Running Wild: A novel

by K. A. Tucker

  Will he come?

  “That’s because you haven’t been here in a while,” Toby chides softly.

  “I guess I haven’t.” Not since the wedding on New Year’s Eve, when a team of ambitious women, led by Calla’s mother, transformed this shabby place into a sophisticated reception hall that could rival any rustic-themed magazine spread, teeming with copper and crystal and flowers and candlelight. “I’ve been busy.”

  “As long as that’s all it is.” His gentle gray eyes leave the pint glass he’s filling for just a second to meet mine, the unspoken question in them.

  Toby and I went on two official dates last year, and then we didn’t go on any more. There weren’t any awkward conversations, any “it’s not you, it’s me” excuses. I’m not sure if Toby felt anything for me, but I didn’t feel anything beyond friendship for him, and I think he figured that out when I deftly avoided a good-night kiss.

  I think he also figured out where my heart loitered, struggling to let go.

  But friends, we’ve remained, because I enjoy his easygoing demeanor.

  “That’s all it is. I promise.”

  The door creaks, and I swivel on my bar stool to check the newcomers. I don’t recognize them. Fishermen, from the lower forty-eight, probably.

  “Who are you expectin’?” Toby asks.

  “No one.”

  “Is that why you look so nice tonight? For no one?”

  “I look the same as I always do.” Except with makeup and an attempt at loose waves and a casual black summer dress that I reserve for nights out—few and far between.

  “And you keep lookin’ at the door.”

  I suck back a gulp of beer to avoid answering, earning his chuckle.

  Toby’s father, Teddy, waddles over to this side of the bar, his thumbs hooked behind his orange suspenders, his frown aimed across the room. “How old is Agnes’s girl again?”

  As if part of a perfectly timed stage production, Muriel barrels through the saloon doors with a rack of freshly washed beer glasses in her grip, catching his question. “Mabel is fourteen, and she’s gonna be puttin’ some time in around here this summer, so learn her name, would ya?”

  Fourteen, though she could easily pass for sixteen, with her tall, graceful figure and the sleek new bob that highlights an emerging angular jawline. As childhood gives way to adulthood, it’s evident that she’s inherited a flattering mix of both Agnes and her father, a pilot who died in a crash a few months before she was born.

  “Around here?” Teddy threads his fingers through his long white beard, a core part of his costume when he plays Santa at the town Christmas party every year. “Doin’ what?”

  The glasses clang noisily as she drops them onto the counter. “Cleanin’ rooms and stayin’ out of trouble.” And nothing in Muriel’s tone suggests that’s up for discussion. She’s already decided.

  I watch the trio behind the bar. I knew the McGivneys were my kind of people the moment I saw the All Dogs Welcome mat outside the front door. I realize now how much I’ve missed them.

  This.

  Maybe I have unintentionally made myself too scarce around here.

  Muriel’s shrewd gaze passes over me. “You look extra lovely tonight, Marie.” As quickly as she swooped in, she strolls away, her wide hips swinging with each step.

  Toby smirks knowingly at me.

  “Oh, I remember the kind of trouble you teenagers were.” Teddy waggles his finger at his son and warns, “Don’t serve her. She’s underage.”

  “I’ll try my best not to.” Toby shakes his head at his father’s back, earning my chuckle. He leans his bulky frame over the bar. “Hey, so I heard through the grapevine that the Hatchetts found themselves a new veterinarian.”

  I’m caught off guard. Sometimes I forget how small the mushing community is. And how loud a tiny woman like Bonnie Hatchett can be. I didn’t want to talk about this tonight, but I’ve complained to Toby about that situation before. “Yup. A four-decade relationship down the toilet.”

  Toby whistles.

  “And all because Harry’s an entitled jerk who thinks he owns me.”

  A subtle cedar-and-citrus scent catches my nose a second before a deep male voice purrs, “I could have told you that about him,” in my ear.

  The fatigue that has weighed on me all night evaporates as I turn to find Tyler standing beside me.

  “You look nice.” He nods toward the empty bar stool. “You saving this for me?”

