8. Elsa
Chapter Eight
Elsa
“I wasn’t going to rent these rooms,” Haven said, eyeing me steadily. “They’re going to be for staff we eventually hire.”
“Well, then give me something to do,” I insisted.
“Like what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Something.”
He let out a short breath, something close to amusement flickering in his expression. “Let me think about it. You can move in whenever you need to.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Haven looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. Something else flickered in the depths of his blue eyes, like the ocean right before a storm when lightning rippled across the sky.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” I felt pressed to ask again.
His lips kicked up at one corner, just slightly. “Of course, it’s okay.”
I shifted on my feet, feeling antsy and nervous. “I need to pay something,” I pressed.
Haven’s brows hitched up. “I already said that wasn’t necessary, Elsa.”
“I know, but either let me pay or give me something to do. To earn my keep.”
“We need staff more than we need money. Honestly, we’ve been running ourselves ragged trying to get this place ready to run again.”
A long pause settled between us. My thoughts spun to Bree. I was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that she died. They had seemed like a happy family. Bree had always been nice to me, back when I felt so awkward and out of place in a world my father viewed with deep suspicion.
“I bet it was tough to even get to the point of rebuilding,” I said softly.
Haven’s sharp features softened. “It was.” A beat of silence followed. “It is ,” he added. “We really need to be open, like yesterday or maybe a year ago. But we have to meet code and all that. I knew once we started, it would be hard to finish if we tried to open before we were ready.”
“Makes sense.”
“What have you been doing for income during all this?” I asked.
“Well, we’re all firefighters and pilots. So that’s what we’ve been doing. While I have that law degree, I don’t love the work, but here and there, I handle small things.” He hesitated for a second, then asked, “Do you remember Nate?”
“Nate Fox,” I said. “I ran into him with Holly the other night.”
Haven smiled a little. “That’s the one.”
“He does contract work for the firefighting teams, and we fly the smokejumper planes with him. Sometimes we work the fires ourselves.”
“Is that hard after the fire here?” I internally flinched at my own question. That was me, queen of the obvious and awkward questions.
Haven tipped his head to the side, quiet for a few beats.
Long enough that I worried I shouldn’t have asked.
Yet he didn’t seem bothered by it. “Fires are getting worse everywhere out West. Summers are hotter and drier. Alaska’s no exception.
” He exhaled, his shoulders stiffening slightly.
“Obviously, the fire here was awful, but that’s not the hard part if that makes any sense. ”
It made sense and was something I understood deeply. My father’s sad and needless death was painful, but it was separate from me in some ways. Like the fire itself wasn’t what hurt Haven, but the loss of his sister.
Strangely, I felt a sense of relief around it. Not relief that others had experienced hardship and loss—never that—but relief in knowing I wasn’t alone . That was the flip side of loss.
It was like walking through fire and coming out the other side. You weren’t unscathed, but you learned what you could live through. It was a mixed blessing.
“I understand,” I murmured.
At that moment, I felt something invisible stitch between us, a fragile thread of understanding.
“How about this?” Haven suggested. “You go ahead and move in.”
I didn’t mind the abrupt shift in conversation.
I knew well the awkwardness of covering the ground of a loss and the need to move on quickly.
If you got caught in it, it was like walking through quicksand.
Not that I’d ever walked through quicksand.
In hindsight, that fell on the list of childhood fears that seemed ridiculously overblown.
To deal with loss, you had to keep moving, or you ran the risk of getting mired in it.
That’s not to say you avoided it, but a part of grief was learning to live with it.
You incorporated the loss in your heart and carried on.
My mind nudged on track as Haven continued, “And we’ll figure out some things for you to do around here. There’s more than enough to choose from.”
I felt uncertain about this plan, but I also needed a place to stay.
I didn’t have any income yet. I didn’t know why I was being stubborn about it, but I hated asking for help.
I knew from my time in therapy after my dad died that my reticence about asking for help was a response to a tragic loss.
Or, for me, it was. I carried a deep-seated need to never need anyone.
Because if I didn’t need anyone, it wouldn’t hurt when they were gone. If I didn’t need anyone, I could solve everything myself. If I didn’t need anyone, I couldn’t get hurt again.
“Elsa?” he prompted.
I’d gotten derailed in my thoughts. Again. I had no idea how long this pause had stretched. “Okay,” I finally said.
Haven looked down at me, and his quiet chuckle sent a subtle vibration through my body. “Okay then.”
I bit the corner of my lip. When his eyes darkened, I convinced myself that it was a fluke. “I really appreciate this.”
I’d have to figure out how to deal with my inconvenient reaction to him. It would pass. It had to pass. Relationships weren’t for me. I couldn’t even ponder why I was contemplating relationships with Haven standing here. Much less chemistry, attraction, and all the messy things that came with them.
“Elsa?” Haven prompted.
I blinked up at him. “Uh-huh?”
“When would you like to move in?”
“As soon as I can?” My voice lilted slightly in question.
“Whatever works for you. It’s available.”
“Is tonight too soon?”
“It’s not.”
I nearly bounced on my feet, resisting the urge to fling my arms around him in gratitude.
I just wanted a place to be . Coming back to Willow Brook had been a scramble.
I had job options, but there was the whole matter of finding an actual job.
I still didn’t fully understand why I felt the need to build something where the old house was, but I did.
Maybe because I didn’t want it to feel marred by what we lost. If I built something new there, maybe that would change things.
