Chapter 8

Flynn didn’t mind a good kiss from a handsome guy, but hello—wrong guy, wrong girl. And sure, she felt the desperation behind it, but—“Hey!” She slammed her hand into his chest, pushed hard.

She’d count him as handsome, with long golden-brown hair, a bit of scruff on his tanned face, pale blue eyes, and built like any of the Alaskan men that suddenly crowded her life.

But yeah, this might be too crowded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Even as she stared at him, however—at the confusion on his face, the hurt that swept into his eyes, the way he startled at Axel, who’d taken a step toward her—it clicked.

Kennedy.

He knew her sister.

She just blinked at him, breathing hard, and thankfully Axel came to the rescue.

“Sully! What are you doing? This is Flynn Turnquist.” He now had himself planted in front of her, a wall of red, literally, and well, it was sort of . . . sweet.

Even if unnecessary. She could usually—minus the knee brace—take care of herself.

“No, it’s not. That’s Kennedy. Wait. What?” Sully took another breath, wrapped both hands behind his neck, turned as if trying to walk off whatever stirred inside him.

“This is Flynn, Kennedy’s sister,” Axel said. “But more important, how do you know Kennedy?”

Sully rounded, clearly undone. Stared at Flynn. Shook his head. “She . . . she looks exactly like Kennedy. Except for the—” He pointed at his head, the location of the wound on her forehead. “Although, yeah, even that. That’s—you’re definitely Kennedy. What’s going on, babe?”

He took a step toward her.

Axel held up his hand. “We’re not prankin’ you here, Sul. Seriously. This is Kennedy’s twin sister. Identical twin sister.”

Sully stopped. Swallowed. “She did mention a sister.” He blew out a breath. “But she didn’t say twin.”

“Sorry,” Flynn said, and added a softness to her voice. Clearly this man was distraught.

And a witness. Possibly the last person to see her sister alive. Clearly very much alive because something, ahem, had gone down between Mr. Outdoors and Kennedy, the free spirit.

They were probably perfect for each other.

“Listen.” She stepped, or rather limped, past Axel. “Can we talk?”

Because at the moment, they had the arrested attention of the entire party, including Moose and London as well as Laramie and his dad, plus a handful of other fishermen.

“In private?”

Sully nodded, but she turned to Axel. “Except for you.”

“I wasn’t leaving even if you asked nicely.” He glanced at Moose. “Give us a few minutes.”

“I want to check out Laramie anyway,” London said and went back to the chopper to retrieve a med kit.

Flynn still couldn’t believe what she’d witnessed up there. Axel, dangling from a line no bigger than her pinkie finger, a hook on a line. And he’d brought up a scared kid like he might be Superman.

Okay, that felt dramatic, but still, seeing him at work, she got it.

A full breath.

Sort of like how she’d felt when she put the 1039 Killer and so many others under arrest.

A small piece of justice won, another light against the darkness.

And for him, maybe another soul brought back from the brink.

She slid her hand into Axel’s, feigning a need for help as they walked away from the group to the other side of the chopper, then down the riverbank.

Sully stopped, his gaze falling, then bouncing off their hooked hands.

She let Axel go and found her way to a boulder. “Did I hurt you?”

Sully frowned. “No. Uh . . . did I hurt you?”

She smiled. “No. I can see why my sister liked you.”

He smiled.

Axel didn’t. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

“But Kennedy isn’t me, okay? Are we clear?”

Sully nodded. Glanced at Axel. “Sorry, man.”

Axel held up a hand, shook his head. “Listen . . . uh . . .”

She didn’t need any crazy, mispurposed showdown here. “Sully. How do you know my sister?”

He drew in a breath. “Okay, for the record, I don’t know where she is.”

“That was pretty clear,” Axel growled.

“Right. Okay, so . . . uh, she showed up at the Bowie cabin about . . . three years ago, I guess. In May, right after fishing season started. She was wounded . . . shot, actually, across the shoulder. I think she must have gotten lost—I don’t know where she came from. But she wouldn’t let me take her into Copper Mountain. She said someone was stalking her and had found her. She was really scared, and?—”

He looked at Axel. “Believe me, I wanted to take her in, but I didn’t want to leave her either. She was . . . she had a mind of her own, and her wound wasn’t deep. Only needed some stitches. I did it myself.”

“Oh, that makes us all feel better,” Axel said.

