Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

2019

“Good morning, you’re Off Topic with Roe Finlay and Jake Denver. I’m Roe, and Jake is starting off the new year with a man cold. It’s gonna be a wonderful week!”

“Let’s be clear—we don’t even know if I’m gonna make it,” Jake said hoarsely.

“Through the week?” I smirked and took a swig of my coffee.

“Through the day.”

I chuckled.

While he stayed on his side of the table—dressed in a hoodie and sweats, his mug filled with steaming hot tea that he didn’t like—and did his best to look alive, I moved us along to the first topic of the day. We had a lot to cover.

“For those of you watching on YouTube, you’ve probably noticed our table’s packed with hiking gear,” I said, adjusting my headphones. “This is everything we’re allowed to bring with us to Alaska.”

“Filming begins in two weeks, so this month may very well be the last you’ll hear from us,” Jake said.

“I’m glad you woke up on the optimistic side of the bed today,” I noted. “As we’ve mentioned before, Jake and I are on our own for this project. We picked the absolute worst season to do a survival show in Alaska, but hey, that’s part of the challenge. Which brings us to our equipment—and I’m not talking about the seventeen-thousand-dollar lens Jake bought this week, but our livestream.”

“You just had to get that in there.”

“Obviously,” I replied. “Anyway. It might be a minute before the series premieres, but rest easy. We will have two cameras shooting at all times while we’re up there. No audio—because, to be frank, I don’t want you to hear me cry for rescue when my toes turn blue—but you’ll be able to see us on our month-long livestream.” I paused and pulled up a tab on my laptop. “Jake, can you set the mood for our listeners? What can we expect when we arrive in the Last Frontier state?”

He coughed and reached for his useless cough drops. “Yup—so we’ll be dropped at an undisclosed location, where we’ll meet up with two locals who work as wilderness guides. They’re also very familiar with SAR missions, so Roe doesn’t have to worry too much.”

I grinned into my coffee mug. We truly would be on our own—but our guides wouldn’t be too far away.

“They will take us to the spear of a small peninsula, where Roe and I are going to spend a month just trying to survive,” he went on. “At our disposal, we have a small hunting cabin. It has no heat, no running water, no electricity, no insulation, no amenities. It’s a single room with a fireplace, basically. We will hunt our own food—to be exact, we will fish, trap, and forage. Hunting season’s over. Last but not least, we have a series of tasks we have to complete.”

I slipped him the notepad with the list.

He read from it. “We have to build our own beds. When it’s that cold, it’s important to get off the ground. The cabin’s owner has requested an outhouse, so we’re gonna build that too. We have to present at least three full meals with a minimum of five ingredients—snow and pinecones don’t count.”

Aw, I had to press the “oh no!” sound effect.

Jake coughed on a chuckle. “We have to construct our own traps, of course. And most importantly, we gotta keep y’all entertained.”

This was our cue for a hint.

According to Haley, rumors were flying now that Jake and I weren’t meticulously careful anymore. I mean, our closest friends and family knew about us. I had an aunt in New York who was happy for us and couldn’t “help but share the news with friends.” Our children knew—even if they didn’t quite understand, Colin being the exception. He understood that Dad and Uncle Roe were boyfriends.

Sandra hadn’t said a single word.

Either way, we had a few choices. Jake and I could come out and simply confirm our relationship. We could ignore the topic altogether in a “mind your own business” kind of move. But Haley and Seth suggested something in between. We’d drop a few hints that eventually made shit pretty obvious, and that would be that. It was the alternative with which Jake was most comfortable, and if I had to be honest, so was I. And it had nothing to do with embarrassment or anything like it. We just didn’t particularly enjoy having our personal lives on display.

“Luckily for me, I’m bringing Roe,” Jake said. He made eye contact and smiled a little. Affection and nervousness mingled in his expression. “With him around, you’ll get plenty of laughs.”

Here we go.

“I love how much faith you have in me, baby.”

He grinned faintly. “Anytime, darlin’.”

Keep your cool, Finlay. Keep your fucking cool. You have viewers too.

“Shall we move on to our second list?” I asked. “The show’s called One Backpack to Survive: Alaska. As you viewers can see, it’s just a daypack, not one of those bigger hiking backpacks. So we can’t bring whatever we want. We’re not there to get comfortable and grill marshmallows. It’s going to be a challenge. Everyone we’ve talked to is saying the same thing—we need more gear. But where’s the fun in that?”

“Before I answer that rhetorical question, we just gotta put this out there,” Jake said. “During our month in frigid Alaska, we will get a couple hours’ break once a week to talk to our children—and to charge our batteries. The literal ones. We need juice for our equipment.”

Oh, right. We were supposed to mention that earlier.

“Gotta be able to see those kiddos,” I said with a nod. “Our expert Alaskans will take us to a town where we can Skype or FaceTime with the family. But we solemnly swear we will not gorge on McDonald’s during our breaks.”

Jake grinned and scratched his eyebrow. “It’s a tiny village. I don’t think there’s any fast food.”

“Fast food in Alaska is probably whatever’s chasing you,” I joked.

He laughed, and that set off a coughing fit.

My bad.

It was gonna be rough not seeing the kids for that long, but I had faith in our family. My sister Mira was coming to stay while we were gone. Together with Nikki and Haley, they were gonna hold down the fort. And Kathryn—always reliable too.

A message from Haley popped up on my laptop screen.

Comments about the terms of endearment are pouring in. Vast majority are just curious. Many are rooting for you! The Jayroe shippers are pushing darlin/baby hashtags on Twitter.

Jayroe? That was how they’d Brangelina’d us?

I supposed it could be worse…like…Finver.

Still. It could be a lot better too.

I refocused; Jake was halfway through the items on our packing list, all of which were displayed on the table. From tools like knives and an ax to fishing line and a first aid kit. We each had a sleeping mat and a sleeping bag, and that was pretty much it in the comfort department. We really did need to build some kind of bed to get us off the stone floor in the cabin.

Another message appeared, and I was about to dismiss the notification when I saw it was from Sandra.

Look. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I will have to block you on social media soon. All of my friends are asking about you and Jake, and I don’t wanna think about it. Like, do you understand how this makes me look? Did I make you gay or something? I know you told me once that you were bi, but I thought you were joking! It’s not funny, Roe.

I scratched my forehead.

Things were going really well with her…

I was curious. She didn’t want me to take this the wrong way…? Which way was right?

Jesus Christ. I didn’t respond.

“…and if you haven’t fallen asleep yet,” Jake went on, “the last items on the list are fire-starter, fifty yards of rope, toilet paper, and a compass.”

I took my cue from my cheat sheet of comments. “Note that we haven’t listed bowls, forks, spoons, or cups. We’ll head up there with knives to make those ourselves. So that should be awesome.”

“Next year from Roe Finlay and Jake Denver, our very own set of dinnerware sold at Target,” Jake joked.

I laughed.

* * *

After we wrapped our episode, I could tell Jake was losing his energy quickly.

