde hair is up in a ponytail that swings back and forth as she walks. The thought of Rick Jones going near her makes me feel sick.
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl.
“Hey…is she over eighteen?” He glances back at Parker appraisingly, then smirks at me. “Looks like she is.”
I poke him in the chest, my voice as menacing as I can make it. “You go near my sister, I end you. Got it?”
“Sure thing, killer,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you say.”
“Fuck you, Jones,” I say, knocking into his shoulder on purpose as I pass him.
“Fuck you, Stewart,” he mutters under his breath.
I take the stairs two at a time to the first deck, champing at the bit for the deckhands to lower the pedestrian gangway. As I step off the ship into the bright sunshine, Harper smiles wide, waving me over. I pull my sister into my arms, happy to be home.
“Harper! How you doing?”
“I’m good!” she says, pushing me away, but hooking her arm through mine. “But I’m also starving. Buy me breakfast. I only have an hour before Joe needs to get ready for work.”
As we stroll up Broadway, I look back at the ship to see if Rick’s tracking our progress, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He had better stay away from my family.
“Who are you looking for? Isabella?”
“Ha!” I say, shaking my head at her. “You want to talk about Isabella, huh?”
“Definitely. You got an update for me?”
“Yes. We hooked up.”
“Ah-ha! I was right!”
“You were right,” I say, nodding at her. “She was totally game for a fling.”
“And it’s going well, I take it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think so. Except…”
“Except what? Hunter, please don’t tell me you’re falling for her all over again.”
“No!” I say. “Nope! I mean, I’m having fun. I like her. The physical side is amazing. But, we have an agreement. I’m not going back on it.”
“You’re in control. Phew!”
“I am,” I say. “Feels good, too.”
“So wait…what was the ‘except?’”
“It feels like something got a little weird between us last night.”
“I need to know more,” she says as I open the door to the Glacial Coffeehouse.
Over egg sandwiches and iced coffee, I tell her about the last week, leaving out the nitty gritty details so I don’t gross her out. I finish by telling her about last night…about the party, the dancing, talking in the twilight, and having sex on the upper deck of the boat.
“Hunter,” she says, blinking at me. “This is intense.”
“Nah. It’s just a fling.”
“No, it’s not.” She narrows her eyes and leans forward. “Do you know how to have a fling?”
“Yes. I mean…that’s what we’re doing. We’re just hooking up.”
“No,” she says. “You’re not. You’re definitely not. You’re feeling things.”
“Harp—”
“You were jealous of her with that officer guy. And she was jealous of you with the tequila shot girl. You’re having these deep, intense talks about life and loss. You’re telling her about mom. You’re figuring each other out. Then you’re having, like, passionate sex against a wall, practically in public, and catching a weird vibe afterward.” She stares at me. I stare back at her. Finally, she slaps her palm on the table, making me jump. “Hunter! You’re falling for each other!”
“We’re not!” I protest. “I promise. We’re not. We haven’t spent a night together. We don’t talk about the future. We’re just…having fun.”
“Right.” Her eyes are wide when she reaches across the table for my hand. “Please don’t get hurt again.”“Harp. Listen. I’m Mr. In Control, remember? I promise. She said she was tired last night. She was probably just tired. I don’t know why I’m reading more into it.”
My sister looks like she’s about to say something else, but her phone starts chirping.
“That’s me,” she says. “Her highness will want breakfast, and Joe needs to go to work.”
“We didn’t get to talk about you,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight?” she says, standing up and shrugging into her coat.
“For sure,” I say, waving goodbye as she rushes out the door.
I sit for a few more minutes, finishing my coffee and thinking about what Harper said.
She’s wrong. I’m positive she’s wrong.
Isabella and I are enjoying an intense physical connection, and sure, maybe we’re becoming friends, too. That’s it! We’re becoming friends! Friends talk. Friends share. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s even a name for it: “friends with benefits.”
We’re friends with benefits,I tell myself. Nothing more, nothing less.
I pay the bill for breakfast and head back to the ship to start a new day of The Astonishing Race, but this time, in Skagway.
***
“Have you ever tried mining for gold?” Isabella demands, looking around the table at my family. “Oh my god, it’s so hard! My lower back is still aching, and finding actual gold was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I was sure we’d be eliminated today!”
Reeve is delighted that Isabella’s joining us for dinner and keeps peppering her with questions about the show, the challenges, and the other teams.