  “No, but you can have it.”

  He sheds his black-and-tan plaid jacket and tosses it onto a hook before easing his jeans-clad bottom half beside me.

  I do my best to ignore my racing heart and Toby’s obnoxious grin.

  “One of these, please.” Tyler points to the local IPA on tap before shifting back to me. “What has Harry done now?” Those hazel eyes glow with liquid gold undertones against the color of his forest green shirt. Did he know they would when he dressed for tonight, or is it just a coincidence meant to torture me?

  I clear my throat, struggling to maintain an aloof demeanor. “Doesn’t matter.” I don’t want to start this night off making Tyler angry. “I’m surprised you made it.”

  “Why?” He swivels on the stool to get a better look, forcing his legs apart to make the turn. “Looks like my kind of place.”

  One of his thighs presses against mine, his jeans pleasantly rough against my bare skin. I allow it for a few beats, waiting to see if he’ll pull away.

  He doesn’t.

  And I’m enjoying it too much.

  With a slow, calming breath, I shift, putting space between us.

  Toby sets the pint down on a paper coaster. “Hey, you’re Tyler Brady, aren’t you?”

  Tyler dips his head once.

  “Good to have you here at the Ale House.”

  “This is Toby. His parents own this place. He runs the mechanics shop, if you ever need something fixed.” I introduce them and then slip into the background while they talk, content to watch Tyler’s attractive profile as he sips his beer, feeling the eyes on my back as whispers of the Iditarod winner’s presence makes its way around the room.

  His demeanor is relaxed as he asks Toby questions—how long they’ve been in the area, how many tourists they see in a season, what type of engines he works on. The conversation stays on Toby, and I can’t tell if that’s because Tyler’s truly interested in what he can learn, or if it’s a tactic to keep the dialogue and questions off himself. There’s still so much I don’t know about Tyler.

  “I hear we’ve got a world-class champion in our midst!” Muriel appears behind us, her attention locked on Tyler.

  I knew it was only a matter of time.

  “Glad to see you finally makin’ your way to us.”

  We do another round of introductions, and then she backs up. “Well? Come on, then. Everyone wants to meet ya.”

  “Uh ….” Tyler falters on a suitable answer. He wasn’t expecting the likes of Muriel. No one ever is.

  “Here, let me top that up for you.” Toby fills his glass to brimming. “On the house, seein’ as you have to deal with my mother.”

  “If you’re trying to avoid attention, you came to the wrong place.” Despite my better judgment, I lean in to whisper, “It’s best you just go with it, champ.”

  The tension in his jaw eases, and a crooked smile curls his lips. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did. Have fun.” I tap his full glass with my bottle and then swig from my beer.

  The move draws his attention to my mouth—not my intention.

  He collects his pint and rises, his thigh brushing against my hip. “Save my seat.”

  “I’ll try.” I watch him trail behind Muriel, admiring the shape of his shoulders and his tapered waist.

  “So, is that why you’ve been busy?” Toby teases.

  “No. We’re just … friends.” I falter over that last word. Despite my best intentions, it’s happening, anyw
ay. We’ve become friends. And I’m wildly attracted to him.

  “Right.” With a chuckle, Toby heads off to fill some orders.

  And I watch as Muriel drags Tyler from group to group, introducing him as if he’s a special guest for hire, coordinated by Muriel herself. I’ll give him credit; even if he hates the attention, he smiles and laughs with the best of them.

  And hides the profound sadness that I’ve caught glimpses of beneath it all.

  A commotion stirs behind the bar.

  “You forgot the alcohol!” Teddy slaps his son over the shoulder, and with a laugh retrieves the bottle of vodka from beneath the bar—the only hard liquor in this place, and it’s been brought in solely for Calla. “Look at that. You haven’t even opened it yet! Is your head not screwed on tonight?” Teddy cracks the seal on the lid and sets the bottle down on the counter in front of him with a heavy thud.

  Toby and Calla share a pointed look. Beside her, Jonah leans against the bar, absently watching while in the midst of a conversation with someone else.