It wasn’t just his vicious cold, though.

We were flying to Norfolk in four days.

“C’mere.” I nodded for the door. “I’m walking you home.”

He frowned and got up from his chair. “We have work.”

Work could wait.

“You need to rest,” I told him. “Come on, lemme dote on you, will you?”

His mouth twitched, and it wasn’t like I had to twist his arm. He wasn’t feeling well at all.

Outside the studio, work was busy. Haley wanted to talk, but she took one look at her brother and understood when I said I’d be back after I’d put the photographer to bed. Seth passed us in the hallway, his assistant hot on his tail, and he said, “We really need more space, guys!” over his shoulder.

“We gave you the green light to look at listings!” I hollered back.

“Then what’s the budget?” he asked. “You okay with the numbers I got from the bank?”

Jeesh. Uh. It was a shit-ton of money. We weren’t discussing a tiny studio space anymore. We needed at least four offices, one room for editing, a common area, and a recording studio.

“Let me get back to you,” I decided. Jake was on his way out the door, and I couldn’t think numbers right now. “We’ll do lunch, okay?”

He nodded and headed into the office.

I caught up with Jake outside the house, where our front gate was gone.

Another thing costing money. We had to install a better security system and a gate that locked properly. More than that, we had to embed a fence into the hedge.

Jake sniffled and coughed. “I don’t think you need to worry, darlin’. This show is gonna make the suits happy.”

I didn’t doubt that. In our fun quest to challenge ourselves, we were selling out just a little bit for the money. The sponsorship deals were fucking bananas. We had the coffee table book coming out too. Plus, we’d just sold Currahee to another seven European markets, and our podcast revenue kept growing as our docuseries appeared in more and more countries.

“I’m not worried about today. I’m thinking about tomorrow.” We had to keep shit afloat too. “Condor Chicks isn’t really a couple chicks anymore.”

He sent me a sideways smile and grabbed my hand.

That felt good. Holding his hand, just walking down the street to our home, probably wasn’t a big deal to most people, but it was to me.

Anyway. I was supposed to comfort Jake, not the other way around.

I waited till we were home, where I steered him toward the kitchen. I was gonna heat up some soup for him.

“Sit down.” I kissed his cheek before I got started. “So it’s been a lot lately—for you, I mean.”

“Huh?”

I gestured—kinda vaguely—at everything around us. “You know. My divorce, us moving in together, merging our army of kids, finally being official…being out. The public wondering… Norfolk.”

He nodded slowly as I poured Panera leftovers into a bowl.

“Are you waitin’ for me to freak out?” he wondered. “Roe, I’ve had five years to process my feelings for you. Finding acceptance and all that.”

I glanced at him. There was more to be said. I knew Jake better than anyone.

He was happy. He was at peace with himself. I felt that in how he behaved on a day-to-day basis. I felt it in how he acted around me, how he treated me, and how he always wanted us to be close. But that didn’t mean everything had been processed.

Demons liked to pay a visit every now and then.

I set the bowl of soup in the microwave and waited him out.

I could make him more of that tea too. Whether he liked it was irrelevant. Grandma Jo-Jo insisted.

“Okay, I’m worried my folks are gonna rip the progress I’ve made away from me,” he finally admitted. “I have no idea how this confrontation is gonna go, and I’ve been weak in the past. I’m so goddamn happy—like, in here.” He gestured to his chest. “I can’t explain it. It’s a new feeling to me. And yeah, it scares the shit outta me because I’ve never had more to lose.”

Screw the tea. I rounded the kitchen island and joined him at his side.

“That’s been my fear about coming out in the public too,” he said. “Not to the same degree, though. I feel more confident now that our family and friends know.”

I got it. I understood his worries. He’d spent his entire childhood—not to mention a fair share of his adult years too—bending to his mother’s will. The abuse had been so invisible at times that he hadn’t noticed it until years later when a therapist had gotten involved.

I was never gonna forget the man he’d been eight years ago. Pretty new to LA, eyes wide, a little sheltered, kinda lost and confused. He’d observed so much. I wasn’t sure if he’d been aware of that, but I’d caught him studying people he didn’t understand. When we’d worked at that gay club…? Sometimes, he’d just stood there and stared. Like he was trying to make shit make sense.

“I want you to keep Colin in mind.” I touched his cheek briefly. “Whatever your ma tells you, picture yourself saying that to our little Jake Junior. If it feels wrong and turns your stomach, chances are your mother is a piece of shit.”

He flashed a quick smile at my beautifully put poetic advice, and he shifted in his seat to face me fully. “Are you sure you wanna come with me?”

The microwave beeped.

Was he serious?

“Jake, I’m honestly not letting you go alone.”

It was bad enough he insisted I stay put at a nearby coffee place. I hadn’t bothered making hotel reservations; he wouldn’t wanna stay.

He turned pensive and looked down at my hand next to his on the island top. “Do you worry I’mma fall back too? That I’ll return to shame and embarrassment?”

Oh hell, he couldn’t think that. “No, baby… That’s not it at all.” I grabbed his hand in both of mine and kissed his knuckles. “I’m worried they’re gonna hurt you.” Haley’s reaction to Jake coming out had put me on high alert. “For a man who’s had problems expressing his feelings, you care so incredibly deeply. And it wasn’t that many years ago you were defending your parents. You have a sense of loyalty not many people have.”

He looked down.

I stepped between his legs and hugged him, and I kissed the side of his head.

He let out a breath and squeezed my middle. “It’s for my grandfather too. Why I’m doin’ this. He…” He swallowed hard. “I’ve thought about him a lot. I mean—it just kills me that he probably sacrificed a big part of himself to go back to my grandmother.”

I sighed. Of course. Of course Jake was thinking about him. It hadn’t even occurred to me. That old hag had supposedly forbidden Jake’s grandfather from seeing their kids. Something about a separation, right? I didn’t remember the specifics, but he had left. He’d separated from the grandmother from hell, and he’d had that picture taken of him and another man. During that time, he hadn’t been allowed to see his kids. And back in those days…? A simple threat of outing a gay person could silence them forever.

I scratched Jake’s scalp gently, and he lifted his head.

I dipped down and kissed him. “You’re doing the right thing, and I will be five minutes away in total agony.”

He smiled into the kiss. “With the car key in hand?”

“You know it.” I pecked him a few times and hoped, for his sake, I didn’t get sick. I was much worse than him. “I love you.”

He hummed. “Love you.”

* * *

I yawned.

I checked the time.

9:52 AM

Fucking layovers in fucking Atlanta…

But now we were in Norfolk.

As we walked past baggage claim, I made a hotel reservation in DC and let them know it would be a late check-in. Tomorrow, we’d stop by in New York to celebrate my uncle’s birthday with stellar Rangers tickets. But before then, I wanted Jake to be able to relax.

