“Could’ve been a good dinner,” grumbles Luke.
“Makes a better fish,” I answer.
“May as well call it a day if you’re going to let them all go,” he says. “Besides, didn’t you have some work to do?”
I nod. “I thought I’d finish the rough draft of my story this afternoon, and maybe you could take a look at it for me. I want to be sure that I represent Sitka in a way that makes you proud.”
“Sure,” he says, taking the fishing pole from my hand and heading away from the river, toward the lodge on the other side of the island.
Something’s different about Luke today, I think, watching him head up the dirt path with his head down. I’d almost think he’s a little sad if I knew him better. He’s quieter than usual—less chatty, less flirty, more…subdued. I don’t know why.
Last night, after our walk and dinner on our private balcony, we made love for hours: with my back against the tile wall of the shower and sitting on Luke’s lap in the brown leather chair. Later, in bed, with my naked breasts pressed flush against his chest, heart to heart, he asked me to tell him more about my “next-someone list,” and I told him I wanted the sort of blow-my-mind chemistry I had with him. He’d stared at me for a long time after I said that, his eyes intense, but inscrutable. Finally, he’d kissed me like the world was about to end then told me he was tired. I rolled over, pressing my back to his front, and with his strong arm binding me to him, I’d fallen quickly asleep.
Today at breakfast he talked about coming to Sitka as a teenager, how he’d fallen in love with the beauty of Alaska, and though he didn’t originally want to leave Seattle, he’d quickly become grateful for the move. Honestly, I can see what he means: Sitka is spectacularly beautiful, safe and clean, brimming with kind neighbors and an enviable sense of community. But honestly, our talk made me miss Seattle too: the concerts and art exhibits, festivals and music. The convenience of living in a big city. The way there is always something new to do or see.
I just—
Well, I just couldn’t help picturing myself in Seattle with Luke. Going to a concert together. Taking the ferry over to Whidbey Island. Riding bikes along the Green River. Cheering on the Hawks from box seats procured by Jude. Catching a first-run movie on a Friday night, or a first-rate meal at a world-class restaurant. Our hometowns are as different as night and day, and yet, as I kept picturing him in mine, it ached a little that it can never be.
Neither of us has challenged our original agreement to keep things temporary and casual. And for whatever reason—maybe part of me is a little old-fashioned—if he’s interested in making a change, I want him to say it first. I want him to ask me to stay longer, to want me to come back…hell, to come down to Seattle and give what we have a real chance.
But he hasn’t said anything like that. He’s been sweet and wonderful, and the sex has been phenomenal. But he hasn’t asked any more of me than what we originally agreed to.
I need to make my peace with the reality I’m in and stop wishing for the fantasy I can’t have. If I don’t, I’ll drive myself crazy.
“You good back there?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Yep,” I say, sidestepping over a boulder as the lodge comes into view. “Just…thinking about Sitka.”
“And…what have you been thinking?”
“That it’s been an amazing place to visit,” I answer. “I’ll always remember my time here.”
“Oh. Right. That’s good,” he says softly. He turns around to face me but keeps his eyes down. “I’ll, uh…I’ll go return these poles and meet you back at the room, okay?”
“I’ll go with you,” I say.
“Nah,” he says, glancing over at the tackle shop, which is in the opposite direction from our room. “It’ll just take a second. You go get started on your work.”
“Okay,” I say, heading toward our room.
When I look back over my shoulder, I catch him watching me walk away before he turns back around and trudges toward the lodge.
Luke
Shit.
I watch her walk away and it’s on the tip of my tongue to call to her, to say, “I didn’t mean to fall for you so quickly, but I did. I hate the thought of saying goodbye. I hate the thought of never seeing you again. Does any part of you feel the same? Does any part of you ache like hell at the thought of saying goodbye and never seeing my face again?”
But I didn’t.
I just let her walk away.
I hear Bonnie’s voice in my head—She’s good for you. —and I think about my baby daughter snuggled up on Amanda’s lap, singing campfire songs. I remember the way she looked that first day in the rain, and the way she looked last night when I made love to her. I know that I’m not in love with her. Falling in love takes a lot longer than this. But, damn it, shit and fuck my life, but I feel something, and I’m not ready to let it go. I want more time. I need more time with her—just to see what this is…or what it could become.
Resolved to talk to her back at the room, I drop off the fishing poles, and truck it back over to the room. It takes courage to lay out your feelings, especially when you don’t know if they’ll be returned, but I have to try. I won’t forgive myself if I don’t try.
I race up the stairs to our room and open the door to find Amanda
…packing?
Her duffel bag is out on the bed and she’s throwing her things into it at Mach speed.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. …the doctor said that? Oh, Jude…hang in there…”
She looks up at me and that’s when I realize her eyes are filled with unshed tears that she’s trying to hold back. When she sees me, her composure seems to crack a little, so I turn my back to her and quietly close the door.
Something’s going on. And it’s bad.
“J-Jude…I’m on my way…I’m c-coming.”
She crosses to the other side of the room, opens a drawer, pulls out a sweatshirt and whatever underwear she had unpacked yesterday, then jams it all into the bag.
