As time passed after he first left Alaska, and I never heard from Nick, I slowly locked away a part of my heart that was reserved just for him—that perfect memory of first love that hadn’t been tarnished by anything else in my life. When Nick did reach out, when he contacted me about coming to Vegas, I opened the door to that protected space and took a chance.
I faced Nick expecting to be swept away on a tide of emotion. But when my heart flipped on the rocks this time, at least I managed to walk away without any physical scars. I just added to my collection of emotional ones.
My brother willingly bore the brunt of my devastation, keeping me and Nick separated for years—maybe too many—in his effort to protect me from further heartache. Now, as every critical word I uttered to Jed about Nick over the years that he didn’t rebuke floats through my head, all I can think is, what a waste. All of it.
Jed.
Nick.
And the years I spent pining for something I knew I’d never have a chance at. Ever.
Because the reality is that while Jed died three years ago, a large part of me died well before that. And because I tried to use one man to forget another, I ended up wounding more than just my heart. I ended up drowning my future not far from where I’m standing.
“I’ll be back soon.” I tell my brother. “I need to get to work.”
I can practically feel the disapproval radiating off the rock. “Listen, if you didn’t want me running the Brewhouse, you shouldn’t have left the thing to me. It’s always belonged to a Smith.” My bitter laugh escapes along with a new passel of tears. “Wait, what am I saying? You left Grandpa’s cross to Nick. Why didn’t you leave him the bar too? That would have capped the whole thing off nicely.”
Turning away, I get a few steps away before a gust of wind whips me around to face my brother one last time. Shoving my dark hair off my face, I clearly enunciate. “I love you, Jed. I always will. Even after everything, I’m not entirely certain I’ll understand you. I wish I could.” The wind stops swirling. “Kiss everyone hello for me. I’ll be back soon.”
And I turn away from where my brother asked to be returned to his final resting place—a small plot by the sea—and make my way down the street.
It’s time to go to work. Since everyone else has moved on, I find it’s the safest thing to live for now.
“What do you mean we’re out of the IPA?” I drop my head back and roll my head back and forth. “Didn’t the shipment come in today?”
My bartender shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Lovely. Let me go up to the office and check on it. Are we missing anything else?” Just as the words come out of my mouth, my chef comes out from the kitchen holding handfuls of rotted produce.
“I can’t work with this, Maris.” She shakes it in front of me. Her white knuckles start to unclench.
“If a single piece hits the floor while we have customers in here, you’ll be looking for a new job,” I warn the temperamental woman.
“I simply cannot work with subpar ingredients.”
“And you know Skagway’s beer is the popular item on the menu.”
“Stop, both of you! Give me a few minutes to fix the problems before you keep kvetching at me,” I snap. When they finally quiet, I race up the stairs to where my office is located—a converted apartment where I used to crash when nights were too much at the family home.
“If this is how the night is going to go, I’m moving to Vienna. There’s a beautiful glacier there I can stare at—no, walk on! And men with accents. And chocolate, lots of delicious chocolate.” Reaching my office, I slam the door for two blessed minutes of privacy while I work out how to fix this issue without bankrupting myself.
Just then, my cell phone rings. If it wasn’t for the fact it’s Kara Malone Jennings, my best friend and former sister-in-law, I’d ignore it. But I’m certain I know why she’s calling. I answer her question without her saying a word. “I’m fine.”
“Try that with someone who didn’t live through this with you.” I hear her sniff into a tissue.
I can’t refute her words. I just listen to her tears, her grief, and wish I could get to the stage where that’s all I felt. But— “God, Kara, I’m so angry today.”
“Why?”
“Because everything’s a mess.” I give her a quick rundown of what’s happening at the Brewhouse. “And I…” I’m ashamed to admit the last.
“What else, Maris?”
I hesitate before answering. “I yelled at Jed today.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“It’s healthy.”
“Yelling at my dead brother is healthy?”
“Sure it is.”
“What makes you say that, oh wise one?”
“Well, first of all, it saves you from taking it out on me,” she retorts.
“Fair.” Even as we both giggle, I reach for a tissue to mop up my tears and mingled snot. “What’s second?”
“Do you really think the letters I’ve written to Dean over the years have been all sunshine and happiness? All good news? I’m so freaking pissed at him right now. Especially now.”
“Why now?”
“Crap. I was going to wait to tell you until tomorrow.”
“Tell me,” I demand.
“No. It’s a bad enough day.”
“Kara, I swear to God…”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.
You could hear a pin drop between us. “You’re…what?” I don’t recognize my voice. It sounds like someone just shoved a knife in my chest and I’m bleeding out.
Because maybe I am.
“Maris, I’m so happy, and so…heartbroken.”
“No. You don’t get to be sad. Not unless it’s because you won’t have a chance to break Dean’s hands again in the delivery room. Then you can be sad. It’s a fucking miracle you’re carrying,” I hiss.
Kara begins to sob quietly. “I know. I just… I’d give anything…”
I practically choke trying to get out, “I know. But that’s not the hand I’ve been dealt, right? And I can only play the hand I have.”
A hard silence stretches out between us. “And here I can’t even celebrate by lifting up a glass of our best IPA,” I finally manage to tease.
“Why not?”
After outlining the issues, Kara says, “Hold on.” Then I hear her yell, “Jennings! Pick up the phone!”
“What? Kara, no.” But it’s too late. Kara’s husband, John Jennings, has already lifted the receiver.
“Everything okay?”
“Maris didn’t get a delivery. Is anyone on a run to Alaska?” Kara asks as if it’s an everyday occurrence for her to order her husband around the fiftieth state for my supplies like it’s her local grocery.
“Jasper is. He’s running cargo up. What do you need, Maris?”
“I can’t ask a favor this big, Jennings,” I protest.
“There is no favor too big or small you couldn’t ask us,” he reassures me. “Now, just tell me where Jas needs to go.”