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“He said you were thinking of retiring.”
He takes a long, deep breath. “Considering it. It’s been a long thirty years. Wouldn’t mind taking a bit of a rest.” He pauses, and then asks, “You tired?”
“Not really. I had a nap this afternoon.” That Benadryl knocked me out. Thankfully, the swelling has not expanded beyond the blue ink lines I drew.
“I’ve got some movies over there in the cupboard. They’re old, but they’re some of my favorites.”
Is my dad asking me to watch a movie with him in a roundabout way? Is this Wren Fletcher, trying to get to know his daughter again?
“I could go and pick one for us to watch,” I say, tentatively.
“Yeah? Well, okay then.”
I shut down my laptop and cast it aside, and then head for the corner cabinet.
But not before catching the small smile of satisfaction touching my dad’s lips.
Chapter 13
I stir to the distant sound of someone knocking.
A moment later, the knock sounds again, only it’s more like pounding.
And it’s on my bedroom door.
I push off my eye mask and squint against the glow of sunlight from around the edge of the curtains. “Yeah?” I call out, my voice hoarse with sleep.
There’s no answer, only more knocking. It’s an urgent sound, and it puts me on edge.
I wrestle with my covers to free myself and stumble for the door, throwing it open.
Jonah is filling the doorway.
“What’s wrong? Is my dad okay?” I ask in a panic, searching the hall for any signs of him.
He stares hard at me for a long moment, his gaze skating over my features.
“Jonah?”
He blinks several times. “So this is what you look like, without all that shit on your face.”
I sigh with exasperation. “I’m not in the mood for your crap this early. What do you want? Where’s my dad?”
Jonah’s eyes drop to my chest, reminding me that I’m in a cotton tank top, braless. And the air is crisp.
I fold my arms across myself reflexively, even as a strange shiver dances along my skin.
His gaze snaps up. “He had to fly to Anchorage. I thought you’d be up.”
I study those glacier-blue irises for a moment. They look somehow darker. Heated. Is he . . . turned on? “We stayed up late to watch a movie and then I couldn’t fall asleep. What time is it, anyway?”
“Seven. Get dressed. You’re flying today.”
That pulls me out of whatever fog I’m trapped in. “I’m what?”
“It’s a clear day and your dad wants you to see more of Alaska. You’ve been here three days already. It’s time you get in a plane.”
“With you?” I say doubtfully.
