March, 2028
Dear Hailey:
Happy late Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry you had to work and you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. You asked for something funny, but my life is anything but right now. So how about a joke?
How do vampires know if they had a successful Valentine’s Day?
Try to answer.
Don’t look yet.
Try again.
Ok, now read the answer.
If it’s love at first bite.
I hope it made you laugh, even if just a little bit.
I’m so sorry you hate work. Nobody should be tied down doing something for hours every day that they don’t love.
Because then, you’re basically working twice: once for the actual grind and again to fake a smile that says, “Yeah, this is totally fine and not soul-crushing at all.” Maybe there’s another department you could slide into?
Or maybe you’ve got some hidden talent you can freelance?
I’d give you more solid advice, but the only thing I did before this was sling fries and mop floors at a fast-food joint, which, trust me, was far less heroic than what I do now.
Being an AST is a whole different world.
I love it. I mean, where else do you get paid to jump out of helicopters into freezing water, drag people back from the edge of disaster, and then still have time to hit the gym afterward?
It’s like James Bond meets Baywatch, minus the slow-motion hair flips.
(Did that make you smile? I hope it did, because I worked hard to come up with that line).
But it’s not just about the thrill. I love the brotherhood, the purpose, the fact that when things get rough, I’m the one who gets to step up.
My life growing up was sad and hard. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and maybe one day, I’ll tell you all about it.
I felt useless most of the time. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well not even come home.
So, I learned to be the best at everything.
Grades, sports, cleaning my room, doing chores, staying quiet, all of it.
I was so good at the latter, most of the time, they didn’t even know if I was right there in front of them.
It didn’t matter that I graduated with honors or that I was captain of several teams, including swimming.
It was never celebrated. But here, in this place, I am. Here, I’m valued. Here, I matter.
When that call comes in, it’s not about clocking hours—it’s about someone’s life depending on me, and that makes every swim, every lift, every grueling workout worth it.
And yeah, it’s tough, but it’s the good kind of tough that makes you proud to collapse into bed knowing you did something that actually mattered.
This job made me realize the love I chased for so long from my parents wasn’t really needed. It’s not love I need to thrive; it’s appreciation, and here I am, appreciated. Are you appreciated at work? Maybe go somewhere where you are, and the load will feel less heavy?
The problem with that is I find myself working more than I’m needed, always chasing the validation I’m given. It’s like a drug, Hales, and I’m addicted. It definitely doesn’t give me time for much, but it fuels my soul in a way nothing ever has before.
Well, this turned sad, didn’t it? How about another joke?
What’s a race that is never run?
Think about it.
Don’t look.
Think about it.
Ok, now.
A swimming race.
Funny? Maybe not, but my dad wasn’t one for dad jokes, so I had to learn them myself.
It’s about to be busy season. The closer it gets to warmer weather, the more tourists come and the more we have to go rescue them. So, if you don’t hear from me frequently, that’s why.
I was also thinking about sharing something special with you, more than what I’ve already shared, that is. I don’t usually talk to people about anything important, and I just gave you my whole life story within these pages. I hope you don’t sell them for profit or anything one day when I’m a hero.
If I share more secrets with you, can you keep them safe? Can you be my treasure chest, Hailey?
I’m going to assume your answer is yes and tell you anyway.
I only wear fuzzy socks. I don’t like the texture of the rest of them. Another point for loving Alaska—my feet aren’t sweating when I’m wearing miniature sweaters on them.
With kindness,
Ash