McKenna smiles at Isabella like she can’t believe her best friend is here, and since Tanner is happy whenever McKenna is happy, he looks like a pig in mud.
Parker’s still up on the Chilkoot with the family she took this morning, and Sawyer’s up in Whitehorse with a family of six, so they’re missing. But Gran, Paw-Paw, Dad, Harper, and Joe round out our ten-person table, with Wren fast asleep in her car seat on the floor.
“Back in the day,” says Paw-Paw, “we used to offer a mining experience here at the campground. We’d sprinkle mica out back in the Taiya and let the lil’ ’uns pan for it.”
“Did you use antique mining equipment?” asks Isabella. “Because that’s what they made us use today. Gold pan. Grizzly pan. Sluice box. I’m an expert on obsolete mining equipment now. I could write a book.”
“But who’d buy it?” deadpans Paw-Paw, and we all laugh.
“Were you required to do the mining challenge?” asks Harper. “Did you have another choice?”
“We could choose between paddling or panning,” Isabella explains. “It was my turn to choose, so I decided on panning because it sounded easier.”
“Bet your back says differently now,” says Gran.
“On the nose, Ms. Stewart! I think I was squatting in that freezing river for three hours!” She looks at me, her tantalizing lips spreading into a teasing grin. “Meanwhile, Hunter was over at the paddling challenge. You want to tell them how that went or should I?”
“You weren’t even there!”
“I heard all about it when the teams got back to the boat,” she says, “and it sounded worse than panning for gold, if that’s possible.”
“Okay, so three out of eight teams chose paddling instead of panning,” I say. “We drove them up to Bennett Lake, just south of Carcross, then guided them through the woods to the lake where there were three prospector canoes waiting. Teams had to fill the canoes with five hundred pounds of items typical to the Gold Rush era, paddle their canoe across the lake, unload their cargo, then paddle back to the starting location, and hike back through the woods to the pit stop.”
“Five hundred pounds?” asks Joe. “Hard to keep the canoe from tipping over with that much weight and two people.”
“Whomp! There it is,” sings Isabella. “Apparently all three teams capsized at one point or another and had to start over. And the water was not warm.”
“Who got eliminated?” asks Reeve, leaning forward with anticipation.
I’m about to say, Mom and Pop, when Isabella cries, “Can’t tell you!” She pretends to lock her lips and throw away the key. “You have to watch the show to find out!”
“Freezing water and aching bones. Why are you doing this, again?” asks McKenna. “Is it the money?”
“I’m not gonna lie…the money would be lovely,” says Isabella. “But the real reason is that my cousin asked me to fill in, and I said yes. That’s all there is to it.”
“You’re a good cousin,” says Tanner. “I would’ve said no.”
We all laugh again, and then a hush falls over the table.
“Hey, Hunter,” says Reeve, “are you gonna show Isabella your new house?”
Isabella turns to me. “You have a new house?”
“No,” I say. “I have a concrete foundation poured for a prefab modular cabin that’s coming in a few weeks.”
“He chose a beautiful plot of land,” adds Harper. “Right on the Taiya.”
“I’d love to see it,” Isabella says, her eyes shining when she smiles at me.
“Really? It’s a half-mile walk through the woods.”
“I’m game if you are.”
“I should probably help clean up—”
“Go!” says Gran, whisking us away with a flick of her wrists. “We can handle clean-up. Go show your girl where you’re going to live.”
Isabella gasps softly. “Oh, Ms. Stewart, I’m not—I mean, we’re not—”
“Gran, we’re not a couple. We’re just…friends.” …with benefits.
“Sure you are,” says Gran, standing up with her empty plate, picking up Paw-Paw’s, and taking both out to the kitchen.
As Isabella and McKenna share an inscrutable look, I notice that Isabella’s cheeks are bright red. I’m eager to assuage any embarrassment she might feel.
“Come on,” I say, standing up and squeezing her shoulder like a friend would. “An after-dinner walk will be nice.”
She gazes at McKenna for an extra moment before standing up.
“I’d like that,” she says.
“We’ll catch up when you get back, Iz,” says McKenna, still eyeing her best friend curiously.
Isabella nods at McKenna, then follows me out the lodge door.
***
Isabella
We walk in silence past the campfire at the center of the campground, past McKenna and Tanner’s cabin, to a wood-chip covered path in the woods that leads to a river behind the Stewart’s campground.
