23. Jami
Jami
“Hi ho, hi ho, back to reality I go,” I sing with far less enthusiasm than the tune deserves, tugging my hat down and reaching for my now dry fur lined boots.
Behind me, Brody snaps the cooler shut and carries it to the door. “You don’t like your reality?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
I pause, tapping my chin as I drop into a chair and slide my feet into my boots. “Actually,” I say slowly, honestly. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
My gaze drifts around the cottage. Clean. Quiet. No fire casting lazy shadows on the walls. No abandoned wine glasses on the coffee table. No naked man in a single bed, smirking as he waits for me to slide in beside him.
“But,” I add, already missing this place. “I kind of like this fantasy one a little better.”
Brody doesn’t hesitate. “We can come back next weekend.”
I shake my head, even though I love the idea. “No. I can’t keep you away from pickleball practice. My brother would kill me, and of course he’d start to get suspicious.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “I guess we’ll just have to find other ways to slip back into this reality.”
I nod, even as something tightens in my chest. Because I want that. Want it too much. And my brother—God, my brother—would be crushed if he knew what we’ve been doing. What we’re still doing. This is wrong.
“Maybe,” I blurt, trying to sound practical instead of desperate. “If I did get my own place.”
The words hang there, completely at odds with the mental lecture I just gave myself.
Brody’s eyebrows lift, amused and pleased all at once. “That would work,” he says. “Although I do love having you in the room next to mine.”
I groan. “My brother can’t keep sleeping on the couch.”
“True enough.”
I jump up, pushing the chair back into place, wanting to leave the cottage the same way I found it, but with naughtier memories. “Is your mother going to be upset that we’re not having dinner at her place tonight?”
“Who says we’re not?”
I blink. “I guess I just assumed—”
“Oh no,” he says, pointing at me with mock seriousness. “You can’t assume anything. We’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“But I’m so tired.”
He grins. “Doesn’t matter, Little Birdie. There are rules. And not even you are above them.”
I can’t help it, I grin back, warmth spreading through me at the simple truth beneath the teasing. I belong. At least a little.
“Okay then,” I say, grabbing my bag. “Let’s get back. Maybe I can squeeze in a short nap before we go.”
“Please don’t talk about naps,” he growls, hauling the cooler outside and setting it down with more force than necessary.
I trail after him, overnight bag slung over my shoulder. “Why not?”
His eyes darken, heat brewing just below the surface. “Because when we get back, I’m going to be pissed that I can’t take one with you.”
I grin, loving the way this man wants me. Physically, I mean, of course. He loads the cooler into the truck and I jump into the passenger seat. He fires up the engine to warm it, and me, before hopping back out again.
“Stay put,” he says, already halfway back to the cottage. “I’ll grab my bag and do one last check.”
I watch him through the windshield as he moves through the snow, his body made for this kind of winter.
Much like on the pickleball court, or in anything he does, his movements are confident, unhurried, completely at ease.
My heart does a stupid little tumble in my chest. Honestly, how could Elise not have seen what she had in him?
The thought knots my stomach. Because maybe she did see it. Maybe she just didn’t appreciate it until it was gone. And now she’s back, wanting to fix her mistake.
Brody did say she was a city girl. Said she’d hated the quiet, the cold, the isolation of this place. Even if they did get back together, how could it work? There’s no way he’d give up what he’s built here to follow her back to the city, right?
The door opens and a rush of cold air floods the cab as he climbs in, his cheeks pink from the chill. He flashes me a smile and I once again forget how to breathe. “All set?” His eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”
“Just…it was fun.” I gesture out the window and work to pull myself together. Now is not the time to be getting all emotional. “Maybe we’ll see some more caribou.” That’s when it hits me, and I whack his arm.
“Hey,” he mock-grumbles, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”
“You forgot to show me your moves.”
His mouth quirks. “I’m pretty sure I showed you my moves, Jami. In fact, I brought my A-game.”
Heat blooms low in my belly at the memory. I chuckle. “No. Your caribou moves.”
He laughs as he backs out of the driveway. “Right. Those.”
“Tonight,” I say, pointing at him. “At your mother’s. I want to see your caribou moves.”
“I am not doing that in front of everyone,” he says firmly, then gives me a wicked wink. “Those moves are for you only.”
“Come on,” I coax. “I bet the kids will do them with you.” Honestly, I’m dying to see his interpretation of a running caribou.
He glances at me, eyes curious. “Will you?”
I shrug, trying for casual. “Sure. Once you teach me.” I laugh. “Hey, when in Rome…”
He chuckles, shaking his head, then there’s a new seriousness about him. “You know, Jami, I really like how you’re embracing the culture here.”
I sink back into my seat, surprised by how much that means to me. I came here fully expecting to hate everything—cold, small-town, Newfoundland traditions and all. I had zero intention of embracing any of it.
Yet here I am.
You go, girl.
Maybe it will be a little harder to go back to the mainland.
“Have you ever seen a dog sled?”
“Of course.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“Instead of seeing that, you can participate in it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, in Lab City, there’s a company that gives guided tours.”
