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And then this jacket.

Cool forest and clean stone. I’d know that smell in the dark. Like a lunatic, I check my tiny one-room apartment to make sure I’m alone, and bury my face in the folds of the fabric. Three seconds pass before the mortification kicks in.

“Okay,” I say out loud, to an empty room. “It’s obviously been way too long since you got laid, Ellery.”

I fold it carefully and lay it over the back of a dining chair, so I remember to return it to him on Monday. Something crinkles in the pocket. Before my morals get a say, my hand’s inside. A couple of fire starters, unopened. Unbelievable. And a slip of paper.

A receipt from Kodiak Cold Storage and Distribution for 1,600 units. No product name or description, just a number and a date and a signature I can’t read. Sixteen hundred units of what? For a tour company that serves cocoa and reindeer hot dogs to a handful of tourists each night, that’s a lot of stock. And I’d assumed Marthe was ordering all the supplies for the guest refreshments since the cafe provides them.

Nothing on the back.

It has to be catering stock or fuel, or some Alaska thing I don’t understand. I mean, I guess you have to buy in bulk when you’re out here in the middle of nowhere.

I put it back exactly where I found it.

Then, because I have no self-control, I search for Kodiak Cold Storage and Distribution on my phone. Anchorage. Cold chain logistics for clinical and laboratory clients. A stock photo of a warehouse and a phone number, and nothing anywhere that explains what a tour company would do with sixteen hundred of anything.

Maybe I should return the jacket now? He probably needs it. The nights have been brutal, and the man insists on driving with the windows down like he’s got something to prove to the weather.

That’s the reason. That’s the whole reason.

It’s a jacket. I’m returning a jacket, not asking him to prom.

I knock with it folded over my arm, so it’s plain to see I have a reason to be here.

The door swings wide, and it’s the wrong brother.

“Ellery.” He’s holding a video game controller in one hand and an enormous soda cup in the other. Behind him, there’s a coat stand in the hall, a pair of boots, and nothing else. No potted plants or pictures, just bare walls. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“I came to return a jacket.” I hold it up as proof.

“Boring. He’s not here, but if you’d like to wait, you’re most welcome. He’s at some clan thing. I’m sure he won’t be long.”

Again with the clans. Strange.

“Um, that’s fine. You can give it to him.”

“You sure? He’ll be sorry he missed you. He’s been in a mood and won’t say why.” There’s mischief there that I’m not going to touch.

“Thanks, but I’ve endured my quota of your brother’s moods for the week.” I hold out the jacket.

“Right.” The edge of a smirk lifts the side of his mouth. He awkwardly takes it in the same hand as the soda cup, squeezing it too hard, and I cringe when red soda leaks from the straw and drips over the collar. Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he hangs it on the rack beside the door. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“No need. Catch you later.” Back on the street, I get about four steps before I work out that I’m disappointed, which is worse than being nervous. I set my mind on finding something to distract myself with at the bookstore.

“Ellery?”

It takes a second for my feet to register my name.

Nick. Coming up the sidewalk from the opposite direction, too tall and closing the distance.

“I brought your jacket back.” It comes out in a rush, like I’ve been caught red-handed. I twist my ring around on my finger. “I gave it to Luca. He might’ve spilled soda on it. Sorry.”

“Of course he did.”

We stand there on the path and he gets this look he has sometimes, like I refused to be what he expected and he hasn’t decided where to put me.

“I should—” I gesture vaguely toward the rest of my life. “See you Monday.”