As we fall out of view from the lodge, Hunter’s hand brushes against mine tentatively. I press the back of my hand to his in a silent invitation, and he threads his fingers through mine in response.
“Sorry about Gran,” he says softly.
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“Your face got red.”
“I love your gran,” I tell him. “I love your whole family, in fact. But it’s no one’s business what we’re doing, or why we’re doing it, or who we are to each other.”
“I agree.”
“She’s sassy, your gran,” I tell him. “But my abuela is, too. Don’t worry. I can handle them.”
We walk in companionable silence, the sounds of nature our soundtrack as we stroll. As the sound of the river gets louder, we veer off the path to the right.
“I should warn you,” he says. “There’s not much to see yet.”
“There’s a concrete foundation, right?”
“Yep. Had it poured in May, as soon as it was warm enough.”
Trees have been cut to make space, so it’s brighter as we step into a clearing. The river is in full, glorious view, and a large, dark gray concrete slab dominates the leveled space.
“This is it,” he says, dropping my hand. “You have to use your imagination a little.”
I stand where he leaves me, watching as he hops up on the slab, his eyes sparkling with excitement. They’re so blue, I think, they give the sky a run for its money.
“Tell me how it’ll look.”
“Porch over here,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “It’s a nice porch. Big enough for a swing on one side of the front door and a couple of rockers on the other. I’ll be able to watch the river as the sun goes down.” He steps back a few feet. “Here’s the front door.” He pantomimes turning the knob and walking through it. “And now I’m in the great room. Living room and dining room combination right here.”
“Windows?” I ask, grinning at him.
“Oh, yeah! Big windows here, looking out at the Taiya. I’ll have window boxes outside. They’ll be protected by the porch overhang.”
“What color flowers?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his brows knitting together. “Whatever my wife wants, I guess.”
“Oh!” I chuckle. “There’s a wife in there with you, huh?”
He shrugs, slightly sheepish, and I have a glimpse of the little boy he was once upon a time. “I hope so.”
“Tell me more.”
He steps backward, spreading his arms again to indicate another area. “Over here is the kitchen. Full kitchen, not galley.”
“For the wife to cook your dinner?”
“Or for me to cook hers,” he says. “I love cooking.”
I didn’t know that about him, but it makes my heart flip over, imagining him in boxers and a T-shirt making me breakfast some summer morning, the sunshine streaming in through our windows, eagles calling to their mates, and the river babbling—
Stop it!
I break off my train of thought and reprimand myself, astonished by how quickly I got carried away. I won’t be that wife. Someone else will be that wife. A wave of melancholy washes over me.
Meanwhile, Hunter has moved into the bedroom area, continuing his stream of consciousness.
“…for a king-size bed. I like a nice big bed. And over here is where the bathroom goes. It’s an en suite with a door to the other room over there.”
“Nice,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Through the bathroom is the smaller bedroom. Guest room, I guess. Or maybe, someday, a baby’s room.”
“A baby?” I ask. “There’s a baby living here, too?”
He stares at a spot where I imagine a crib and changing table.
“Someday,” he murmurs, shrugging again. “Hopefully.”
Again my heart flips. Again it fists. Again I fight myself.
You do not exist in this alternate universe, I whisper desperately to my heart. This is not your future. Your future is in Seattle, not Skagway.
“…a loft for storage, like Christmas decorations or seasonal stuff. You know, things we don’t need every day…um…Bella? Isabella?”
I look up at him and blink. I was fighting an internal battle while he was talking, and it must have looked like I zoned out.
“Sorry!” I chirp.
“No,” he says, hopping down from the slab. “I get carried away, but it’s probably pretty boring.”
“It’s not! Not at all.” I hold out my hand, glad when he takes it. “It’s wonderful. Your vision is amazing, Hunter. I can see it all.” …right down to the lucky bitch who’s going to share it with you.
“Yeah?”
He squeezes my hand, but turns to grin at his concrete slab, a slight smile playing on his face as he imagines the wonderful life he’s going to build there.
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling emotional. “It’s going to be great.”
It occurs to me that any onlooker watching us might see a young couple holding hands, standing side by side, imagining their dream house together, excited for the future they’re going to share.
How very wrong they’d be.
I have no place in that dream.
I untangle my fingers from his.