I texted my nephew Crew as well, reminding him to tidy up our condo. He stayed there when he was home on leave. Truth be told, I hoped he got out of the Marines soon. He’d expressed feeling restless and bored last time we’d talked, and a bored Marine was never a good thing, much less a bored Finlay.

A text from Nikki popped up.

Have you landed yet? Haley and I vote for frequent updates. We got the earliest appointment for the kids to get their hair cut, and then we’re getting pancakes. Text or call whenever! xo

I responded to her a while later when we waited for our rental.

Come on… I couldn’t deal with computer issues now. Just get our SUV. It was parked right outside.

The guy gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, sir, it should work now.”

“No problem.” I leaned against the counter and glanced over at Jake.

He was eyeing happy stock-photo models on the wall by a sad-looking fern.

I had it all planned out. Unbeknownst to Jake, I’d packed two of his cameras. Taking photos centered him, so I’d figured we could find some scenic route on our way to DC. I’d pick up a couple subs on the way, a few donuts, coffee. Right out into nature.

Eventually, we tossed our backpacks in the back of the SUV, and we were on our way.

“Do you need me to distract you?” I asked.

“That’s why I’m letting you drive.”

He didn’t mean that. He thought I was a wonderful driver.

He coughed and cleared his throat, then told me to take the next exit.

“There’s a Starbucks five minutes away from their house,” he told me, not for the first time. But I wasn’t going to some damn Starbucks after I’d dropped him off. Actually—I was driving over there to buy coffee, and then I was gonna park closer to Jake’s folks’ house and wait.

Once we were off the highway, industry and warehouses morphed into a residential area. Jake couldn’t get comfortable in his seat, no matter how many times he shifted and twisted.

“You’ve got this, Jake.” I put a hand on his leg. “Try to remember you’ve been putting your foot down more and more for the past eight years. You don’t fly out as soon as your mother complains, you don’t talk to them when they think it’s time.”

As far as I knew, they were down to a phone call a month, which Jake kept brief.

“No, but I’m always slingin’ shitty excuses,” he muttered. “I got work, Bear’s got a soccer game, I have to take Sam to the dentist, my battery’s low… I gotta man up and say I’m fuckin’ done. I don’t wanna come here again. It’s been almost two years since I flew out with Colin and Sam for a weekend, and it still feels like it was yesterday.”

I rubbed his leg, wishing I could be more helpful.

“How have they reacted to fewer calls and visits?” I asked. “Like, do they think something is wrong?”

He sighed and sort of shook his head, like he wasn’t entirely sure. “My folks aren’t what you would call solution-oriented. They’ll bitch and moan a little, but they won’t ask themselves why their son ain’t happy to visit. They haven’t done that with Haley either. They’ve chalked it up to her being unruly and part of that new generation that can’t spell tradition. In their eyes, she’s the one who doesn’t care about family.”

Ugh, yeah, we had a lot of those people. Sandra’s dad was similar, with a modern twist. He thought we should suck it up and stay together for the kids. He didn’t understand fuck-all about postpartum depression, nor how people needed to be happy in order to be the best parents. He was never gonna stop spoiling Sandra with money and lavish gifts, and he would never fully get her either. It was a pat-pat-pat on the head, here’s some money, and you’ll be fine.

I didn’t dare hope for a perfect outcome where Sandra was concerned, but for as long as she had her mom and she stayed in therapy, there was a chance.

“Left up here,” Jake said quietly.

I took a breath and felt a flutter of nerves tighten my stomach.

I love you, I love you, I love you, stay strong, I’ll be right here waiting for you.

I didn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t be receptive to it.

“Number eight.” He cleared his throat and nodded at a pale-yellow house that hadn’t seen an upgrade in decades. Soon as I pulled over, I sensed the generational shift on the street. The older residents and their plainish houses were being replaced by younger families with robot lawn mowers and fixer-upper attitudes.

I idled at the curb and grabbed his hand.

I had nothing to say that I hadn’t already told him, so I just squeezed his hand and offered a quick reminder. “Think about our kids in there, okay? You’d go berserk if anyone treated them the way your folks have treated you.”

He nodded with a dip of his chin. Mentally, he’d already left the SUV, and now the rest of him followed.

Fucking hell, I was gonna turn into a nervous wreck too.

Since his parents weren’t actually expecting him, I guessed there would be a moment of surprise and some mindless chitchat on his mom’s part. Jake would suffer through it on autopilot before he got down to business. In other words, I turned the car around and made my way to Starbucks, fairly sure nothing crucial would happen in the next ten or fifteen minutes.

I eyed the breakfast items on the menu but couldn’t stomach the thought of food right now, so I ordered a latte with a double shot of espresso before I headed back to Jake’s folks’ neighborhood.

I found a run-down playground just a street over, where I parked and resigned myself to wait.

Had Jake played here when he was little?

It had a decently sized lawn. Kids probably played soccer here when the weather allowed it. The swing set and the slide had seen better days, probably in the nineties. A kid’s bike missing a wheel was thrown in the sandbox.

I sipped my coffee and texted Nikki.

He’s there now. I’m parked a street over by a playground. Are you at the hair place yet? How’s Sam doing?

That girl hated getting her hair cut. But she hated having her hair brushed even more, so that was Nikki’s rule. If she was gonna scream every time any of us approached her with a hairbrush, she would have to settle for shoulder-length.

Casper fucking loved going to the hairdresser. Nikki used to work there back in the day, in Santa Monica, and it was two of her friends who took care of all our kids. Mariah was Cas’s favorite, and as soon as she put her fingers in his messy mop to shampoo his hair, he was in heaven.

Plus, all kids got a sticker and a lollipop afterward. What’s not to love?

Nikki responded a minute later.

She survived!

A video appeared, and I pressed play. Sam was grinning and holding her lollipop in a tight grip—and it was just perfect because her tears had barely dried. Her cheeks were still flushed from a cry-fest.

“Uncle Roe, we’re getting pancakes for breakfast!”

I smiled and went to my camera and put it in selfie mode for a quick video.

“Pancakes sound amazing, princess. And you look too cute with those bows in your hair.”

I sent it off and was grateful for the brief distraction. How long had Jake been in hostile territory now—twenty minutes? Give or take?

I took a swig of my coffee and watched a woman walk her dog across from the playground.

I checked my watch for the tenth time.

11:40 AM

It started drizzling outside.

I dicked around on my phone some more. I confirmed with Sandra I could have the kids on my birthday. March was a ways to go, but Jake and I thought we could take the kids someplace this year. Our birthdays were only four days apart, and we’d never vacationed together with the kids, not counting a handful of overnighters in Southern California. We were thinking Mexico or Florida this time. Maybe Disney? Stop by and visit Grandma Jo-Jo? She had a birthday coming up as well. The lady was turning ninety-two. Talk about impressive.

I should text her too. She wasn’t happy with her son, to put it mildly. And she’d never been happy with Jake’s mom.

Just as I found Grandma Jo-Jo’s number in my phone, I got a message from Nikki.

