“Thank you, Dr. Marcano.”
“I don’t need a psychology degree to know it. You know it, too.”
He let out a tired sigh. “Look, it doesn’t matter why—”
“It’s going to affect more than just you.”
“Ah, Izzy, you might as well move to Captivity. You sound exactly like everyone else there.”
“This is not me standing up for my self-interests. Believe me”—a hollow laugh escaped her throat at the same time tears stung her eyes—“none of what I’m saying is in my interest.”
“Then stop saying it,” he begged. “Just help me do the deal.”
Her stomach went into a swan dive and pulled her heart along for the ride. When it hit bottom, it was going to hurt. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate. “I can’t. I can’t be a party to this. I’m sorry. Talk to Bridget. Talk to Lilah. Spend some time reflecting on your own motives, and the fact that selling out won’t bring Shay back. If you’re still determined to move forward after doing all that, call Chuck. Ask him to find someone else.”
“Izzy, please. Don’t blow this up. I’ll be back in three hours. Maybe four. Just wait.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated and disconnected. Just in time. Everything inside her shattered.
…
Trace helped unload his passenger’s bags—the three summer trail guides packed a fuckton of luggage—and carry them into the terminal. All the while he tried not to let his impatience to be on his way show. Wing had pulled one of the Yukons around front so they could load bags and passengers and get the guys to their rental house. Trace could have kissed him on the mouth for that small, time-saving effort. Wing also stuck around to help load bags. As they muscled a trunk that would make Izzy’s look like a carry-on into the truck, he asked, “Where’s Bridget?”
“She’s handling a charter,” Wing said. “Some Mounties on leave decided to give Big Kat a go.”
“Early in the season for that. They know what they’re doing?”
“Seemed like. They had the right gear. Plus, the weather looks good for the next couple days. Bridge took her gear and will keep ’em out of trouble.”
He sent Wing a sharp look. “My sister is on a climb with a bunch of guys nobody knows from Adam?”
Wing shook his head. “Two chicks and three guys. Welcome to the twenty-first century, boss. Mounties—not just men anymore.”
Rightly or wrongly, that made him feel marginally better, but so much for talking with her anytime soon. “Key?”
“At the inn with Lilah. Bridge didn’t know what time you’d make it back and didn’t want to leave him cooped up in the house.”
He mentally acknowledged the additional stop he’d have to make, but appreciated his sister not leaving him with a cleanup job. “Where’s Mad?”
Wing gave him a funny look. “He flew Izzy out.”
What? He froze midway through lifting a smaller bag into the truck. “Flew Izzy out where?”
Wing stopped, too, and turned fully to him. “He flew Izzy to Juneau, so she could catch her flight to Seattle, and then to L.A. Some kind of work emergency.” He frowned. “She said she spoke to you.”
Yeah, they’d spoken all right, but for some stupid reason he hadn’t realized she’d intended to leave. “I wasn’t sure exactly what her plans were when we spoke,” he managed through a tight throat. All the impatience zipping through him over the last several hours leaked away, leaving him tired and…empty. Dismally empty.
She’s gone.
Get her back.
How? You lied to her to avoid precisely the confrontation you ended up having, only a thousand times worse than if you’d simply leveled with her at the outset. You abused her trust and jeopardized something she’s worked most of her life to earn. Why would she talk to you again?
He didn’t know. All he knew was he’d have to find a way. Losing her, like this? He couldn’t let it happen.
Wing volunteered to take care of the plane, which gave Trace more opportunity to consider his win-her-back options while he drove the guides to their rental, unloaded bags, and made sure they knew how to get to the general store and the post office. It never failed to amaze him how these kids could survive a week in the wilderness with nothing but a shoelace and a gum wrapper but couldn’t find their way around a town the size of Captivity without detailed instructions and a map app. Competence truly was situational.
None of it helped him solve the Izzy situation. He called her from the privacy of his car, got her voicemail, but opted not to leave her a pointless, rambling message. Determined, driven Izzy could stand firm when she wanted to. He wasn’t going to be able to change her mind via voicemail. Not feeling especially up to a confrontation with Rose, but not willing to leave Key kenneled all night and go home to an empty house, he pulled up in front of the inn. Normally, he might swing into the Goose first for a meal, but through the front windows he could see Rose, Jorg, and Hoop’s husband, Carl, sitting at the bar while Ford served up beers. He could be in and out of the inn with Rose none the wiser and avoid questions he didn’t want to answer about why Izzy had suddenly checked out and flown home. Committed to that plan, he hustled into the inn and greeted Peter at the reception desk. “Rumor has it, Key’s in the house?”
The older man nodded and opened the pass-through. “Lilah took him to the dog run. Go on back.”
Perfect. He could take Key directly from the run to the car without going through the inn. Crossing the empty kennel, he opened the door to the fenced-in dog run and took a moment to watch Lilah toss a Kong to Key. He jumped like a champ, but the toy bounced off his snout when he tried to catch it in his mouth. Upon landing, he gave an under-the-breath bark that sounded exactly like Fuck! and chased after the rolling sphere.
“We’ll work on it,” Lilah said, smiling as Key brought it back to her. The dog scented him, or sensed him, and bounded over—all happy barks and lolling tongue. “Hey, boy. Hi, Lilah.” Trace braced for a hundred plus pounds of canine adoration and patted his chest. Key came up on his hinds, planted his front paws on Trace’s shoulders, and snuggled his furry face against Trace’s beard. He withstood a couple sloppy licks and then ordered the dog down. Key trotted back to Lilah, nosed the front of her baggy fleece hoodie, and howled, “Aaaay!”
The familiar band of grief tightened around his chest, but he dredged up a head shake and tried to make light of it. “No, dummy. That’s Lilah.”
“Aaaay!” Key insisted and pranced around her. “Ri-rah!”
Lilah, Trace now noticed, turned pale and shot him a distinctly nervous glance. Izzy’s words from last night replayed in his mind. Just sit down with her somewhere private and tell her I suggested she had news she ought to share with you. Maybe doing what Izzy had asked of him represented step one of getting her to come back? He literally had nothing to lose by trying.