“Hey. I’m really good with knots, thank you.”

“Did she say who was stalking her?” Flynn asked. Down, Axel.

“No.”

“But it’s the same person who shot her?”

“Maybe. Probably. She didn’t say.”

“What happened then?” Flynn folded her arms, gave him a hard look.

Sully looked away, down to the ground, back to her, and met her eyes. “She stayed.”

Silence.

“She stayed?” Axel said.

Thank you. She actually appreciated his tone this time.

“Listen. We . . . the fishing camp has many rooms. And she was a guest of the Bowie Outpost. It was . . . Okay, so yes, we might have had a spark. But . . . it wasn’t . . . Okay, listen. She wanted to stay. And—” He swallowed, and to Flynn’s eye, it looked like his eyes glistened. “Fine. I asked her to marry me.”

Oh.

“That’s why you stayed at the lodge that winter,” Axel said quietly. “I remember Hudson and Mal talking about it. You didn’t come in for an entire year.”

“They brought supplies out to me.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Flynn said. “While I was home, crushed at the disappearance of my sister, she was holed up with you? Playing house?”

“I didn’t know she was officially missing. She said she came out to Alaska on purpose, and yeah, she mentioned family, but people come out here all the time to leave their past behind. It didn’t occur to me to ask Deke if she was on the missing persons list.”

Flynn folded her arms. Looked away.

“We did a lot of fishing. And hunting, and I taught her how to make beef jerky and dried fish, and we had a garden, and . . . we played a lot of Scrabble. And Aggravation on my grandfather’s old wooden marble board.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I loved Kennedy. Still do.”

“What happened, Sully?” Axel said, glancing over at Flynn.

She saw it but turned her gaze back to Sully, trying to decide if he was the kind of guy to keep a woman captive for a month, or even a year.

Probably not.

And by the kiss, yeah, he’d loved her.

“I don’t know. It was fishing season again, and I started getting groups in. I’d have to go to Copper Mountain to get them, and she’d stay behind and make dinner or, you know, work on her jewelry, and then one day, I showed up with a crew and . . . she wasn’t there. There was food on the stove, and her jewelry stuff was on the table in her room, and most of her stuff was there too . . . but she wasn’t. She just . . . vanished. And never returned.”

He ran a hand across his cheek. Shook his head, looked out at the river. “I looked for her. Everywhere. Even sent Uncle Wilson and Hud and Mal out—it was a big Bowie family trip. But nothing. We searched the river, and all the trails . . .”

“And you never thought to tell the sheriff?”

“Uncle Wilson went back into town with my statement . . . I never heard anything from Deke about it. And in the back of my mind, I thought . . . well, maybe she wanted to stay lost, you know? Like, if I tried to find her, maybe it would only cause trouble.”

His mouth tightened. “I . . . well, the fact is, I thought maybe she was angry with me about something. She’d been acting restless.” He shook his head and looked back at Flynn. “But yeah. It haunts me. I can’t go out into the woods without the fear that I’ll find her body. Or return without the hope that she’ll just . . . be there at the lodge.”

She knew exactly how that felt.

Behind him, the wind ripped through the evergreens, the river rushing, the sun glistening on it, shadows casting from the massive cliff behind them.

“What about the missing girl who had her necklace?”

Sully shook his head. “I don’t know anything about—wait, are you talking about the Midnight Sun victim? You think maybe she was killed by the Midnight Sun Killer?” His eyes widened.

“It’s a theory.”

Sully stared at the river, a hand to his mouth. “I should have?—”

“Yes, you should have.” She met his gaze, accusations roiling inside her. But his story sounded exactly like Kennedy—selfishly independent. And she’d done the same thing to Sully that she’d done to Flynn.

“If Kennedy is still alive, she clearly doesn’t want to be found,” Flynn said quietly.

He swallowed. “I’d like to hope that she is, but . . .”

“But if she loved you, she would have come back to you?”

“That makes me sound like a Hallmark movie.”

“You sound like a guy who loved my sister.” She gave him a tight smile, reaching inside for compassion.

He answered with the same.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Can I get her stuff? I’d like to look at it, see if I can find anything.”

“Absolutely. I’ll get it and bring it into Copper Mountain when the fishing trip is over tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She stood up. “For the record, I think that Kennedy and you would have been perfect for each other. I’m sorry I’m not her.”

“I’m not,” Axel growled, low and under his breath.

