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“I haven’t figured that part out yet. But I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
She hated the pity in his eyes. She dropped her gaze down to her plate.
“You can’t stay here, Carly. It’s not healthy for Sam.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“He shouldn’t breathe in kerosene fumes. It’s not good for dogs... or wolves, for that matter. It will be almost impossible to ventilate your apartment properly. Secondly, Sam needs space to run. He’s going to get a lot bigger before he finishes growing, and your apartment is just too small for him. He’ll be unhappy there.”
Carly hadn’t thought of that. She wondered what had changed Justin’s mind about Sam. Whatever had caused it, she appreciated the kindness.
“You’ll run out of bottled water very quickly. If you give him unfiltered water from a creek or river, he could get sick. He could get parasites, and you can’t take him to a vet.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” Carly had lost her appetite. She poked at the oatmeal with her spoon.
Justin sipped his coffee. As he did, the sleeve of his T-shirt slipped up, and she got a good look at the tattoo on his upper arm. It was a snake wrapped around a lightning bolt. “You were in Iraq?” she asked, surprised.
Justin froze. “How did you know that?”
“Your tattoo. My dad had a ring with the same symbol on it. He said it was the symbol of his army unit or something like that. He was in the first Gulf War.”
Justin looked at her sharply. “You said your last name was Daniels? Was your dad Carl Daniels?”
Carly nodded, her eyes wide. “Did you know him?”
“Not well. He was getting ready to retire when I joined up.” Justin shook his head. “Small world, huh?”
“I guess so.” Carly was remembering what her dad said to her once about the symbol; any man who wore it was like a brother to him, someone she could trust or rely on for help. “Is my dad why you’re here?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t know.” Justin poured more coffee into her cup and then topped off his own cup. “But now that I do know, I can’t just leave you here. You understand that, right?”
Carly cursed herself for saying anything. The firmness in his tone told her he wasn’t going to let this go easily. “What do you want, Justin? Why are you camped out in front of my apartment?”
“I told you why I’m here; I wrote it on the sign. I just wanted to talk to you. You’re the only sane human being I’ve seen in weeks.”
“You’re not from here, though, are you?”
He shook his head. “I’m from Nebraska, actually. Omaha. I was up here for the Deadhorse Rally. I got here earlier than expected and decided to take a detour and explore a bit.”
Justin was referring to the annual motorcycle ride from Fairbanks to Deadhorse, a town on the northern coast of Alaska, the most northern point on the North American continent riders could reach. It was supposed to be one of the most challenging and scenic rides in America.
“Where’s your bike?” Carly asked.
“I left it in Haines when I took the ferry here.” The ferry was the only way to reach Juneau as none of Alaska’s eleven highways led to the town. He smiled, and it was a bit wistful. “This is a beautiful area. For all the tourists you get, the forests are practically pristine.”
“I’m sorry about your bike.” Carly knew some riders were attached to their motorcycles the way car buffs cherished a classic automobile.
Justin merely shrugged. “I couldn’t ride it now, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Too loud. Everyone for miles can hear you coming.”
“The ferry isn’t running, so I’m stuck here.” Carly was relieved, in a way. It was a decision she didn’t have to make.
“You’re not stuck. There are plenty of boats. You could take one all the way down the coast.”
“To where? I have nowhere else to go.”