I sink into my seat and stifle a yawn. “Wow, that would be so much fun.”
“I can arrange it, and while we’re there—”
“No, I am not kissing a cod,” I shoot back and fold my arms like a petulant child.
Snow crunches beneath the tires as he eases the truck forward. “Oh, I think you are.”
My gaze jerks to his to find him grinning like he knows something I don’t. “I absolutely am not—”
The whir of a helicopter overhead cuts me off. I tip my head back and point skyward. “It’s Frank.”
“Yup,” Brody says easily. “That’s Frank.”
But then his expression changes. The easy grin fades, replaced by a crease between his brows that reminds me of the medical chopper we heard yesterday. In a town this small, Brody knows everyone—every family, every story—so any sign of trouble is obviously worrisome for him.
“Do you think they’re tracking a herd?” I ask as the helicopter loops back around.
He slows the truck. Comes to a full stop right in the middle of the road.
“What?” I ask, heart picking up speed.
“Look,” he says.
I follow his gaze, and my breath leaves me in a rush. I grab his arm without thinking. “Oh my God, Brody.”
Just beyond the tree line, lumbering through the snow-dusted clearing, is a massive black bear, and tucked close to her side, wobbling and wide-eyed, is her baby.
“Mama and her cub,” he says.
I can’t look away. It’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “I’ve never seen a bear in the wild before. How old would her baby be?”
“They’re born in the winter den,” he explains. “They usually emerge late April or early May. He taps the steering wheel and leans into it. “That little one’s only four or five months old.”
“It looks like a small dog,” I whisper, awed. “I never knew they could be that small. For some reason I thought they’d be bigger than that when first born.”
“Nope. Tiny. That little one is learning survival skills from its ma. Probably transitioning from nursing to solid food.”
A shiver runs through me—not from the cold. “I’m really glad we didn’t run into them on the snowmobile yesterday. I know mama bears are fierce when protecting her baby, and I wouldn’t want to be part of that cub’s transition.”
He chuckles under his breath and laces his fingers with mine. “I would’ve kept you safe.”
I nod, because I believe him. Completely. With him, I don’t just feel safe. I am safe.
The helicopter dips lower, its noise finally startling the bears. The mother ushers her cub back into the trees, dark shapes swallowed by the forest. Once they’re gone, Brody gently taps the gas and the truck rolls forward again.
After a beat, he glances at me. “Did you know the mother bear basically feeds her baby while she’s mostly asleep?”
I blink. “I did not know that.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Mama lives off her fat reserves. The milk’s super rich, loaded with fat and nutrients. Keeps the cubs growing even when she’s conserving energy.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “How do you know so much about bears?”
“From living here. We’re in their territory, so we learn about them, for their protection and for ours.”
“I’d never want to see one hurt.”
The helicopter’s distant thrum fades into the sky, and Brody glances up through the windshield. “They’re probably heading off to fly over the falls.”
“Churchill Falls?” I perk up as he nods. “Can you tell me more about that?”
He gives me a sideways look, clearly suspicious. “You actually want to hear?”
“Yeah,” I say, surprised by my own eagerness. “I really do. How does it all work? All I know is they supply electricity to Quebec.”
“Okay,” he says, settling into explanation mode.
I sit up a little straighter, attentive, and maybe a little too aware of how much I like listening to him talk.
“The generating station uses the Churchill River’s waterfall to create power.
The water’s diverted through massive tunnels to an underground powerhouse. ”
“I heard someone say it’s like a thousand feet underground.”
“It is. It’s as tall as a fifteen-story building and as long as three football fields. All carved straight out of solid granite.”
My eyes widen. “That’s incredible.”
“You get down by elevator.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That’s one heck of an elevator ride. I was hoping for a slide or something.”
He laughs, low and warm. “The underground turbines harness the water’s force and convert that mechanical energy into electricity. It’s actually really cool, Jami. You should do the tour.”
“You’ve done it?”
“School tour. Grade seven.”
“Wow, that was a long time ago,” I tease, emphasizing our age difference.
“How old do you think I am?” he shoots back laughing
“Are you interested in doing it again? I mean it was forever ago…” He gives me a warning look. “You probably forgot everything.”
“I remember everything,” he assures me and then he frowns slightly, brow bunching. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“All the people at the social,” I say, shaking my head, unable to hold back a smile. “I think I’m going to have to straighten them out.”
One eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah? On what?”
“Honestly, Brody, you’re more than just a picklehead and a pretty face.”
He laughs and squeezes my hand. “Do you want to hear more or not?”
“I do.”
He continues, talking about the history of the station as we wind down the narrow road toward town. I listen closely, absorbing every word, until the quiet is broken by the sharp ping of my phone.
Then another.
And another.
Brody’s phone starts chiming too.
“What the heck?” he mutters.
I dig my phone out of my bag, swipe the screen, and skim the first of what feels like too many messages.
My stomach drops.
I lift my head at the exact same moment Brody does.
When I see the worry etched across his face, I whisper, “Oh, God… no.”