We’re still at the salon. Haley just stepped outside because their dad called. You might wanna get ready to intervene. She doesn’t look pleased. She’s gesturing like a New Yorker (like you) and scaring people on the sidewalk.

What the fuck? Why would their dad call her while he was with Jake? What was going on?

I returned my coffee to the cupholder and grabbed the car key. Should I walk closer to the house? And what, lurk in the fucking backyard? Christ. Frustration built up, and I typed a quick reply to Nikki.

Can you go out and ask her what it’s about? I don’t care what you interrupt. I don’t wanna knock down the door if everything’s gravy, but I won’t have him alone a second too long if they’re hurting him.

In all the years I’d known Jake, I’d never seen him flinch at a physical injury. Not counting our lovely experience with the Coast Guard. Other than that…? He’d sprained an ankle or two, he’d hurt his wrist once when he’d constructed a wooden organizer for all his flower seeds, he’d banged his head on the asphalt when he’d caught Colin falling off his new bike, shit like that. It just wasn’t the way to hurt Jake. To do that, you had to go after his sense of responsibility, loyalty, everything that mattered to him on a deeper level.

I opened the door and had a foot on the pavement as I watched Nikki type.

All of a sudden, it stopped.

Come the fuck on!

A beat later, it was Haley who was calling me.

I answered right away. “What’s going on?”

“Go over there! Mom’s fucking lost it!” She was losing it too; she could barely talk, she was crying so hard.

Adrenaline shot through me, and I was out of the car before I knew it. I locked up and started running across the playground.

“Tell me what happened,” I demanded.

“Dad c-called and wondered why we were bringing a bunch of drama.” She choked up. “Jake told them about y’all and asked why Grandpa left back in the day—and I don’t know. I mean, I know Mom—she won’t just dive into a fight. Maybe they went back and forth awhile—whatever. She lost it. I heard her fucking screaming in the background that—that—”

“Haley,” I growled. I couldn’t fucking take it. I sped up and reached the beginning of their street, and I hit the sidewalk in a sprint.

The rain was coming down heavier.

“She said Jake was ruining your family just like Grandpa ruined hers,” she sobbed.

Oh my God.

A wave of nausea nearly caused me to lose my footing. The rage that followed kept me upright, and I ended the call without another word. I gnashed my teeth so hard I thought I’d crush my molars, and I ran as fast as I could till I reached that ugly fucking house.

I jumped over the low hedge that framed the front yard, and then I made it up their porch steps and pounded on the door. No, fuck that. I tore it open and barged in like a fucking madman.

“Don’t you see?” I heard a woman shriek. I came to a screeching halt in the hallway and didn’t see anyone. Kitchen to the right—empty. The hallway continued to possibly a living room. “This is what I was trying to protect you from, Jacob!” Yeah, obviously, it was his mother. I lingered in the hallway, nervous, angry beyond words, and cast an absent look at the school photos on the walls. “You think I didn’t notice when you were little? I told myself—I told my mother—you were just a child. It didn’t mean anythin’ when you played with your cousin’s dolls and put the two Ken dolls together. I defended you—I told her you were just a six-year-old boy who preferred boy dolls, but she was right, wasn’t she? Sometimes you really can tell from such an early age.”

Holy shit, I’d heard enough.

I strode into the living room and immediately spotted Jake sitting on a couch, elbows on his knees, fingers buried in his hair, head dropped.

No. Don’t fucking listen to her, baby.

Helen Denver stood at the center of the room, directing all her homophobic bullshit at her son.

A fraction of a second later, I noticed a man standing to the side where I’d just come in, and he spotted me at the same time.

His shock was instant. “Who are—it’s you.” Then the anger.

I sucked in a breath as all eyes landed on me, but I only cared about Jake. He was angry, he was upset, he was hiding hurt behind stone.

I recovered first. “Youse celebrating your son’s new relationship? I reckon I should be here for that.”

Mrs. Denver narrowed her eyes at me. “You should be with your wife, Monroe.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, but I don’t have one,” I told her. “I have a future husband right there, though. You got a problem with that, you can fucking choke on it.”

She reeled back as if she’d been slapped.

Bitch certainly deserved one.

“Now, you can’t come into my house and speak to my wife like—”

“Sit the fuck down,” I told Jake’s pop. With that said, I walked over to Jake and squatted down in front of him. He stared right at me, but I wasn’t sure he was seeing me. He was holding back so much anger and grief in those eyes. “Did you get your answers?” I asked quietly.

He swallowed hard. “More or less.”

“Jacob!” Helen snapped. “Don’t think for a second we’re finished here—”

“Seriously, lady.” I glared back at her. “You’ve got two kids who don’t want anything to do with you anymore. They’re both actively keepin’ your grandkids away from you too. Give that a fucking thought before you open your mouth again.” My phone rang in my pocket, but I ignored it for now and faced Jake again. “We’re getting out of here, okay? Is there anything from your childhood you wanna bring? I can run upstairs or…”

He shook his head and eased back. “Let’s just go.”

Thank fuck.

We stood up, and—

“You can’t leave like this!” Helen exclaimed, her voice tinted with hysteria. I saw it in her eyes too. “Jacob, there are ways—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I yelled. Holy fuck, the rage exploded. Just the idea of her ways made me wanna choke her out. “You’ve done enough. We’re outta hea’.” I grabbed Jake’s hand and headed for the hallway. My anger welled up in rapid waves, causing my chest to tighten—and it was possible I was squeezing his hand too hard. I couldn’t help it.

“Jacob,” Helen pleaded.

I got pulled back when Jake turned to her. He towered over her. No glare or anything, just…nothing.

“All these years,” he said quietly. “My whole childhood—you tried to turn me into something else. Somethin’ you approved of. You want a better son? Pray for one. I’m fuckin’ done.” He didn’t even spare his dad a glance as he started walking again.

We left the house together, and it wasn’t until then that I felt how fast my heart was beating. If I needed time to think and process, I couldn’t imagine what Jake was going through.

“I parked next to the playground.”

He nodded once.

Okay, now I had to be extra patient. He would talk to me when he was ready.

We walked in silence, and he gripped my hand as tightly as I gripped his.

No more hiding.

Maybe we should go home right away. I could change our flight. I could call my aunt and say we’d be there this spring instead. As much as I wouldn’t mind a fun dinner with my brothers and sister, Jake’s comfort came first. And my unc’s birthday wasn’t a big pre-planned hoopla. Greer and Ben weren’t coming up from Virginia. It was dinner, and we’d agreed to come because we knew we’d be on the East Coast anyway. We’d originally planned to just forward the hockey tickets. He would go with a buddy.

I bit my lip.

It probably wasn’t wise to book the next flight out either. Jake wouldn’t wanna sit in an airport right now, lounge access or not. No, I should take him out to some nice scenic point where he could look at the world through his camera for a moment.

We arrived at the car, and Jake didn’t get in once I’d unlocked it.

He stayed in front of it and removed his ball cap to run a hand through his hair. Then he opened the passenger’s side door and left his cap on the dash. The rain was picking up a little.

