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“No, I named her that because she’s the chillest dog I’ve ever known. Nothing rattles her.”
“Then she’s a good one to have along. And who’s this handsome black and white boy with the blue eyes?”
“That’s my yearling, the newest addition to the team. He’s from Aleu’s last litter. I call him Diggy because, well, he loves to dig.”
At the sound of his name, Diggy clambered over Norte and stuck his head between their seats. His big tongue flopped out of his mouth in a doggie grin.
Laughing, she one-handedly shoved him back before he trampled poor Norte. “He's a doofus, but he’ll be a lead dog someday. He's strong and he’ll run for days. Same with Moonbeam. She's not leader material— she’s too much of an airhead— but she’s fantastic in wheel.”
“Wheel?”
“The dogs closest to the sled. They have to be even-tempered and agile, so they don’t get spooked by the sled running right behind them. Chilly and Moonbeam are my wheel dogs. They’ll both happily pull until their paws fall off if I let them. Aleu and Norte are my leads. Diggy and Indigo are my swing dogs—the dogs behind the leaders who help steer around corners. All the rest are team dogs.”
“We’ll need them when we find Dr. Will.”
Ellis turned in his seat to face her. “You light up when you talk about them.”
She averted her gaze from his and focused on the horizon. Why did such a simple observation make her so uncomfortable? “I love them. They’re my world.” Her voice sounded too raw, too vulnerable. She cleared her throat and added more matter-of-factly, “We’ll need them when we find Dr. Will. Each dog can pull eighty-five pounds or more on their own. If he’s hurt or—”
“You're so sure we will find him.”
“And you're so sure we won’t.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It's not the first time he's disappeared. He’ll only be found if he wants to be. Or when he sobers up enough, whichever happens first.”
“I told you, he—”
“Yeah, yeah. He's sober, working the program. I’ll believe that when I see it. And even then, maybe not. He’s good at pretending.”
“Why do you hate him?” Maybe it was bold of her to ask, but she was curious. She knew what a horrible parent looked like. She’d lived with two of them until she was sent off to live in a home for the unwanted children of the rich. William Hunter was far from perfect, but he wasn’t evil. “He’s your father.”
Ellis scoffed. “No. He’s a sperm donor. Fathers take care of their children. They don’t drink themselves into oblivion and leave their oldest son to raise their bastards and take care of their business.”
So much venom. “I acknowledge it must have been hard growing up with him, but at least he loves you. At least he tried. At least, at heart, he's a good man.” Which was more than could be said for her parents. The only decent thing they’d ever done for her was die and leave her enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life.
Given the choice, she would’ve preferred parents who actually loved her like Dr. Will loved his boys.
“I don’t hate him. It's indifference.” Ellis’s tone was blasé, but his body language changed again. He tensed up, closed up, turned away from her and stared out the windshield at the brightening sky on the horizon. “How long until we reach Solitaire?”
Uh-huh. Changing the subject. There was a lot more than indifference there, and he didn't want to talk about it. “About an hour.”
“And I assume— since you’re you— that you have an itinerary for when we get there?”
She wouldn’t take offense to that subtle jab. He was just trying to bait her, make her angry so she’d forget about her questions.
“Only an idiot would go into the bush without a plan,” she said sweetly.
“Only an idiot would go into the bush looking for a man who doesn’t want to be found,” he shot back. “But here we are.” He dragged his rucksack up and propped it against the window. “Wake me when we get there.”
“Asshole.” She said it under her breath, but she was sure the mic picked it up and transmitted it to his earphones because he yanked them off.
Bree released a pent-up breath. Calling him had been a massive mistake.
8
At the bleat of an alarm, Ellis bolted from sleep. It was a trick he’d learned in the military—coma to alertness in a heartbeat. “What’s that?”
Brielle hit a switch and the alarm silenced. “Nothing.”
