Page 2 of North

Fine. Maybe she should at least look at Chloe’s endless texts. Selah was scrolling through the questions when a man stepped up to her table.

Not the waiter. Tall, well-dressed in a subtle way that spoke of money or power, with dress pants and a pullover sweater over an oxford. He wore his dark hair cut short, and confidence exuded from him, and maybe toughness too, because a thin scar traced his forehead. He smiled, however, softening what might otherwise have been an intimidating presence.

“Sorry to disturb you. The dining car’s full—would you mind sharing?”

His voice sounded Midwestern, easy to her ears, and she gestured to the chair across from her. “Be my guest.”

“James Cooper,” he said once seated, extending his hand.

“Selah Silver.”

His handshake was firm but measured. He smelled of expensive cologne and coffee. And she was suddenly acutely aware of her cargo pants and T-shirt, her Keens and simply braided hair, as if she were a college student instead of a thirty-year-old international humanitarian aid worker who spoke three languages. Maybe that was okay—for now. She’d left that woman—that crazy life—behind.

“Heading to Seattle?” He settled his leather messenger bag by his feet.

“No. A kids’ camp about twenty miles north of Leavenworth.”

She had spent most of the last month avoiding questions—How was Mariposa? What was it like, all that destruction? Did you see many casualties? And inevitably: Are you and North still together?

Now, the man just smiled, gave her an approving nod.

The train curved around a bend. James glanced out the window.

A family walked past their table—two kids in Disney shirts, parents juggling snacks and tablets. Normal people on a normal trip. She could be normal too. That’s what her therapist used to say: Give yourself permission to be okay.

Still trying.

“Beautiful country,” James said as the waiter delivered Selah’s coffee and croissant. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

She smeared jam on her croissant and took a bite.

“How is it? Last decent croissant I had was in Prague. Or maybe Paris…”

“Either would be better than this, but given that we’re miles from a decent French bakery, it’s not terrible.” She took a sip of coffee. “You travel a lot?”

“Some,” he said and pulled out his phone, tapped his screen, frowned, and then repocketed it. “You?”

“Not really. I mean...yes, but...” She sighed. “I tend to show up in areas that need help, like after a natural disaster or political crisis.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And now you’re going to a children’s camp?”

“Just need a break from...tragedy, I guess.”

He laughed. “Haven’t spent much time with middle schoolers, then, huh?”

She smiled back. He seemed nice. “Do you have kids?”

He shook his head, drew in a breath. “Not that brave.”

Then he winked. And it was...strangely warm, although not flirty at all. As if they were friends.

“Are you here on business?”

“Yes. Working on a...merger and acquisitions deal.”

“Why the train?”

He looked up as the waiter delivered his coffee and breakfast. “Thanks.”