“I promised McKenna we’d have time to catch up,” I tell him. “We should probably head back.”“Sure,” he says, nodding his head. As he stares at me, his eyes darken. “The faster you two catch up, the faster we get back to the boat, and I get you in my bed.”
My belly flutters with anticipation as we turn away from the site of Hunter’s future home, but my head and my heart are in conflict as we walk quietly back to the campground.
***
“Tell me everything!” McKenna demands.
She’s forbidden Tanner to interrupt us for the next hour. We’re sitting in the middle of her bed, facing each other with criss-crossed legs and a giant bowl of popcorn between us.
“What do you want to know?”
“Start with Hunter. What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be coy, Iz. There’s a weird vibe between you two.”
“How so?”
“At the table, you were practically finishing each other’s sentences. But then, when Gran assumed you two were a couple, you both got red and denied it and got super cagey.”
“That’s because we’re not a couple.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“But you’re fucking him, Iz.” She holds up her hands. “Before you try to deny it, remember that I can read you like a book. I know you.”
“Then you also know I don’t have to be in a serious relationship with someone to fuck them, Ken.”
“True enough, and you know I don’t judge. But…he’s my husband’s brother.”
“I know.”
“And—let me be clear: he never said a bad word about you to me—but I know you hurt him when you called it quits last summer. I don’t love it that you hurt him. I care about him.”
“I care about him, too.”
“Do you?”
“Of course!” I’m getting a little frazzled. “He’s a great guy, and if we lived closer to each other—”
“This again.”
McKenna takes a handful of popcorn and gives me an annoyed look.
“Long-distance is a bitch, Ken.”
“It was when you were a teenager, but you’re an adult now. You have agency. You have money. You can make your own decisions. You can figure out smart solutions to difficult situations.”
What she’s saying sounds so simple, but it scares me so much.
I don’t want to fall in love with someone who loves their family as much as I love mine, but lives far away from me. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are too important to me to only see them once or twice a year. I want my parents to take my kids for overnights, and teach them to salsa, and how to make chicken mole. I want my parents to be my kids’ emergency contacts at school, and attend their concerts and sports games. I want my kids to be proud Mexican Americans like me, and that can’t happen if I live 1,600 miles away from my family.
But, on the other hand, as much as I hate to admit it, Hunter’s important to me, too. This is the second time I’ve engaged in a relationship with him, and I can say—without reservation—that I like him better than any other guy I’ve ever been with. He’s amazing. The way he loves his family, the sweet way he tries to understand me, how he makes me feel cherished and protected. I like him so much, I don’t know how I’m going to let him go this time around.
“It was his idea,” I blurt out. “It was just supposed to be temporary while we’re doing the show.”
“And you agreed to that?”
“Sure. I mean, why not? He’s hot. I’m into him. Our chemistry is off the charts—”
“Yeah, but you’re falling for him,” she says.
“I don’t—”
“Bullshit anyone else you want in the universe,” says McKenna, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t even try to bullshit me, Iz. It’s insulting, and it hurts my feelings.”
“I’m not. I’m just…”
“Even if you can’t be honest with yourself, I’d appreciate it if you’d come clean with me.”
“Fine!” I say, reaching into the bowl for a handful of popcorn and stuffing my face. “He’s more than just a booty call, okay? I like him.”
“A lot,” says McKenna. “You like him a lot.”
“Fine! I like him a lot.”
“You’re all flustered around him, and smiley, and you hang on every word he says, and you go traipsing through the woods with him when you hate nature.”
“I don’t hate—”
“No more bullshit!” McKenna bellows.
“Fine!” I yell again. “I went on a walk in the woods even though I don’t love the woods. I wanted to see his house.”
“And?”
There’s no point in lying. I admit defeat and surrender completely to McKenna’s interrogation methods.
“And…and…and I pictured him making me breakfast,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. “When he said the smaller bedroom was for the baby, I imagined it was mine. Ours. Our baby.” I look up at her, feeling frantic. “Oh my god, Ken, I’m falling for him.”
“There we go,” says McKenna, slow-clapping. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” I wail. “So hard. And so, so, so stupid!”
McKenna reaches for my hands and squeezes them, waiting for me to look up again.
“So,” she asks when I do, “what now?”
I need time. I need more time to figure out what to do.
“Find me a job for the rest of the summer?” I ask.
She squeals, pulling me into a hug and knocking over the popcorn in the process.
Looks like I’m spending my summer in Skagway!