Chapter Eleven

Port of Call: Ketchikan, Alaska

The math was not in my favor. Pictures posted, I'd done a search to prepare for today's excursion. Apparently the off-road vehicles traveled at twenty-five or thirty miles per hour.

Bears could top out at thirty-five.

It was like a problem at a beginner Math Bowl competition. If the ATV leaves Point A at noon, and the bear who hasn't eaten in weeks leaves Point B at 12:15, how long until the ATV driver becomes lunch?

Nothing like jumping into the deep end of new things.

The sky was gray and drizzly as the bus took us through town. Mountains and trees quickly replaced buildings, and the guide talked about Ketchikan's history. It had the world's largest collection of totem poles and was considered one of the rainiest cities in America, which explained why everything was so green.

The bus took us to a base camp in the woods, with a single wooden building that resembled a place a prepper might live. I knew where to come in the event of alien invasion or zombie apocalypse. Unless they were zombie bears.

Great. Thanks for that mental image, brain.

Rows of off-road vehicles waited, like a cross between old-fashioned buggies and golf carts, but with heavy-duty tires. Or like something you'd drive on the moon. We exited the bus to a misty sky.

Tanner rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait to drive one of those."

We'd picked this excursion because as long as you were sixteen with a valid license, you were allowed to drive.

I raised my eyebrows.

"What?" he asked. "I'm a good driver."

"I know a trash can that disagrees."

"That was in a golf cart. And I was twelve."

"Not helping your case. Have you ever had a ticket? Or an accident?"

"Does the time I hit a preschool bus count?" he asked.

My head whipped toward him.

He was laughing. "Kidding. Other than the golf cart, I've never caused an accident."

"Caused? Oh, that's right. Last year with the guy at the stop sign." I remembered he'd been worried he would miss the first football game.

"Aw, S'more. I didn't know you cared."

Caring had nothing to do with it. I couldn't escape learning every detail of his life. "My mom was worried for you."

"You can admit you were, too. It was very motivating to make me want to drive safely. The attention was nice, though. I had freshmen guys carrying my stuff and bringing me lunch for two weeks."

"Of course you did. I notice you avoided the question of a ticket."

"Nope. Almost got one for parking in a loading zone, but I came out in time to talk the cop into giving me a warning instead. Good thing you weren't there to report me." He poked my arm. "I don't need to ask about your driving record. I'm sure it's spotless."

We went inside the prepper structure and found benches, rain gear, and a gift shop rather than shelves of ammo, canned beans, and SPAM. After a safety briefing, the staff handed out bright yellow rain suits, gloves, and helmets with clear face plates. I tugged the pants on over my jeans. They were big, with suspenders, and I fumbled with the straps before turning to mydad.

"Can you help?"

But it wasn't my dad standing behind me. It was Tanner.

He stepped right in front of me, reminding me again how tall he was. His hands closed around the straps, wiggling the buckles to shorten my suspenders. His fingers brushed my collarbone, and his breath whispered against my forehead.

I froze. Why wasn't he saying anything? And why was he being so nice?

He wiggled the suspenders gently. "Good?"

I nodded.

He stepped back and watched as I put the jacket on over the pants, struggling with the stiff fabric. His eyes were charcoal, his face solemn, and his attention was making me forget how to use my fingers.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm debating."

My stomach squirmed. "Debating what?"

"Whether the outfits are unsexy enough that I shouldn't take your picture, or whether they show we're about to do something hard-core enough that the rain suit is needed, and therefore the sheer awesomeness makes up for the ugliness. Of the outfits. Not you."

Why had he added that? So casually, like complimenting me came naturally. Well, not complimenting, exactly. But not insulting, either.

"It's the second," he announced as he lifted his phone. "Smile."

I posed, hands on my hips to show off the rain outfit, and he took a picture, and then we went outside, where he took another, this time of the two of us next to a car. We weren't standing particularly close, no touching shoulders or anything, but weird energy bounded around in my stomach.