She looked at him, but he just shook his head and held out his hand.

Sully followed them back to the chopper.

London had bandaged up a cut on Laramie’s hand and packed up the medical kit. “Laramie and his dad are going to finish the trip with Sully,” she said. “So I think we’re done here.” She stowed her med kit and climbed into the copilot seat.

Flynn climbed into the chopper, strapped in, and pulled on her helmet.

Axel closed the door and settled beside her, also buckling in. “You sorted?”

She nodded but folded her arms around herself as Moose started up the rotors and finally took off.

She couldn’t speak over the sound of the rotor wash as they headed toward Copper Mountain, so she let herself sink into her thoughts.

If Kennedy was in love with Sully—and if she knew her sister like she knew herself, Kennedy had fallen hard and fast for the handsome fishing guide—nothing would keep her from returning to him.

Except if she thought she—or he—wasn’t safe. If she thought by staying away she’d keep them out of trouble.

And then there was the trouble, the stalker.

Kennedy couldn’t know that Slade was dead. But surely she didn’t think he’d followed her out into the wilds of Alaska?

No, she was afraid of someone else.

They touched down on the tarmac at the Copper Mountain airport, and Axel helped her out, then London and he unloaded the gear into a storage unit in the offices while Moose tied down the chopper.

Moose and London headed inside the office, maybe to make transportation arrangements.

Axel held out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the pasty maker.”

“What I really need is clean clothes. I can’t keep wearing what you brought me to the hospital in. And you dumped all my clothes out at the cabin, thank you.” Her eyes widened. “And the journal.”

“What journal?” He held open the gate to the parking lot.

“It’s a journal Kennedy kept at the cabin. It was in my pack. I completely forgot about it—can we go back?”

He stopped, looked at her. “To the cache cabin? Seriously?”

“I . . .” She sighed. “Okay. I just . . . I just thought there might be something in the journal about who she might have been afraid of.”

He turned to her, put his hands on her forearms. “I’ll call Hank and see if he can get ahold of Peyton and . . . I’ll do my best.”

And suddenly her eyes started to fill. Maybe the rush of adrenaline from the rescue or the surprise of being kissed or even the fact that her sister had been found and loved . . . but, aw, she started to cry.

“What . . . Hey?—”

He pulled her against himself, his strong arms around her, and simply stayed right there in the parking lot, holding her while she quietly fell apart.

“It’s okay. I’ll get the journal?—”

“No, it’s not the journal. It’s . . .” She leaned back. “I don’t know. It’s being here, so close and yet so far, and then . . . you. You just keep . . .”

“What?”

“Being nice! And getting me out of trouble and . . . and . . .” She stared at him, not even sure?—

He cupped his hands under her face, met her eyes. And then he slowly bent down and kissed her.

Oh, it was sweet, his touch, like he didn’t want to break her or hurt her, his lips soft, perfect?—

But she wanted—something else. More of him. All of him, maybe, and she reached up with her good hand and grabbed his shirt.

Lifted herself on her toes and kissed him back. Hard. All in. Practically inhaling the man because this, right here, was air. Breath.

It took him a second, but he caught up fast, his arms going around her, his mouth opening to deepen the kiss, to add urgency and desire and probably everything he’d been thinking—she hoped he’d been thinking—since that moment when he’d reached out for help.

She just hadn’t realized that she’d been reaching out too.

His arms tightened around her, holding her as she softened her mouth, slowed them down a little. He still tasted a little of salted caramel, and in his arms she felt at once rescued and needed.

The wind picked up the fragrance of Alaska, the piney forest, the expansive breath of the mountains, the wildness of an untamed frontier and, yeah, maybe . . .

Maybe she did have an answer to his question.

“Ever thought about doing something different?”

Yes, yes, right now, she did.

“Okay, listen, I can leave you here and come back later or . . .”

Axel raised his head, looked toward the voice.

Moose stood in the parking lot, grinning.

“Thoughts on that?” He looked down at Flynn.

“I think I need a pasty.”

He laughed.

“But for the record, you’re a better kisser than Sully.”

He held out his fist as he took her hand.

She bumped it.

* * *

He didn’t have to be in the ocean to know that he was in over his head.

Axel lay on his wretchedly small single bed, staring at the slanted ceiling of his bedroom, the sunlight leaking between the gaps in the room-darkening shades because of course the sun just couldn’t leave him alone, even at midnight.