“Maybe God isn’t real,” he said. “She didn’t manage to pray the gay away.”

Hell.

I didn’t have an answer, so I spoke the words I felt my aunt would say. “This is where Aunt Elsie would go, actually, that’s solid proof of his existence ’cause he wouldn’t do a damn thing to someone who’s already perfect.”

He looked at me sharply, and his eyes welled up so fast that I knew the words had hit hard. How they were supposed to hit.

I walked over to him and cupped his face in my hands. “Tell me what you need from me, love. Anything.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down and blended with the raindrops. “I’m just tryna wrap my head around how you can wanna change your kids. Why I couldn’t be enough—”

“Jake—baby, that’s on them—”

“I know.” He sniffled and broke away from me, and I stayed back. I watched him take a couple breaths and wipe at his cheeks. He looked around us a bit too, as if making sure we didn’t have an audience.

The area was dead. The playground in the center, backyards facing it on three sides, then the little row of five or six parking spaces, three of which were empty.

“Did you get your suspicions about your grandfather confirmed?” I asked carefully.

He cleared his throat and dipped his chin. “She didn’t outright say it, but yeah. He wanted a divorce and admitted he was into men, and Grandma punished him by taking the kids away. Ma said something—I can’t be sure, but it sounded like Grandma threatened to out him in their community—to their church and whatever.”

As I’d theorized, then.

Fucking hell, that was awful. So he’d eventually gone back. He’d suppressed his sexual identity, and he’d chosen his kids. And what parent wouldn’t have done the same? Jake and I sure would’ve, but thankfully we didn’t have to these days. Those backward times were fucking over.

Jake’s parents belonged in the past.

“At the risk of pissin’ you off, I don’t want Casper, Adam, and Callie to one day feel what I’m feelin’ right now,” he admitted.

I furrowed my brow, utterly confused. “I’m not plannin’ on turning into a bigot. Are you?”

He sniffled and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “It’s not that. It’s…feeling like you’re not the kid your parents wanted. It hurts.”

I sobered and swallowed hard at the onslaught of fear and worries. Not new worries. More like, they shadowed me every fucking day.

“We gotta keep a close eye on things,” he said. “If Sandra can’t form a proper bond with the twins, she better fucking fake it like a pro.”

I wasn’t sure that was possible, but I’d thought in similar terms.

Either way, we would be ready.

“Between you, me, Nikki, and Haley, we’ll solve it like a family,” I said firmly. “But why would that piss me off? You said at the risk of pissing me off…”

He shrugged a little and nudged aside a pebble with his shoe. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna step on any toes, but I’m protective of those little shits too.”

I would’ve smiled like an idiot if I weren’t so worried about his well-being. I hated that he was suffering.

“They’re our kids, Jake. Always have been, in a way. They’ve been jumping between our laps since they could bounce on their diapered butts.”

He kept his focus on that little pebble on the ground, but I saw the faint smile that flitted past.

I wiped some raindrops from my forehead. I wanted to circle back to the whole shitshow we’d just left behind, at the same time as I reminded myself to pace shit according to what he wanted. He was processing. He was landing.

“Christ, I’m so goddamn annoyed.” He ran a frustrated hand through his dampening hair and looked out over the playground.

“Just annoyed?”

He huffed. “Annoyed at myself. For givin’ a fuck.”

That made all the damn sense. “One of the reasons I love you so much. But I get it. It’s always that way when your head and your heart say different things.”

“Mm.” He nodded once and put his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s… That’s the problem. It’s been what, over twenty years since I stopped going with Ma to church. Step by step, I distanced myself from all their shit—except…”

Except the things he hadn’t even noticed until he’d gone to therapy.

The little everyday stuff Haley had brought up.

It was difficult to see the bruise next to the open wound, but those bruises added up over time.

“I don’t even fucking like them,” he said irritably. “I haven’t enjoyed comin’ here in years. I haven’t missed them. Every time I had to talk to them, I postponed it for as long as I could. I don’t have the picture-perfect childhood memories to cling to either. I got those from my grandparents on Dad’s side and Grandpa on Ma’s. The summers in Florida…? That’s what I go back to when I reminisce. I avoid everything linked to this goddamn neighborhood.”

I exhaled in relief at hearing him vent. Venting was good.

I leaned against the side of the car and just listened.

“I shouldn’t fuckin’ care.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the curb. At the tiny weed coming up between the cement blocks. My gardener. “And still, I hear her voice in my head—tellin’ me I’m destroying your family with Sandra…”

Fuck. “That’s why I came running. Haley called and told me what your ma was screaming.” I clenched and unclenched my fists, then opened the car door on his side and reached for my backpack. I needed a cigarette. “Wretched motherfuckin’ bitch,” I muttered under my breath and lit up my smoke. “Baby—I’mma let you get your shit out, of course—but… And I get it. I get why you’re hearing her voice. Just—” Fuck! Now I couldn’t even form words? “I hope you don’t actually believe her. Logically, I mean. In your head.” I tapped my temple and took a drag from the smoke.

What the fuck? Amusement flashed by in Jake’s expression, and it didn’t make a lick of sense.

“What’s funny?” I demanded.

“You. When you get all ranty and Brooklyn heated. Your accent comes out, and you speak with your hands.”

I scowled at him. “Can we focus?”

That just made him smile, and he came over to me and cupped my face. “No, I don’t logically believe a word she says, darlin’. I’m a little dented, but I’ll recover. It’ll sting a while—and I’m gonna use it to make sure Callie and Adam never have to feel like there’s anythin’ wrong with them. Okay?”

Christ, I’d never deflated faster. Every ounce of tension drained out of me, and I hugged him.

“Don’t burn me with your cancer stick.”

“Shit, sorry.” I withdrew my arms. I’d obviously not been close to burning him, but he wasn’t overly fond of my occasional frustration smoke.

He chuckled. “I’m kidding—Christ. Hug me, my sexy New Yorker.”

Yeah, in a sec. I took a drag, then put it out. He’d robbed me of the frustrations anyway.

We sighed at the same time when we were back in each other’s arms.

He tightened his hold on me and buried his face against my neck. “Thank you for comin’ with me today.”

I reached up and kissed his temple.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “I know exactly what they’re doin’ right now.”

“Your folks?”

He nodded and eased away. “Ma will cry to herself and cook. Maybe clean the kitchen. Then go to church. Dad will go out and tinker with the car. And that’s it.” He glanced at me. “They’ll probably never talk about this again. Their dinners will get a little quieter, they’ll have even less to talk about, and they’ll go on like that till they die.”

That was fucking tragic.

I touched his scruffy jaw. “Meanwhile, when we get home, we’ll take the kids over to Culver City and fill a picnic table with food from every corner of the world. Colin will inhale his chicken yassa and keep trying to convince us to let him do a documentary with us. Casper will agree because he agrees with everything Colin says.”