I was drifting away in my thoughts again when Haven dragged me back.
“Elsa?”
“I’m here,” I said quickly, as if marking myself in attendance.
A smile teased the corners of his lips, and my belly shimmied in response.
“You are. We don’t lock up, so here’s the deal,” Haven said. “I have to get back to work, and I don’t know how much stuff you have. You can move in anytime. The bathroom is across the hall. You’re welcome to use the fridge, and you’re always welcome to eat with us over at the main resort.”
“Oh, that’s too much,” I said quickly.
“My mom will be offended if you don’t,” Haven countered. “Feeding people makes her heart happy, and she’ll want to mother-hen you.”
“Mother-hen me?”
“Fuss over you. Make sure you feel settled. Make sure you feel welcome. All that.” He circled his hand in the air, affection flickering in his eyes. I loved that it was so clear he loved his mom.
He turned, heading for the door, and I trailed him.
After the fire, this would’ve been a cramped space for their whole family.
But for me? It felt nice. Cozy. Almost like home.
Which didn’t make a lick of sense. I’d never lived here.
Yet somehow, it felt like it was calling me back.
This little pocket of Alaska called me back.
As we approached my car, someone stepped out of the main entrance of the resort.
“There you are,” the man said.
I knew he had to be one of the brothers because he looked an awful lot like Haven. When he saw me, his brows hitched up, curiosity swirling in his gaze. He stopped in front of us, assessing me for a moment before Haven spoke. “You remember Elsa?”
The man studied me for a second longer before nodding.
“I used to live next door,” I offered, trying to remember which of the brothers this was. They looked a lot alike, all dark hair and silver-blue eyes.
Haven tipped his head toward him. “Jude.”
Jude arched a brow, then rocked back on his heels. “One of the younger brothers,” he said dryly. His light tone was teasing. “And you lived next door.” Jude nodded as if to himself. “Tommy told us the goats greeted you.”
A laugh rumbled in my throat. “They did.”
Haven glanced at me. “She’s going to stay in the staff area. In the barn.”
“Good plan.” Jude crossed his arms, eyeing me. “Are you going to work? Because we could use all the help we can get.”
I burst out laughing. “I told Haven I wanted to do something. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m happy to help.”
“Do you paint?” Jude asked.
“I do. Do you need some painting done?”
“Yes,” Jude said instantly. “We have four rooms that need to be painted. In the next four days.”
“Tell me where, and I’ll take care of it,” I said, relieved to have something useful to offer.
Haven narrowed his eyes at Jude. “Elsa might have a job,” he pointed out. “That’s not here. I haven’t had a chance to ask her about that.”
“Well, that’s the plan, but I don’t have one yet,” I admitted.
Jude tipped his head to the side. “What do you do?”
“I’m a biologist.”
“Oh. Cool.” Jude nodded. “What kind of biologist?”
I grinned. “My specialty is whales.”
Jude blinked. “Your specialty is whales?”
“I monitor their migration routes, their breeding…” I waved my hand vaguely. “All that.”
“Oh, huh,” Haven said.
“Super cool,” Jude teased, nudging him with his elbow.
“Whales are amazing,” I said.
“They scare me. They’re freaking huge.” Jude shuddered.
“They are big,” I agreed. “And Alaska’s a great location to monitor them.”
“I bet you can get a job with the state,” Haven suggested.
“That’s my hope.” I nodded. “I’ve put in a few applications.” I lifted my hand and literally crossed my fingers. “Fingers crossed.”
“Well, good to have you,” Jude said. “And honestly, you don’t have to paint. I was just, you know…” He shrugged.
“I don’t mind painting. I actually like it. It’s something I can do, and it has a meditative quality to it, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. You don’t have to think too hard about it,” Haven said.
“Are you going to eat with us tonight?” Jude asked.
When I hesitated, Haven cut in smoothly, “I just told her Mom would take offense if she didn’t,” he said. “Do you know what she’s making tonight?” His gaze shifted to Jude.
“Spaghetti casserole,” Jude said immediately. “Because that’s what Tommy requested.”
“Well, whatever Tommy asks for, he gets,” Haven said dryly.
“I bet your mom takes requests from everybody,” I said, smiling. Maggie seemed like the kind of person who would be like that.
“Oh, she does,” Haven confirmed. “But Tommy usually gets first dibs. Fortunately, he has good taste, although it’s a little repetitive.”
I giggled. “I think most kids are probably a little repetitive when it comes to food. They like what they like.”
“True story,” Jude said dryly.
Haven glanced at his brother. “Did you need something from me?”
“I did,” Jude said, snapping his fingers. “I need help mounting that last bathroom cabinet, and I can’t do it with two hands, so…”
Haven clapped him on the shoulder. “Between us, we have four hands.”
Jude rolled his eyes and started toward the resort.
Haven glanced back at me. “You can come in now, or…?”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll go get my stuff and then come back. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” Haven nodded. “Catch you later. You can park wherever you want, and you don’t need a key. You don’t have to check in with us or anything. Just go put your stuff away.” He hesitated. “But do let me know if you’ll be there for dinner.”
“Our mom is definitely going to ask,” Jude added.
I smiled. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Haven said, turning and walking again.
I hesitated for a beat. “Haven?”
He glanced over his shoulder, one brow arching up.
“Thank you,” I said simply.
His expression softened, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he nodded.
“Anytime.”