It kept him awake, his mind replaying the kiss.

The. Kiss.

How-dy. He couldn’t remember being kissed like that—or kissing someone else quite so . . . well, like he meant it, all the way down to his soul, if that were possible. Somehow, over the past three days, Flynn had awakened something inside him that he’d thought long dead.

He felt like a freaking hero.

And the way she looked at him didn’t help. First in the chopper, then at the airport—and what was a guy to do when she dissolved into tears? Having her in his arms, holding her?—

He didn’t even have to think about it when he kissed her, the urge just crashing over him, drawn in by those beautiful green eyes, her parted lips.

And okay, the memory of Sully kissing her first—yeah, even now, as he stared at the ceiling, he drew in a breath. Sat up.

He’d been one step from pulling the guy off her.

Okay, breathe.He had felt for Sully when he’d realized the truth. And Sully’s story about Kennedy . . . yeah, that made sense. Even the part about why he hadn’t talked to Deke.

Flynn had been quiet at dinner. Maybe too quiet, although she’d gotten on with his parents all right, helping his dad with the dishes while Axel and Moose secured the trash from the animals and put away the vehicles and Moose checked in with the Air One base in Anchorage.

No callouts, for now.

London had stayed in town, bunking at a local Airbnb she frequented.

“But for the record, you’re a better kisser than Sully.”

Great. Now he was back to thinking about Flynn, and the taste of her, the way she fit into his arms, the beautiful intensity of how she’d kissed him. She was . . . well, maybe a whirlwind, or an avalanche, or a force of nature.

Or maybe just a hand in the storm, something he could hang on to. But he’d never felt so much like someone had given him back pieces of himself.

He might even be falling in love with her.

Might be?

His stomach growled.

Fine.He got up, opened the door and, dressed in just a pair of pajama bottoms, headed downstairs.

Paused on the bottom steps at the sight of Flynn sitting on the sofa watching television, the volume on subtitles, remote in her hand.

Oh no.

He saw himself onscreen pretending to be a rescue dummy, Oaken Fox dangling from a fake helicopter in the Shed, their training facility—one of the early episodes of The Sizeup, the rescue reality show.

Even as he watched, he came alive on the rock, startling Oaken. Poor guy nearly fell, but Axel caught him. Pulled him in.

“Yeah, that was a stupid move.” He walked into the room, and she looked up, paused the show. She wore a pair of leggings that she’d picked up in town on the way home. Leggings and T-shirts and underclothes and a thermal shirt and even socks.

She’d forgotten a sweatshirt, however, and he’d given her one of his old Copper Mountain sweatshirts. Which hung on her, of course.

Now she wore a blanket over her shoulders and stood up. “Sorry. I just . . . I can’t sleep. It’s too light out. And . . . your dad mentioned that he’s taped all the shows so far. I thought I’d get caught up.” She waggled her eyebrows. “You’re quite the dish, Axel.”

“Well, keep watching. You’ll see how dishy I am.” He took the remote. “Or—” He tossed it onto the sofa and reached for her, pulling her close.

Lowering his face.

She spun away, leaving him holding the blanket. Backing up.

He eyed her. “What’s . . . happening . . . uh . . .” Because her eyes had widened, and suddenly she turned?—

And walked out the door.

What. The?—

He took off after her—probably not his smartest move, but something . . .

Something wasn’t right, because she’d taken the deck steps down to the yard and was limping out to the river, gesturing into the air as if talking to herself.

Ho-kay.

He didn’t even realize he still held the blanket until halfway across the yard. Then he slung it over his shoulder and kept going.

“Are you serious? Just . . . c’mon, Flynn!”

He came up behind her as she stalked the shoreline, and she glanced over at him. “Sorry. I’m having a little shout-out with Kennedy.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Just . . . stand back and let us duke this out, okay?”

He looked around, back to her. “What?”

She sighed, turned to him. “I know she’s not here, okay? I’m not actually losing my mind or anything. Sometimes I pretend she is here, okay? Because, you know, I see her every time I look in the mirror. So it’s not super hard to have an actual conversation with her, because I know how she thinks.”

Right.He hadn’t thought about the fact that she actually looked at the likeness of her lost sister every day. Wow.

“Okay. I’ll just . . . go sit over here, and you can tell me when you . . . two are done fighting.”