We were trying to protect Colin. The little punk. He so badly wanted to be on TV with Dad and Uncle Roe—and film wild animals. We wanted to keep their faces off social media a while longer, and he just wasn’t a fan of that logic. After all, “I’m on your Instagram sometimes!” But that wasn’t the same thing. We chose angles where the kids’ faces weren’t the center of everyone’s attention.

Jake smiled and pressed his forehead to mine. “Callie will try to eat from Adam’s plate.”

Yeah, she always did that. Didn’t matter if we served the exact same food in the exact same spots on the plates. She went after her brother’s food, just dug her fist right in there.

I laughed silently. “Sam will try to teach her right.”

She was a good big sister.

Jake gave me another squeeze and kissed my neck. “I prefer our dinners, that’s for sure.”

Me too.

“I’m gonna be fine,” he murmured. “You know how I get. I brood a little—”

“A little?” I grinned and nudged him back so I could look him in the eye.

“I’ve gotten better,” he defended. He couldn’t hide the mirth.

“You have,” I conceded. I kissed his jaw. “You’ve realized that coming to me to talk actually works.”

“Sometimes too well,” he chuckled. “You make me feel so good that I agree to dumb shit like survival trips to Alaska in the middle of winter.”

Oh, pffft. It was gonna be like a honeymoon.

“It’s just a little snow.”

* * *

“Roe! Do you remember when you said it was gonna be just a little snow?” Jake yelled over the howling wind.

“You really wanna do this now?” I shouted back over my shoulder.

The bastard was getting it all on film too, because of our dumb bodycams. I had one strapped to my beanie, and Jake had his attached to his parka.

There would be bloopers.

How did one define a complete whiteout? Because I could barely see Kyle and Logan trudging through the snow ten feet ahead of me. They were our wilderness guides, currently showing us the way to our hunting cabin. We had to walk in each other’s footsteps because the snow was so deep.

Sometimes, I had genius ideas.

This wasn’t one of them.

Holy fuck, I was freezing.

The closer we got to the cliffs, the tip of the peninsula, the shorter the trees became around us. They couldn’t stand up against the harsh winds out here.

We arrived after what felt like three hours but was probably more like forty-five minutes, and I’d never been so torn between ice-cold and blazing-hot. My legs were fucking killing me, my fingers were icicles in my mittens, my body felt sticky with sweat, and I couldn’t feel my face.

I kicked snow off my boots and followed Kyle and Logan into the cabin, which really looked as nondescript as we’d been told. A wooden cabin with a single window, a stone fireplace, and stone floor. Absolutely nothing waited for us inside, beside some dried leaves and dust. I estimated the room was about twelve by twelve feet. The logs they’d built the cabin with were thick and solid, and I was sure we’d be all right once we got a fire running, but there really was nothing else. No insulation, no second layer of anything.

I removed my beanie and my face-covering, and I could practically read Kyle’s and Logan’s minds. They thought we were crazy. They probably thought we wouldn’t make it either.

“So…this is it,” Logan said.

“Looks g-great.” My teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

Jake came in last and closed the door, taking away most of the light. The little window next to the door wasn’t much help.

Logan flicked on his headlamp and angled it upward.

Okay, thanks.

Kyle eyed me skeptically. “Do you know how to use the flare gun?”

Right, he was immediately thinking about when we needed rescue.

“I put it in my mouth and pull the trigger,” I said.

Logan and Jake chuckled.

Whatever. I wasn’t entirely happy about coming off like a helpless city kid. I got it, I got it, Logan and Kyle did this professionally. They couldn’t be much older than Jake, maybe a couple years or so, but they exuded experience and didn’t wear brand-new clothes that’d been sponsored by a flashy brand. Kyle even wore boots that looked like they’d been handmade by Natives.

I was gonna prove myself, though. One month, let’s fucking go.

I was scrappy.

“Listen,” Logan said and removed his backpack. “We know y’all said you were gonna gather your own food and all, but it’s gonna be dark within the hour, and you’ll be busy collecting firewood.” He dug out a container and a paper bag and extended it to me. “It ain’t much, but you need to eat.”

I peered into the bag, and a delicious smell reached my nostrils. Some smoked meat?

“It’s caribou jerky,” Kyle said.

“And sandwiches.” Logan nodded at the container.

“Thank you,” Jake said with a nod. “We appreciate it.”

We’d actually brought a couple energy bars for our first night, though this certainly beat that. We’d packed insta-coffee for two cups too, and a fucking stick of butter. Because yeah, we needed fat, carbs, and protein.

Kyle and Logan went through our safety procedures once more, and we listened dutifully. We knew how to contact them in an emergency. We had a radio, we had the flare gun, we had a GPS tracker that could send a signal to them.

It wasn’t long before Jake and I were on our own, and my determination to show what I’d studied kicked in.

“You set up the cameras, and I will find firewood,” I said firmly.

“You sure?” He knitted his brows together. “Much of it is buried under three feet of snow.”

I didn’t care. He was the cameraman. That was his job. We needed one camera in here and one outside for our livestream, and he had to make sure the connection worked. I mean, that’d been the stipulation. We obviously needed to be able to stream the footage. But someone did live nearby; someone owned the land, and that someone was getting paid to host us.

“I’m sure. Let’s go—before we freeze our asses off. I don’t think you want me to lose mine.”

“I definitely don’t. It’s one of your best features.”

I laughed.

No, don’t laugh. Don’t fucking flirt. Game face on!

Right.

I put my beanie and face-covering back on, and then it was time to brave the cold. So help me God, I was gonna get a roaring fire going so I could sit down and eat a sandwich, caribou jerky, and inhale coffee with freaking butter from a pot.

Carving mugs wasn’t a priority.

I headed outside with our ax and told myself not to think. Just do. Tomorrow, I was gonna clear the snow somehow so we could walk easier around the cabin, but we didn’t have time for that now.

Our immediate surroundings consisted of a fuck-ton of trees, so I started breaking off twigs on one that’d fallen. This was the stuff that caught on fire easier. I reckoned we’d need time to dry the wood that was wet. Would that even work? No, wait. I read about this. I was supposed to gather as much as possible and find cover for it, so it could dry over time. Okay, okay, that was the plan.

It was a hellish workout, plain and simple. Luckily, we had access to more than one fallen tree, so not all wood was technically buried under snow. The cold wasn’t super-wet either, like we’d been warned.

I went to town with that fucking ax. Over and over, I let it come down on the tree until a seven-or-so-foot-long log thumped into the snow. Phew. Now I had to get the saw.

I was suddenly glad I’d been the one to pick out our cookware. One skillet and two pots, and one of them held two gallons. We were gonna need to wash off somehow. Melt snow, heat it up, get clean. Maybe a little nookie after that. Which reminded me…

I returned to the cabin with an armful of twigs and branches, and I hurriedly shut the door.

Jake looked up from our laptop.

“Did you attach the camera in here yet?” I asked, shuddering.

He pointed to the corner behind him.