“I’ll be there tonight…I’m on the first flight.” She runs a hand through her hair, then zips up the bag. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Stay strong, okay? I love you guys too.”
When she lowers the phone from her face, she just stands there, staring off into space like she’s trying to come to terms with something awful.
“What happened?” I ask.
She turns to me, blinking like she’s surprised to see me. “My friend—my b-best friend…she’s like my sister…um, Leigh. She’s pregnan—no, I mean, she had the baby. But he’s—he’s not good. He’s not okay. The…the baby…” She drops to the edge of the bed, like standing hurts too much, and her shoulders start to shake. “The b-baby isn’t…ok-kay.”
A second later, I’m on my knees in front of her. “Breathe, Amanda. Just breathe.”
She leans forward until her forehead touches mine, her breath landing on my face in short stabs.
“I have—I have to g-get b-back.”
“I know. As soon as I know you’re okay, I’ll arrange everything.”
“My apartment here…m-my stuff,” she sobs.
“We’ll grab it on the way to the airport.”
“No, Luke! I’ve got to go! I’ve got to get to her! I should be th-there now!”
“I can pack up your stuff,” I say. “I can box it up tomorrow and send it to you. Don’t worry about it. Don’t think about it. Let’s just get you back to Seattle.”
Her eyes are bleak when she looks up at me. “What should I do? What the hell do I say to her?”
I don’t have any answers. No good ones. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare, for their child to be in trouble.
“Just be there for her,” I suggest.
“I can do that,” she whispers.
I stand up and pull off the waders I was wearing to fly fish. “Give me two minutes to change and pack. We’ll get a boat over to Sitka and I’ll drive you right over to the airport. There’s a two o’clock flight on Alaska Airlines.
Go on-line and buy yourself a ticket. I’ll handle the rest.”
She looks up at me with watery eyes. “Thank you.”
Less than an hour later, we’re pulling into the airport parking lot, and that’s right around the time I realize that for the past hour and change, I’ve been in crisis mode, but now? Right now? This woman is about to leave Sitka and get on a plane to Seattle. I’m worried for her friend, of course, but my head’s in a tailspin too. I care about her and I haven’t told her so.
I needed more time, and fate gave me…less.
I park close to the terminal, cut the engine and sit with my hands on the steering wheel. I want to say something. I need to say something, but shit! Her best friend’s in trouble and she’s leaving, and it’s not the right time to tell her how I feel. The problem is, this might be my last chance. I don’t know what the fuck to do.
“Luke.” Her voice is calm now. She’s on her way home and once she arrives at SeaTac, she’ll arrange for an Uber to take her straight to the hospital. She’s done all she can for her friend at this point, and tears are useless. “Luke, thanks for everything.”
“I’m—I’m sorry it ends like this,” I say honestly, looking at her. “For us.”
Her hair is up in a messy bun, and I wish I could take it down and run my hands through it one last time before she goes. Her eyes are bright from crying and they search mine like she has something to say.
“We said no strings,” she finally whispers. She wets her lips, flicking a glance at mine and then back up again. “Right?”
“That was our agreement,” I say, feeling miserable.
“Will you say goodbye to the kids for me?”
“Sure,” I say.
I think this is her way of telling me that our short, sweet relationship ends here. Because if there were strings attached—if she had the sort of budding feelings for me that I have for her—she’d ask for my phone number, wouldn’t she? She’d tell me that she’ll call me tomorrow with news about her friend. She’d ask me to come see her in Seattle, or tell me she wanted to come back to Sitka.
“You’re sure you don’t mind sending the rest of my stuff?” she asks.
“No. It’s no problem. I have your address.”
Not your email. Not your phone number. Just a slip of paper with your street address, nothing more.
She nods at me, her eyes searching my face. “I… I had more fun here than I thought I would.” She clears her throat when I don’t answer. “I can, um, send you a copy of the article…if you want.”
“Sure,” I say. “That would be great.”
“You know what?” She cocks her head to the side and smiles at me, but it’s a sad smile. “I’m glad Bonnie placed that ad.”
“Me too.” I miss you already, I think. I don’t want this to be over! But a wiser, smoother voice warns me: It’s not the right time, Luke. It’s just not the right time. Instead I ask: “Can I walk you to the terminal?”
She shakes her head. “No. I hate long goodbyes.”
“So this is it.”
“Yeah. This is it. I think it’s for the best.”
It’s not for the best, something inside of me cries.
Stay, I want to say, but she can’t stay. Her friend needs her and I’m not that selfish, no matter how much I like her.
Ask me to visit! But I can’t force her to want what I want, and I can’t invite myself into the life she has at home. She has to do that without me forcing her to.
But I have to say something.
“You’re always welcome here,” I whisper, but it’s so little when my heart feels so much more.
She leans across the seat, taking my face in her hands. Her lips land softly on mine, her skin bidding farewell to mine. All too soon, she pulls away, and I think I might hear the sound of a muffled sob. But, by the time I open my eyes, the passenger door is slamming shut and she’s headed into the terminal without looking back.
And just like that…
…she’s gone.