  “There. Bet that’ll be a lot stronger. Fix her a new one. A proper one,” Teddy goads, patting the counter so Calla can trade in the drink Toby just handed her for one with alcohol.

  She was drinking a martini earlier. This is her second drink—at least. There’s no way she didn’t notice the absence of vodka in the last one.

  Unless …

  She’s dog-tired.

  Can barely stay awake at night.

  My breath hitches with the sinking realization.

  Jonah has dismissed his conversation entirely and is frowning at his wife, and I can tell he’s walking through the exact same thoughts.

  His mouth hangs as he grasps what I just did.

  “Calla …” He drops his hand on his wife’s shoulder and leans in, eyebrows arched in a wordless question.

  From this angle, I can only see her profile, but it’s enough as she sets the glass down. With a rare shy smile, she nods.

  Jonah covers his mouth with a palm as he absorbs the shock.

  “Way to blow it, Dad!” Toby smacks Teddy in the arm, a rare bout of irritation twisting his features. “She wanted to tell him later, when they were alone.”

  “Tell him what—ooooh.” Teddy’s mouth forms a perfect O as he watches Jonah collect Calla in his arms and lift her into the air.

  Toby was obviously in on this elaborate ruse. The only one in on it, I note, as I take in Agnes’s and Mabel’s faces, brimming with shock and unbridled excitement.

  I plaster on what I hope is a matching mask to show my support, even as an odd, empty feeling settles over me.

  This is really happening.

  Jonah is going to be a father. He’s having a baby with Calla.

  I knew this day would come. It was only a matter of time. Though, we only just mentioned it yesterday in passing, and it still seemed like years away.

  And I’m thrilled for him, for them.

  So why am I suddenly overwhelmed by emotions that feel entirely unsuitable?

  Jonah has set Calla down on the counter, knocking over a pint in his oblivious excitement as he presses his face into her stomach. She’s beaming as she laughs, not a hint of the same trepidation she had when they had that pregnancy scare last year.

  Panic swells as a painful lump forms in my throat, and I fear the worst—that I’m about to lose my composure in the middle of the Ale House. My hand is shaking as I down the rest of my beer in a giant gulp and slide off the stool, intent on stealing a moment for myself in the restroom, to deal with whatever this is in private. Only my legs keep going, carrying me past that little door and through the outer one.

  The sun is still high in the sky as I head for my truck, parked in the farthest possible corner of the lot, closest to the tree line. My face is frozen with a smile to mask the ugliness beneath in case anyone is out here, until I crawl into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me.

  That’s when the first sob wrenches from me.

  I try to swallow it.

  “I’m happy for them.”

  “I’m happy for them.”

  “I’m happy for them,” I chant over and over again.

  And I am so happy for them.

  But at this very moment, I’m so utterly unhappy for me, for the things I’m beginning to accept I may never have.

  The pitiful tears win out, rolling down my cheeks in rivulets that feel like they may never end now that I’ve let them loose.

  My passenger door opens, and Tyler climbs in, shutting the door behind him.

  Oh God. An already horrendous situation has suddenly gotten ten times worse. The last thing I want is to have to explain myself to anyone, but especially to him.

  I turn away before he can see my face, wiping my palms against my cheeks as covertly as possible. “Finished meeting the entire bar already?” I force out, my voice strained as I struggle to suppress my tears.

  With a heavy sigh, he slides across the bench seat.

  “I’m fine.” I’m clearly not fine, and he knows that.

  I tense as his arm slips over my shoulders. “Come here, Marie.” He’s strong, but I don’t resist when he angles me toward him, his other hand collecting my chin and gently guiding it into the crook of his neck, a hiding spot so I don’t have to meet his gaze. I appreciate that.

  “It’s not what you think,” I manage, my body stiff against his even as I absorb the pleasing scent of his skin.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. But I’m not thinking anything.” His fingers weave through my hair in tiny but calming strokes. It almost feels like a hug, the way he’s wrapped around me. “I saw you leave, and I knew something was wrong.”

