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“Last year.”
“That close to town?” Her tone betrays her concern. Even if she pretends she hates this town, I know deep down she cares about it and the people in it.
Caribou Creek is our home. The place we were both born and raised. The setting of our love story. I clear my throat, shoving down everything sentimental and mutter out a response as we descend. “Some jackass tourist started a campfire when we were in a drought.”
She grips the purse in her lap so tightly her knuckles turn white. “The whole town could’ve burned down.”
“Yeah.” It took every able-bodied man and volunteer firefighter, plus a couple smokejumper crews out of Fort Wainwright, to get it knocked down. And then impossibly long shifts of hotspotting before we even got to the mop up. It was a long fucking week. If it hadn’t been for Gran, I doubt I would’ve eaten more than beef jerky.
“Mason, I owe you an ap—”
The wheels hit solid ground, jerking the plane a bit. Interrupting the apology Willow was about to make. Though she owes me one, I’m not letting her off the hook that easy. Her apology doesn’t mean shit until she sees the full damage her abrupt departure caused. I’m not the only one in town she hurt.
“Mason—”
“Look,” I say, turning my tone to ice though it fucking kills me. “Last night was just a good fuck. What we both needed to get each other out of our system.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes, making me feel like the asshole I am. But I know Willow inside and out. If I cave too easily, she’ll take me and this town for granted once again and run off the first chance she gets. She hardens her expression, staring straight ahead at the couple of vehicles waiting. “That’s all it was then?”
“Now we can stay out of each other’s way until you leave.” I turn my frigid stare on her. “You aren’t staying, are you?”
“No.”
After we roll to a complete stop, I cut the engine. I’m hardly out of the plane before Gran comes rushing up. For a woman nearing eighty, her power walking skills are impressive. She’s wearing her purple track suit and a fake smile no one in their right mind would trust. To say she has some opinions about Willow Gray’s abrupt exit is an understatement.
“I was so worried about you!” She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes tight, her head hardly reaching my lower chest. I hug her back.
“Just some unexpected weather, Gran.”
With another squeeze and a wiggle, she lets go. “People disappear that way, you know.”
The exaggerated concern in her voice is no doubt from binge-watching Alaska reality shows. For a woman who’s lived here all her life, she’s sure obsessed with those. Even if most of them are dramatized and unrealistic. “I thought you had a bridge game last night.”
“I didn’t go. I was too sucked in to watchingDisappearing in Alaska. Besides, ever since Rose won—” Gran’s sentence drops off the second she catches sight of Willow coming around the plane. “You.”
“Hi, Maggs.”
“Oh no.” Gran waggles an enthusiastic finger. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. It’s Mrs. Reid.”
Willow flinches, as though she’d been slapped. It took years for Gran to grant Willow permission to call her Maggs. Not until after we were engaged. Out of everyone in Caribou Creek that Willow hurt, Gran will be her biggest challenge. “I’m sorry—”
“There you are.” Kinley Gray, one of Willow’s sisters, marches up to the plane. She looks almost as peeved as Gran. “Do youowna phone?”
“Yes—”
“Did you think to check in? Tellanyoneyou were coming?” Kinley snaps. “I had to find out you were stranded from Hattie Kohl at the diner. I didn’t even know if you’d left LA or were coming at all.”
“That’s not fair,” Willow interjects, pulling her phone out of her purse. Reminding me of the way I found her in the air terminal yesterday.
“You were on the phone when I found you yesterday. Just whowereyou talking to then if not your family?” I shouldn’t care, but the question slips out anyway. Because it was either some boy toy back in the city or someone involved with her acting career. I’ve been curious since the moment she ended that call but didn’t want her to know I cared.
“My agent,” she answers, narrowing her gaze at her sister, but refusing to look at me.Interesting.
“Lining up another hemorrhoid cream commercial?” Gran cackles.
Willow looks scandalized, and it takes every ounce of fight to keep a smile off my lips. To continue playing the asshole.
“A movie role, actually. The lead.”