** PLEASE TURN THE PAGE TO READ A LETTER FROM KATY REGNERY THAT EXPLAINS THE ABRUPT ENDING OF THIS STORY AND PLANS TO FINISH IT SOON! **
A Letter to My Readers
Dear readers:
I was not supposed to write this story.
If you follow me on social media, you know that I had originally intended to include a different book in this anthology. I had over 20,000 words of AT FIRST SIGHT written when I powered down my computer one afternoon in mid-July and lost the entire story. The whole thing. All of it. Gone. I tried working with computer experts and recovery programs, but the book had vanished. To this day, I have never been able to recover the manuscript.
I have it on good authority that this is every author’s worst nightmare. To lose all of that work? All of those words? It was heartbreaking. Not to mention, it put me in a serious bind.
With only 22 days before the story was due, I considered backing out of this collection entirely, but I really didn’t want to do that. Heidi McLaughlin, the editor of this collection, is one of my closest friends in this crazy industry, and not only did I feel terrible about letting her down, but I really like collaborating on projects with her. She’d drawn together a terrific group of authors to be included in this anthology. I wanted in.
Faced with only three weeks to deliver a complete novella, I dug back through my computer files, looking at unfinished manuscripts. That’s when I came across SINGLE IN SITKA, an idea I’d had back in 2017 for a book about a single dad in Sika, Alaska, who meets a newly-single journalist from Seattle. After re-reading the 7,000 words I had, I thought to myself: I can do this! I can make this story work! The one problem? SINGLE IN SITKA was planned as a 70,000-word novel, not a 20,000-word novella. Hmm. What to do…what to do…and then I remembered…
Back in 2015, after more than a hundred fans asked, I wrote MARRYING MR. ENGLISH, a pre-quel to my popular series, The English Brothers. I had planned it as a holiday novella. The problem was, once I got started writing, I realized that Tom and Eleanora’s story couldn’t be told in such a short book. It needed to be a full-length novel. Know what I did? I published the first half of MARRYING MR. ENGLISH in a Christmas collection, wrote the second half, then published the novel in its entirety a few weeks later.
And that’s exactly what I’m doing here, as well.
Included this collection, I hope you enjoy the first half of Amanda and Luke’s story. But if the story feels unfinished, that’s because it is. The entire novel, including the second part/conclusion to Amanda and Luke’s story, will be released on October 8, 2019.
An important note about pricing: Generally, I charge $3.99 per novel, but because you’ve already paid $3.99 for this anthology, I will be publishing the complete novel, SINGLE IN SITKA, at the reduced price of $0.99 so that you aren’t charged double.
Part of what I love best about being an indie author is the constant surprises in my work-life. A month ago, I would have bet that I’d be offering you another fairytale. Instead, you’ll be reading the fun and flirty story of an Alaskan state trooper and the Seattle city girl who steals his heart.
Promise me you’ll circle back in October to read the rest of the story, okay? And I have two more goodies coming out this fall to complete my Alaskan collection:
Coming in November 2019: NOME-O SEEKS JULIET, about a man and woman who go head-to-head in the Iditarod Dog Sled Race! The battle of the sexes has never been so sexy!
Coming in December 2019: A FAIRBANKS AFFAIR, about a 30-year-old virgin who heads to Alaska with the sole intent of turning in her v-card over one long, sexy New Year’s weekend!
With so much love to all of you!
Katy
xoxoxo
Also by Katy Regnery
a m o d e r n f a i r y t a l e
(A collection)
The Vixen and the Vet
Never Let You Go
Ginger’s Heart
Dark Sexy Knight
Don’t Speak
S
hear Heaven
Fragments of Ash
THE BLUEBERRY LANE SERIES
THE ENGLISH BROTHERS
(Blueberry Lane Books #1–7)
Breaking Up with Barrett
Falling for Fitz
Anyone but Alex
Seduced by Stratton
Wild about Weston
Kiss Me Kate
Marrying Mr. English
THE WINSLOW BROTHERS
(Blueberry Lane Books #8–11)
Bidding on Brooks
Proposing to Preston
Crazy about Cameron
Campaigning for Christopher
THE ROUSSEAUS
(Blueberry Lane Books #12–14)
Jonquils for Jax
Marry Me Mad
J.C. and the Bijoux Jolis
THE STORY SISTERS
(Blueberry Lane Books #15–17)
The Bohemian and the Businessman
The Director and Don Juan
Countdown to Midnight
THE SUMMERHAVEN SERIES
Fighting Irish
Smiling Irish
Loving Irish
Catching Irish
THE ARRANGED DUO
Arrange Me
Arrange Us
ODDS ARE GOOD SERIES
COMING FALL 2019
Single in Sitka
Nome-o Seeks Juliet
A Fairbanks Affair
STAND-ALONE BOOKS:
After We Break
(a stand-alone second-chance romance)
Frosted
(a stand-alone romance novella for mature readers)
Unloved, a love story
(a stand-alone suspenseful romance)
Under the paranormal pen name
K. P. Kelley
It’s You, Book 1
It’s You, Book 2
Under the YA pen name
Callie Henry
One Hot Summer Page 45