I dumped the twigs in front of the fireplace before I trailed over to the corner and looked up. Aw, my man. I could count on him. He’d angled it perfectly.

“So, that corner over there won’t be visible, right?”

He smirked lazily. “I can’t go a month without getting my hands on you.”

I loved him. We had a make-out corner. A fuck corner. A nookie corner.

We were gonna survive.

* * *

After six days in the frozen wilderness, I was actually kinda loving life a little extra. It was rough as hell, and nobody liked to shit in the woods, much less in fourteen-degree weather, but I’d gotten a huge boost of confidence. I was ice fishing, chopping wood, carving little bowls and spoons, gutting fish, foraging, building traps, constructing minor bits and pieces of comfort—like a cutting board, a hook to hang a lantern, and a low table we used as a workbench outside.

Something that felt even better?

Jake’s eyes on me.

He behaved in front of the livestream cameras, but I felt him studying my every move here and there, to the point where I was convinced he was changing his view just a bit. I wasn’t the same reckless punk he’d met almost nine years ago.

He took a lot of pictures of me too. He did love his candids. Some of them were for promo later on as well.

Man, were there gonna be a lot of memory cards.

The minute-by-minute footage was gonna be a fucking chore to go through, and a lot would be deleted. One day’s worth of shooting would culminate in half an episode. We had a zone right outside the cabin that I kept cleared of more than a few inches of snow; the livestream camera captured everything we did there. Whenever we moved in and out of the cabin, when we chopped wood, worked on tasks, all of it.

“Jake! Are you back?”

I got down on my knees in front of the makeshift workbench outside the cabin and spread out today’s catch. Not all of it fit on the table, so I settled for a little bit of everything and left the rest on the ground. Get ready to be impressed, love. I’d been gone for a few hours, and I’d used Jake’s second camera to shoot. Hopefully, some of it was all right.

He was supposed to have come with me, but we really needed more meat, so he’d set out to trap grouse and ptarmigan. Two birds that were usually hunted with firearms, but they could be lured out and trapped as well.

The door opened, and Jake stepped out with a faint grin. “I was getting ready to go out and search for you. How did it go?”

“I foraged like a pro. Did you catch any birds?”

“Yeah, I learned why locals call them dumb chickens. Looks like we’ll eat tonight too.”

I grinned. Fuckin’ A.

“I’ll go grab the camera,” he said.

I nodded and returned to my task.

It wasn’t as windy today, and it hadn’t snowed since this morning. It might even be a few degrees warmer. Or, I was just sweaty from digging around the woods for hours.

Jake returned and eyed the table dubiously as he set up the camera on a tripod. “Uh, is any of that edible? Wait, you found wild onion?”

“Yeah, there’s a grove about a mile inland,” I said. “I guess it’s deep enough that it doesn’t get as cold. I found these in a thicket.”

He gave me a strange smile and got behind the camera. “Ready when you are, darlin’.”

Okay, let’s impress my man.

“Not only did we pick the worst season for survival in Alaska because it’s freezing cold and hunting season is over,” I started by saying. “It’s also the worst season to forage. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find edible things in the forest when there’s three feet of snow.” I gestured at my spread. “Jake asked me if any of this was edible, and I’m pretty sure it is. Otherwise, it’s been wonderful entertaining you all these years.”

Jake chuckled.

I started with the small items. “When you’re out in the cold, it’s more important than ever to eat because you burn more calories when you’re freezing. Unfortunately, in terms of emergencies and survival, you gotta lower your standards and take what the forest offers. In other words, drink your damn pine needle tea because it’s a vitamin C-rich immune system booster.” I set aside the pine needles and decided to save the pine bark for later, ’cause I was too excited for the main event. “Now, this.” I grabbed one of the many tuberous roots I’d gathered. “This is the root of a common cattail. And the winter is actually the best time to harvest this particular part of the plant. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s a natural starch from which you can make your own flour—or if you wanna bake it, boil it, have at it. I can’t promise a delicious loaf of bread in the morning, but I can turn grouse soup into a thicker stew, and it’ll carb up our diet perfectly.”

Jake looked up from the viewfinder with a pinch of wonder in his eyes.

Yeah, check me out, baby. I know survivalist shit.

* * *

Oh my God, that felt so good.

Religious experience.

Best ever.

Holy hell.

I yanked up my long johns, my pants, my thermals, and I felt so goddamn good—so relieved, so empty—and then I washed up and walked out of the bathroom.

Jake was just exiting the other one, and we stared at each other.

“I will never take a toilet for granted again,” I said.

“Me either. My legs feel like jelly.”

Amen.

We left the back of the diner and returned to our corner booth where two massive moose heads loomed over us. We didn’t even care the locals were staring. Enjoy the show, folks. They seemed to dislike city people in this village, and yet, they were strangely fascinated by us. Not much unlike Kyle. He and his man Logan were off charging our batteries for us.

Jake opened up our laptop.

In mere seconds, we’d see our kids’ faces pop up on the screen.

I couldn’t wait.

“How badly do you wanna order food?” I asked.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered. “The two men at the counter ordered bacon cheeseburgers, and I’m not saying I would give up my left nut for a burger, but throw in some fries and we’ll talk.”

My shoulders shook with laughter. God, I was so hungry. But we’d made a promise. We’d allowed ourselves to use the facilities and to drink coffee. That was it. A week without coffee, man…

“Here we go.” He shifted closer to me as we waited for the FaceTime call to connect.

I gave his leg a squeeze under the table.

The screen lit up, and fuck, so did we. All the kids were clowning around and trying to take up the most space in front of the camera. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. Adam was singing—sort of—and Callie was waving just like Sam was showing her how to.

Haley and Nikki were snickering in the background.

“Hi!” Colin dove forward and gave us a close-up of his little Jake Junior mug. “Are you surviving?!”

“Daddy, you gotta shave!” Casper laughed at me.

I grinned, unable to form a fucking word.

“You also, Daddy!” Sam guffawed.

Jesus, it’d only been a week. I had some scruff. Jake, on the other hand, was always scruffy, so he was quickly approaching beard territory.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have razors in the woods,” Jake chuckled. They should see us in two weeks when we’d lost a few pounds too. We weren’t itching for that part. “Are y’all bein’ good for your aunties and Mommy?”

“Yeah, and Aunt Mira is makin’ tacos tonight!” Colin replied triumphantly.

Jake and I groaned with envy.

* * *

Three weeks in, I wasn’t a fan of roughing it anymore. I’d proven myself enough. I had fucking bruises from Jake’s fingers digging into my hips.

I was sick of the cold, sick of the constant dampness, the snow, the sleet, the ice, the winds whipping me in the face, running a fucking marathon to perform a simple task, spending six hours checking traps and foraging for a single meal that still tasted like moss and pine needles.