  His kind words are pushed aside as dread grips me. “Did anyone else notice me leave?” Jonah and Calla unintentionally announce their pregnancy, and I—his best friend—run out, ready to burst into tears?

  “Nah. They were all pretty wrapped up in your friends. I only had a second to escape while people were distracted, so I took it.” His hand has not stilled as he talks. “Did you know Thomas White needs hernia surgery? And Dylan something or other is divorcing the same woman a second time?”

  Despite my abysmal mood, I offer a weak laugh. “You got the full Muriel experience, town gossip and all. Must mean she really likes you.”

  His responding chuckle is relaxing, and it allows me to focus on my breathing as we sit quietly in my truck.

  “Thank you. I think I’m okay now.” I start to pull away.

  Tyler’s arms tighten, holding me in place. My ears catch his hard swallow. “I remember when Mila told me she was pregnant.” His voice has turned croaky, hollow. “I’d been out all night, helping search the dark for two teens who’d gone missing. Followed the tracks in the snow until the wind covered them. Then we had nothing to go by. Anyway, I got home feeling drained and defeated, and there she was, sitting at the kitchen table with a white plastic stick in her hand.” There’s another long pause. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when she held it up to show me. She knew how much I wanted kids. How happy I would be.”

  Maybe I wasn’t the only one needing a moment to myself after watching the accidental announcement unfold. This time, when I try to pull away from Tyler, he allows it, though he keeps his arm around my shoulders. I smooth my hands over my cheeks to catch any wayward tears. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did.”

  His jaw is rigid as he swallows. His focus is on the tree line ahead as he asks, “So, if it’s not what I think it is, then what is it?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “You can.” A thumb and index finger pinch my chin, turning my face toward his. The raw sincerity in his expression squeezes my heart and loosens my tongue.

  I feel the words tumbling out. “Jonah’s my best friend, but I used to be in love with him.”

  Tyler’s eyebrow twitches, the only reaction to my confession.

  “He was my pilot when I’d fly to the villages in t
he west. We met when I was engaged to someone else and became good friends instantly. But I saw us ending up as more one day. I hoped we would end up as more, and I misread things.” I hesitate. “I left my fiancé for that possibility.”

  He nods slowly, as if pieces are beginning to make sense. “The guy at the coffee shop that you didn’t want to be talking to.”

  “Yeah. He didn’t take it well, obviously. Anyway, Jonah met Calla and fell in love with her, she moved here to be with him, they got married. And now they’re having a baby, and that’s that.” It sounds so simple.

  “And you’re still in love with him?”

  “No.” I laugh. “I still love him, but not like that anymore. No, that started to fade when I realized that whatever I thought was there … wasn’t. I’m happy for him. Really, I am. Even though it might not look like it right now. He asked me to be his best man at their wedding, and I did because I wanted to. I was honored to be there. I just—” I falter as the lump flares and the tears burn again. “I’m lonely.” Those words … God, I hate admitting that out loud. It makes me feel pathetic.

  “Everyone around me is moving forward with their lives. Getting married, having kids, and here I am, thirty-eight, alone and without any prospects.” Liz’s voice echoes in my mind. “I want children. I want children. And a husband. I want that in my life. And there’s this clock ticking, and it’s getting louder and louder every day, and it’s scaring the shit out of me. The idea that someone will come along in time doesn’t seem real anymore. What if Jonathan was it, and I blew it?” I’m rambling without any filter now. This is by far the most candid and vulnerable I’ve ever been with anyone, and I can’t believe it’s with this guy.

  “You have enough friends,” he whispers. “That’s what you meant.”

  We’re too far down the path of embarrassing truths for me to turn back now. “I thought we clicked. You know, during the race. Not so much before the race.”

  He snorts.

  “But I guess I completely misread things, again.”

  He rubs my shoulder gently. “You didn’t misread anything.” His eyes flip to my mouth before he averts his gaze. “You’re the first woman I’ve kissed since Mila.”

  “And you thought I was her while you were doing it.”