Each vehicle seated two people. I had planned to go with my dad but for some reason, Tanner stayed by my side. My dad raised his eyebrows. I shrugged, and he flashed me a thumbs-up and joined Mr. Woods.

"Why don't bears eat fast food?" Mr. Woods asked. "Because they can't catch it."

"I have one," my dad said. "What does a bear call a driver who runs out of gas? ATV dinner."

That one made Tanner snort, but most of my attention was on the vehicles, not the bad jokes.

"I want to drive first," I said.

Tanner spun toward me. "Really? What about not liking ladies first ?"

"Only applies when the lady isn't volunteering. Or you could, you know, go with your dad."

It sounded better to be the one in control than to be at Tanner's mercy, no matter what claims he made about his driving history.

"Not getting rid of me that easily, S'more. I'll take a video while we're cruising through the backwoods of Alaska."

"I'm pretty sure there's a path."

"Nope, I'm certain we're making our own trail where no one has ever been before."

"Oh, you know what, you're right. I did see that in the description. In two hours, with cars full of small children, we're going to become true pioneers. Hope you brought a machete."

"Sadly, Canada wouldn't let me bring it through customs."

"Stupid Canada."

It was nice to have someone who caught my sarcasm. Caleb would have taken me seriously and double-checked the tour description.

We climbed into a vehicle near the back of the line, and I fiddled with the fancy seatbelt harness that made me imagine I was traveling to space. One by one the buggies pulled away, falling into line. I started the engine.

When it was our turn, I pushed the gas pedal. We didn't move.

"Are you caressing it?" Tanner asked. "Stomp that sucker."

I pressed harder, and we lurched forward. My stomach remained behind. I immediately removed my foot, and we jolted to a stop.

It happened two more times.

I hoped Alaska had good health care, because I was going to give us whiplash.

"Savannah." Tanner turned my name into a sigh, and hearing him say my full name was odd. "I would like to see more of Alaska than this parking lot. And the people behind us are about to get road rage."

"All right, all right."

I pressed the gas again, and when we hurtled forward, I kept my foot down despite my brain screaming at me to stop.

The buggy bumped across the dirt lot. Ahead of us, the other vehicles were nearly out of sight. My heart was racing, but I made myself keep up. The ride was rough, the giant tires carrying us over every dip and rock. The trail led through a treed area, nothing but forest on either side.

When we reached the first curve, I slowed again. The other carts were still way ahead.

"I'm trying to restrain myself from getting out to run beside you to show you just how slow we're going," Tanner said.

"Please do. This would be better without you stressing meout."

"I'm stressing you out?"

"The entire situation is stressing me out."

He shifted. "Look, S'more, they let kids in these. They use this path every single day. The cars are built for this. I know it's bumpy, but think of that as part of the fun."

His words—in a calm, reasonable, sympathetic tone—were surprisingly comforting.

"And then imagine Caveman standing in front of us, breaking up with you in public, and hit that gas pedal like you mean it." His playful voice had returned.

A laugh erupted before I could stop it.

I didn't want to run over Caleb. I wanted to go back to a time when we were together and comfortable and happy. But Tanner's support made me push the pedal harder. We zoomed forward on a straightaway.

A giant puddle appeared before I could swerve around it. We splashed through it, splattering our faceplates with mud.

"Woohoo!" Tanner yelled.

A small thrill raced through me.

I kept up our speed until we caught the other buggies, in time to slow for a series of sharp curves. Not slow enough, but I kept pace with the car in front of us, anyway, even though I felt like we were seconds away from tipping over or dislocating every bone in my backside.

When the cars pulled into a clearing, I stopped. My hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel, I didn't know if I could pry them off.

"See, we survived. Was that so bad?" Tanner reached over and peeled my fingers up one by one. "You even looked like you were having fun."

He showed me his phone. The image of my face, just visible inside the helmet, looked more like I was having a panic attack than the time of my life.