It wasn’t like my hopes had been high to begin with. Jake and I were shit cooks. But I had studied so goddamn hard, and I’d wanted to put together a dinner that actually tasted okay. But nah. I’d done everything in my power. I’d demonstrated how to extract salt from ocean water, I’d made cattail flour, I’d cooked and pan-fried grouse, I’d foraged wild onion, some seeds and nuts, and the softer inner layer of pine bark. Last but not least, I’d made broth from leftover ptarmigan, and I’d stored all the fat to use for tonight’s stew.

Here I was, stirring a gooey fucking mess with a damn stick, and the taste was awful.

I had nothing left to add.

I cursed to myself and contemplated chucking it into the woods—but we needed to eat. This feast from hell had too many nutrients and good calories for us to waste it. Our only other alternative—the one we’d enjoyed the most but were sick of now—was fish. Plain, grilled fish with some wild onion and salt.

We’d had that almost every day for lunch. Fish was plentiful, and we had ten or fifteen in our storage box outside. If only we weren’t so fed up with fish.

“It smells good,” Jake offered.

I sent him a sideways look.

Yeah, well. It smelled better than it tasted.

“Were you able to restore the connection?” I muttered, changing the topic.

We’d been guaranteed internet connection even this far out, but if we’d learned one thing about Alaska, it was that there was no such thing as a guarantee in this state. Today, we’d been offline on and off.

“For the moment,” he replied. “We’re back online anyway.”

He sat in the makeshift bed we’d constructed, which I wouldn’t mind using as firewood. Jake had built the frame out of logs, and I had filled it with the softest material the forest had to offer—before putting our sleeping mats on top.

It sucked. It was lumpy and not at all like our bed at home.

Home.

“Darlin’, survival never tastes good,” he murmured. “As long as it fills our stomachs, we’re one day closer to postproduction.”

I sighed and rose from the ground. I’d give the stew another ten minutes on the fire, and then we’d have to force it down no matter what.

I flicked a glance at the livestream camera in the corner above Jake’s head. Maybe some viewers would get a laugh out of the whole thing. Or maybe they were bored. I didn’t know. Whenever we talked to the kids, Haley assured us our numbers were high, and I didn’t get it. Okay, so survival didn’t taste good? Survival wasn’t about living either. It was just about getting by.

Once we were back in LA, I’d see what a hit this show would be once more. I mean, I knew it would be. Survival shows were popular, and when you squeezed the funny bits out of forty-eight hours of footage, you actually got something worth watching for half an hour. But still. Those forty-eight hours were long.

“If they want another season, we’re picking an exotic island,” I said. “They can strand us in the Caribbean for a month.”

He chuckled and stood up with a grunt. Snow pants stayed on even indoors, despite the roaring fire. Undershirts and hoodies, long johns and soft-shell pants, then snow pants. Layers, layers, layers.

I was sick of layers!

I wanted sweatpants and cargo shorts. LA warmth and my man holding me when I slept.

“Lemme taste this stew,” he said. He bent down next to the fire and grabbed one of the spoons I’d carved.

“It’s your funeral.”

That stopped him in his tracks, and he straightened again. “Are you pouting?”

“No.” I wasn’t fucking pouting. Did I look like a five-year-old? I was…brooding.

“You’ve been off your game all day,” he noted.

I folded my arms over my chest, mindful of the damn camera. Thank fuck we didn’t share any audio.

“I miss you, okay?” I couldn’t help but get defensive. “We’re all alone in the middle of nowhere, literally, and we have to be more careful here than at home. It just takes a toll, that’s all.”

I’d feel better once we got back home, on so many levels.

“This isn’t a dig, in case you’re worried,” I had to add. That was the last thing I wanted him to think. I had patience in spades, and he’d made so much progress already. We’d delivered our first Haley-approved hint and all. We were on our way. I was very comfortable with our pace, which I told Jake now too.

He was still recovering from the shit with his useless parents.

“I’ve never once felt pressured by you, Roe,” he murmured. “I miss you too, though. Especially when we go to bed at night.”

I nodded with a dip of my chin. “It’ll get better. We have one week left.”

The corner of his lips turned up a bit. “What if we dropped another hint?”

I raised my brows. “Now?”

“Yeah.” He closed the distance between us and raised his hand, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. “Is this a hint?”

He drew a grin from me. The man always knew how to defrost me.

“Hints are supposed to be subtle.”

He hummed and stepped even closer to me. The humor faded from his eyes, and he ghosted his thumb over my bottom lip.

“I’m sick of subtle.”

Shit. I mean, fuck. If he wasn’t ready, he shouldn’t be—

“I don’t wanna hide anymore, Roe. I’ve done that enough in my life.” He rested his forehead to mine, and my mouth went dry. My heart started beating faster. “When we land at LAX next week, I wanna be able to walk out of there and hold your hand.”

I swallowed hard, all the longing washing over me. “Me too.”

“Good,” he whispered. Then he kissed me, and all future hints were canceled. We were out. “Think about what you wanna eat when we get out of here. I’m taking you to dinner.”

I smiled into the kiss and hugged his middle.

He cupped my cheeks and deepened the kiss.

“I don’t care,” I managed to say. Because I really fucking didn’t. All that mattered was us. “You choose. You can get me a hot dog at a damn country concert for all I care.”

He chuckled and nipped at my lip. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Well…

Jake decided to go all out on the cheesiness. He started humming a song from the country show that’d been cut short for our San Diego adventure, and he grasped one of my hands in his. His low, whiskey-like yet gentle voice flooded my senses. And the lyrics. It was the one song I’d really liked. About being a riser, a get-up-off-the-ground-don’t-run-and-hider, a fighter… A survivor.

“Kiss me again, you corny fuck.”

He smiled and obliged.

And we slow danced while the wind howled outside.

* * *

Haley Denver

I folded one leg over the other and shook my head in amusement. I scrolled and I scrolled; I would never reach the bottom, would I? Instagram, Facebook, our YouTube comments… Hell, articles were already being pushed out. I had eight tabs up on my computer, and that was only the beginning.

“Do you need anything else from me, Haley?”

I looked over my shoulder and spotted Mai in the doorway. “Oh no, you head on home, hon. See you tomorrow.”

Then it was just me in the office, which suited me fine. I wasn’t meeting up with Nikki and the kids until after they’d had dinner.

I took a sip of my tea and went back to Twitter to check out another hashtag on my list. The people who used it were Jake and Roe’s most female-focused demographic.

The tweets were pouring in.

#StreamingAboutJayroe I AM NOT WELL. I won’t be until we have a fandom. Make it happen.

Can we talk about this?!?! We called this four freaking years ago! #StreamingAboutJayroe

AND THEN THEY DANCED. #StreamingAboutJayroe THE SLOW DANCE, Y’ALL. I DIE.

Find someone who looks at you the way Jake and Roe look at each other. #StreamingAboutJayroe

Jayroe is happening. #StreamingAboutJayroe

Sorry, boss, I can’t come in to work tomorrow, I will be busy watching two guys in a remote cabin in Alaska. #StreamingAboutJayroe

I’m just #StreamingAboutJayroe. That’s the tweet.