His parents had set up Adirondack chairs overlooking the river, and he settled into one. “Carry on.”

She stared at him. “Now it’s weird.”

“I have news for you—it was always weird.”

Her lips pursed.

He leaned forward. “Okay, fight with me. I’ll be Kennedy.”

“You can’t be Kennedy.”

“Why?”

“Because, tough guy, we’re arguing about you.”

“Perfect. Because I’ll be on my side.”

She stared at him. “Okay, here’s the thing. You might be Jack and everything, but I’m Rose.”

“And we’re back to Titanic.”

“It’s always about Titanic. Jack and Rose. And how they couldn’t possibly have lived happily ever after.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t real. They lived in different worlds . . . Their romance was just . . . for the moment.”

“Looked real. Felt real.” And maybe he wasn’t actually talking about the movie, because he’d seen it when he was about twelve, on DVD, and thought it was overdone and way too dramatic, but then again—he’d been twelve.

And then, as she went quiet, real frustration in her eyes, he realized . . . no, she wasn’t talking about the movie.

“What’s going on here, Sparrow?”

“Don’t call me that.”

He had cocked his head at her.

“Because it just . . . makes me . . . like you. Too much. And I lose my brains, and I can’t do that, Jack. Axel.”

“Lugnut, if that works better.”

She raised both her fists, shook them. “Stop being . . . charming.”

“You saw the reality show. I can’t help it.” He smiled.

“This . . . thing. This attraction . . . this?—”

“Undeniable passion? Unbreakable connection? Unrelenting desire?”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It . . . can’t work.”

Oh.From her tone, she wasn’t kidding. And that took the wind out of his smile.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’ve known each other for three days. Three. And I kissed you like you’d just come back from war or something.”

“Looked at me that way too.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Yeah, I am.” He stood up. “I’m helping you see that maybe there is something else—for both of us—if you have a little faith.” He took a step toward her. “Listen, Sparrow, three days is forever in the rescue world. Every minute is life and death. Three days is an eternity.” He took another step.

She swallowed but didn’t move.

“There’s a reason that you were on the other end of that radio,” he said, his voice lowering. “And if you believe in God, like I do, then you have to believe it there was a purpose.”

“Maybe to save your life.”

“And yours.”

She nodded. He took another step, close enough to put a hand under her chin, to lift it.

“And I think you keep saving it, Flynn.”

She wet her lips, and his gaze caught on it, stirring the flame inside that didn’t need any more fanning.

She stepped back. Put her hand on his chest. “I have a life in Minneapolis. A job. A family. I’m the only child left, and my parents need me and . . .”

“Hey, hey—” He took a step toward her, but she matched it and stepped back.

“Okay. I won’t chase you down.” He stood there, his hands at his sides. “But, Flynn, I?—”

“What did you mean, I keep saving your life?”

He drew in a breath. Looked out at the river shaded in the dusky after-midnight light. Back to her. “When I was a kid, about ten years old, I was in town. It was summer, and I was throwing sticks into the river, down at the park. There were some families there, and suddenly I looked up and there was this kid playing in the water. Maybe six years old. He fell and the current grabbed him, and there was no one else around—or I didn’t see anyone—so I went in after him. He was already struggling, but I grew up on the river. I started kayaking when I was about his age, so I knew how to read it, what to do. I caught up to him at an eddy, and then a few grownups were there and they got us out. And then, suddenly, I was the town hero, and . . . I got it in my head that I could save people.”

He looked back at her, and she hadn’t moved, listening again, like she did.

“And then . . . I lost that feeling.”

“When Aven died.”

“Yes.”

“And you tried to get it back in the Coast Guard.”

He lifted a shoulder.

“Then you lost yourself.”

Huh. “Maybe, whatever. But when I’m with you . . . I guess . . . I feel like I’ve found me again. Or at least pieces of me. And not because I saved you or you saved me?—”

“Let’s be honest. You saved yourself, Axel.”

He cocked his head. “If we’re really honest, God saved me. But maybe that’s it. You make me feel like that guy—the guy I thought I was—is back. Like Rose did for Jack. You make me feel like I can be more.”

His voice softened. “Maybe you are Rose. You make it worth it to stay in the water. And wow, that sounded stupid.”

“Yeah, that’s a real mess.” Then she shook her head, took two steps toward him, and put her arms around his neck. Pulled him down to her. “I’m in such big trouble.”