But…I supposed it had been enjoyable. Despite the worry that I would lose control and send us careening down a hillside or face-first into a tree. Adrenaline surged through me, and I felt powerful, like a shot of super-soldier serum was coursing through my veins.

Tanner jumped out, removed his helmet, and fluffed his hair. I followed, my legs shaking when I stood, arms trembling as I set my helmet on the seat.

We joined the group standing at the edge of a clearing. The overlook offered a sprawling view—a rainforest-covered hillside, leading down to a deep blue lake dotted with hilly green islands. Peeks of blue sky were visible in the clouds. Scattered sprinkles hit my face.

The high of a thrill was seeping out of me, replaced by a sense of awe and peace.

Dad came up beside me. "Okay?"

"Yeah." I actually was.

The guide gave us more history, describing how the town first grew around gold, silver, and copper mines before that waned and fishing took over. It sounded so Wild West, and the lack of people out here made the past feel much closer.

Tanner stood unnaturally still, his gaze on the view, but his head cocked. He didn't meet my eye or smirk or make a joke. Interesting.

As soon as the guide said it was time to move on and we could switch drivers, Tanner's mischievous smile emerged.

"My turn." He bounded toward the buggy.

I was doomed.

Tanner had no love-hate relationship with the gas pedal, like I did. With him, it was nothing but love. He was as close to the bumper in front of us as he was to me. If there had been room on the trail, I had no doubt he would have raced past everyone.

Whether it was the trail or Tanner's driving, the car felt bumpier in the passenger seat. Likely because he intentionally steered us into every hole. I gripped the handle above me on the roll bar. Which, why did they name it that? How often did these roll over?

With driving like this, fairly often, probably.

I refused to give Tanner the satisfaction of asking him to slow down.

When he did, I was surprised. He let a gap form between us and the cars ahead. I was about to ask why when a lurch shoved the words back down my throat.

That was why—because he'd needed room to see if he could break the speedometer. With him driving, we might outrun a bear.

Trees whooshed past, and glimpses of rolling hills were a blur of green. I was bouncing in the seat, and I was surprised that with his height, his head wasn't hitting the ceiling.

"The last time we rode together, you threatened to jump out of a moving vehicle," he said. "Are we trying that here?"

"I do have a helmet this time. I'll think about it."

He laughed.

The guide made another stop, this time at a towering waterfall that formed a bright splash of white against brilliant green trees. He talked about the species found in the rainforest, and Tanner wandered around inspecting plants. Apparently he'd learned enough for today.

The same uncanny sensation hit me that I'd had in the Inside Passage, of being surrounded by so much nature. The little cars weren't as reassuring as the ship, but at least we were with a group.

"Want to race on the way back?" Tanner asked me.

"No," said Mr. Woods.

"Guess we'll never know who would have won," I said.

"Oh, we know."

"Do we, though?"

I surprised us both by letting him drive again. He was enjoying it more it than I was, so it seemed fair.

I didn't hate it once I got used to the rattling and the dirt and mud spraying my face and the way my stomach kept jumping into my throat. I accepted we were unlikely to tip, and Tanner's speed was restrained by the rest of the group. I even took a few pictures.

Once I got over the out-of-control feeling, the open air, without a car surrounding me, was sort of thrilling.

"Come on, yell," Tanner said.

"What?"

"Whoooo! Like that."

"Woo," I said half-heartedly.

"Let it out, S'more. On three. One. Two. Three. Whoooo! Hey, you didn't say it."

I laughed and he did, too.

When we reached the prepper hut, Tanner gave me a high five. "Wasn't that better than walking around town and eating salmon?"

"Well, the salmon part, anyway."

He reached out and wiped mud off my chin where it had splattered beneath the faceplate. My suit was covered, too.

His eyes glinted, and he hesitated with his muddy fingers over my cheek like he intended to smear them.

"Don't you dare." I meant to sound tough, but my smile ruined any threat.

His lips quirked up, and our laughing eyes locked. We were frozen, his muddy fingers hovering inches from my face, and my insides felt like gravity had vanished and I might float away.