Wild at Heart (Wild, #2)

by K.A. Tucker

He flew here to tell me in person that he’s been miserable these past two months since I left Alaska, that he doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of my father—spending his life pining over my mother—that he wants to find an “us” that will work. That he wants me beside him.

I haven’t given him an answer yet, too afraid to leap. Until now. I feel the word rising inside me—an emotion about to erupt. “Yes!” My pulse pounds in my ears.

“I’ll come back to Alaska.” Because being with Jonah again—laughing and reminiscing, having him in my space, waking in his arms—has only confirmed what I’ve suspected for months: I’m deeply in love with him,

Because being with Jonah again—laughing and reminiscing, having him in my space, waking in his arms—has only confirmed what I’ve suspected for months: I’m deeply in love with him,

His eyes spark with determination. “Come for Christmas.”

“Damn, Calla, you know how to make a guy sweat.”

“I’m not going to chicken out,” I promise. “I’m one hundred percent sure that I—”

“You what?” I love you. Those three words have been on the tip of my tongue since the second I heard his laughter from our porch, and yet I can’t find the nerve to tell him.

because it’s the only way I’ll ever know where this can lead. What would you think about this turn of events, Dad?

It’s been over three months since Wren Fletcher passed away, and I still think of him daily. My chest still aches with each fond memory. My eyes still water when I flip through countless pictures from my time in Alaska this summer. My throat still clogs when I speak his name. To think he was virtually a stranger in July—a man estranged from me since I was fourteen and nothing more than a distant voice over the telephone before that—and yet he has inadvertently shaped a future in Alaska for me. Jonah was like a son to him. He’d be thrilled about this, I’m sure of it.

Ever since I came back from Alaska in September, I’ve noticed his age that much more—the lines marring his forehead and mouth, his wrinkled hands, his sparse, graying hair. He was the only father figure I could turn to for twelve years of my life. Now that I’ve lived through the pain of losing my real father—a man I learned to love again—I’m acutely aware that I’ll have to live through losing Simon one day, too.

“She’ll be fine. I won’t let her mope,” he says, too low for anyone but me to hear. “You do this Alaska thing with Jonah for as long as it makes sense to you, but you’ve always got a place here, if you find you need it, with no questions asked. Well … maybe a few.” He winks.

She wasn’t anywhere near this emotional the last time I left for Alaska. Then again, that was temporary. That was for my father. And for me. This time … I’m moving to Alaska for Jonah. The blunt, abrasive yeti who made my life hell, who I hated only months ago, who I’ve been through so much with since. Now, I’m leaving everything I know behind to be with him.

Call me later.” “’Kay.” I bite my lip against the urge to utter those three little words that I held back at the airport gate a month ago, that I hold back with every phone call, having convinced myself I can’t say them for the first time from thousands of miles away.

“What does Alaska have against me having clothes?” I accept my glass of red wine from the server—a man with unkempt brown hair and a black button-down shirt—with a nod of thanks, my phone pressed to my ear. “You do look pretty good without them,” Jonah says wryly.

Jonah groans. “Jesus. You’re as bad as Wren was.”

And gasp at the scruffy-faced male figure leaning against the wall,

“What are you doing here!” I exclaim, as waves of relief course through my limbs. “Take a wild guess.” Jonah’s gruff voice rattles in my chest. God, I’ve missed hearing it in person.

“Of course, I’m here. As if I was gonna let you get stuck, alone, on Christmas.”

“I love you,” I blurt before I can give it too much thought.

“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to get up the nerve to say it. Especially after you chickened out at the airport.” He brushes an errant strand of hair off my face. “Thought I might have to wait forever.”

“You’re cute when you’re vulnerable.”

“I can’t remember what it feels like not being in love with you, Calla.”

“I can’t remember what it’s like to wake up and not have you be the first thing I think about. Every morning, I roll over in bed to check for a message from you. Every night, I go to bed annoyed because you’re not beside me. Because you’re so far away. I need you in my life like I need to fly. Like I need this Alaskan air. More than I need this air.”

“You were made for me. I am madly in love with you, Calla Fletcher.”

“Do you trust me?”

“but I told you already, Barbie, you’re not gonna be wearin’ any clothes for a few days.”

“The North Pole! Oh my God!” A wave of nostalgia washes over me. I can’t believe I hadn’t clued in already. “My dad always used to tell me he was flying there. I thought it was the coolest thing.” Back when I only knew his face thanks to a picture,

“They’re happy you came to your senses.”

“It’d be nice to have a place like this to escape to.”

“We can have this, too, once we figure things out. Give us a few years to get settled somewhere and then we can look at buying a patch of land somewhere up here and building our own place.” “Like this?” “Maybe a bit bigger.” He pauses a beat. “Big enough for us and twelve kids.”

Let’s look for somethin’ to buy. Somethin’ that’s a hundred percent ours. A smaller house with more land.

“If I’m not inside you in the next three minutes, I’m gonna die.”

“I’ve thought about this moment every minute of every day for the last month.”

“Calla, wake up.” I groan as a hand jostles my shoulder. “Seriously, Calla, you’ve gotta see this.”

The hint of excitement in Jonah’s voice is what has me unfurling myself and peering into the darkness.

All my complaints vanish the second I take in the shimmering green and blue lights that sway and surge and dance in the clear night sky, illuminating the expanse of stars above us and the frozen, snow-covered lake below. “The northern lights!” I exclaim, mesmerized. It’s as if the heavens have come to life.

“This is one of the best places in the world to see them.” He presses his lips against my cheek. “That’s why I wanted to bring you up here.”

But tonight, this is for you and me. It’s our moment.” He rests his chin on my head. “The first night of the rest of our lives.”

“Merry Christmas, Barbie.” I tip my head back to catch his lips with mine. “Merry Christmas, you big, angry yeti.”

“You would have liked Simon,”

“What are we going to do when we’re not living across the road from you anymore, Agnes? How are we going to survive? Does this mean I’ll have to learn to cook?”

“You two will do fine, as long as you remember you’re in this together.”

“You two are a good match for each other. Wren saw it right away.”

“Following Jonah around Alaska while he flies planes won’t be enough. Not for a girl like you, Calla. Loving him won’t be enough. Not forever.”

“Find your place here. Something that’s going to give you—Calla Fletcher—purpose. Something that feels like you.” She nods slowly, as if agreeing with her own answer. “Find that, and then give it your all.”

If I follow my mother’s footsteps from twenty-seven years ago, newly pregnant and disillusioned about what life with a bush pilot in the wilds of Alaska would be like, focused on all that it’s not, I won’t last here, no matter how much Jonah and I love each other.

“You know you left a huge hole in our lives, right?”

“Christ. Would you humor me? For once. Please.”

But the detail on the tail, the minuscule replica of the Alaska Wild logo, is where my attention locks and my emotions swirl. “It’s beautiful.”