And then she kissed him.

Oh wow, did she kiss him. She was a wave, crashing over him, sweeping through him, taking him with her into the kiss. She smelled amazing—she’d taken a shower in the basement guest bathroom and her hair was still a little wet—and he wove his hands into all those copper tangles before wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Fitting her perfectly against him.

The flame lit to inferno and he deepened the kiss.

He didn’t have a hope of sleeping after this.

She tasted of toothpaste, fresh and inviting, and he wanted more of her. So much more. So he scooped her up, then walked back and sat on the nearest Adirondack chair, her arms still around his neck.

She made a tiny sound and leaned back, met his eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking there, Jack, but this is not the backseat scene in the movie, so don’t think of getting handsy.”

“I’m going to be honest and say that was the only scene I liked.”

“I’ll bet.”

He lifted both hands. “But I’ll keep them where you can see them, to quote my favorite ornery detective.”

“I still have the bear gun.”

“No, actually you don’t.”

She wrinkled her nose, then slid her hands into his, wove her fingers between his. “Please don’t make me fall in love with you.”

“Then you should stop kissing me. Because you’ve seen my press. People all over the world love me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll chance it.”

“Attagirl.” Then he pulled her close and kissed her again, the midnight sun shining over him, the rush of the Copper River cheering in the distance.

* * *

He didn’t know why he’d brought the dumb chicken box along.

Moose stood in the light of the refrigerator, staring at the cardboard container.

No, staring at the stupid red heart. The one between his name and hers. Like they might be in middle school and she’d scrawled it in her notebook and he’d gotten a peek.

It made the small part of his heart that was indeed still in middle school thump, hard, against his ribs.

Almost painfully.

But the rest of him, the all-grown-up-and-learned-lessons-in-love-the-hard-way part of his heart, shut the door of the refrigerator.

The chicken had probably gone bad anyway, sitting in his duffle bag all day. He’d grabbed it from the counter as Axel kitted up, as Flynn read the map on the wall, and suffered an insane swell of jealousy.

He missed the Skyport.

No, he missed Tillie. And her beautiful brown eyes, and that teasing smile, and that mane of dark hair.

He should never have asked her out and screwed up the entire thing.

Movement out in the yard made him glance over, through the kitchen window.

He stilled.

They were at it again. For the love . . . And now Axel picked Flynn up and sat down with her on the chair overlooking the river.

Parking them there.

He turned away, refusing to be a voyeur.

Axel deserved a little happiness, but Flynn had come out of nowhere. Still, according to Axel, she’d been a lifeline to him.

And she’d kept her word today and kept out of the way. Mostly.

Until Sully kissed her.

He should have known by the look on Axel’s face that little bro had feelings for her. But Sully had lived to see another day, and apparently, given the moonlight tango out there, they’d sorted it out.

He had a mind to wander down to the river, though, just to make sure that Axel behaved himself . . .

Have a little faith.

He didn’t know if it was his voice or God’s, but yeah, his big little brother was probably old enough to figure out what kind of man he wanted to be.

Moose headed over to the television. It was paused on—oh boy. The Sizeup. That stupid reality show he’d agreed to.

He sat down and pushed play. Laughed a little at the scene of Axel playing the dummy, although at the time he’d wanted to strangle him.

But it played well on the show. Oaken came on, talking about his experience, and then the show cut away to them debriefing at the Tooth. Axel sitting at the table and Boo with him, Shep, standing, his back to the counter. They were talking about training and how Oaken was doing, right before he came in from the locker room. Axel tossed him a rope bag he’d been stuffing, one they’d use for the upcoming river rescue training.

And then someone asked where Moose went.

He froze when Axel grinned and said, “He went to see his girl.”

His girl.

Yeah, not even a little. He turned off the television.

He walked to the refrigerator and opened it. Took out the container, looked at the heart. “Sorry, Till.” Then he opened the trash and dumped it in.

Some mistakes couldn’t be fixed.

He glanced out the window. Axel had gotten up, taken Flynn’s hand, and they walked back to the house.

He watched as Flynn headed into the downstairs entrance. Axel came up the stairs to the main floor.

Good boy.

He headed upstairs to his room and finally closed his eyes when he heard Axel’s door close.

Maybe it was enough to see Axel happy. Healing. Heading toward wholeness.

And maybe he should stop babysitting his brother.

He just didn’t know how.