Page 37 of Falling For Alaska

“I’ll check on you t-t-tomorrow morning,” he declares. “Just—” he runs a hand on his tired, handsome face, “just stay s-s-safe, okay? I-I can’t be out there if I’m not-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, as if it would give him away. I don’t like seeing him like this. Stressed. Worried.

“I’m safe. Just go,” I murmur, hoping to appease him.

“Alaska, when-when I’ll see you again, there’s things I-I-I want to t-t-tell you.”

“We’ll talk then,” I assure him, the confidence coming from out of nowhere. He nods, his chest rising higher, and I sense a strange familiarity with wives of soldiers, reassuring their husbands before they leave for war. Only Jack isn’t my husband, and I’m not his wife. We’re two people drawn to each other for reasons both of us can’t even seem to grasp. Long-lost lovers, tearing ourselves apart as if it was painful and unnatural. Jack leans in and rests a hard kiss on my forehead, the touch lighting my heart on fire. The organ beats so fast I’m afraid it’ll jump out of me. Without another word, he turns and leaves, the door closing behind him mirroring the window opening in my chest.

He came to see me. He was worried, and I found a way to appease him. I didn’t know I could do that. That I could bring something good to this world. Perhaps not all is lost. Maybe there’s still a glimpse of me that’s worth it. I exhale loudly and crash on my sofa, one hand on my forehead, wishing I could still feel the brush of his lips on it.

Jack kissed me tonight, and my world just rocked out of its axis.

Chapter Thirteen

JACK

“Hey.” Her sweet tone welcomes me like the wings of an angel as I fight against sleep in my office. Morning came quicker than I thought, the sun peeking out from the blinds and shooting straight into my eyes. What I’d give for a few minutes of rest.

“S-sorry to call you this soon, I j-just needed to, to check if you were alright,” I tell her, carrying my phone between my shoulder and ear while pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Everything’s fine, but, um, a tree kinda fell in my driveway.”

“Really?” I stand. “I’ll be right there.”

“No, Jack, you need to rest. I hear it in your voice,” she hurries, and tiny creases appear near my eyes.

“But-”

“It’s no big deal. My dad is coming this morning to help me, don’t worry, really.”

“You should have t-t-told me, I would have come immediately.”

“I know,” she says, and I’m almost sure she’s blushing, “but it wasn’t urgent, really, it’s okay.” I try to calm myself and sit back down on my chair, my nerves and eyelids throbbing with the lack of sleep. She’s alright. She’s okay. It’s just a freaking tree. Her dad is going to help her. I can calm down. She’s right, I desperately need to sleep. Normally, a night without sleeping would be fine by me, but it has been more than forty-eight hours of almost non-stop rescuing and helping out folks, and I don’t have anything to give anymore. My eyes aren’t seeing straight, and the last thing I need is to ditch my car into a tree while driving to her.

“I-I need to see you.” It comes out of me like the most primal need I have right now. Sleep and Alaska. That’s what the raw version of me needs to sustain.

“Tomorrow?” she tells me with no hesitation. Tomorrow’s comparable to forever, but okay.

“I’ll be at my shop to clean everything from the storm. I’ll, um, I’ll be waiting for you,” she says, her voice faltering like she’s not sure of herself.

“I’ll be there,” I promise her.

“Goodnight, Jack,” she says, chuckling softly, and I grin in response, cause it’s six a.m., but she’s right, I’m probably going to sleep all day to recover.

“See you tomorrow, Alaska,” I tell her, her name rolling on my tongue with ease and comfort. The call ends, but I must still have a stupid grin on my face because Jared enters, lifting his brow. I slept for an hour at the station and woke up around six a.m., my radio vibrating again. It didn’t stop all night. Jared and I got back together around four in the morning to help a guy who got stuck in his car. Then we parted again to help more folks. Thank God I changed clothes before falling asleep, because they’d be damp and freaking icy cold. At least the storm cleared out by the end of the night. It’s only rain and strong wind now, which I’m grateful for since I’m not sure how long Lakeside would have managed to exist if it didn’t stop. Can’t even imagine the disaster the streets will be this morning. At least there weren’t any casualties. I guess that’s the most important thing, especially in such a small town with so many families with kids.

“Wow, someone looks happy,” Jared chants with a smug face, putting a cup of coffee on my desk as I open my eyes, my back stiff from the wood of the chair. One hour isn’t enough. I’ll need to go home and crash for a bit if I want to feel alive again.

“Thanks,” I growl, taking the warm cup of coffee and hoping it’ll wake me up enough to keep going. “Any, uh, news?” I ask, secretly crossing my fingers that the name of Alaska won’t be brought up. Guess that’s why I stayed up all night, too. Even when backup arrived, I could have gone sooner to the station to get a bit more sleep, but what if anything happened to her while I was away? Nah. I couldn’t take the chance. Jared takes a slow sip of his coffee, his brown eyes harboring blue pouches underneath them. He was a hell of a good partner yesterday. Glad I got him. Efficient and cool under pressure. Yesterday was a disaster, but in a way, it could have gone even worse.

“Couple more cars stuck in ditches. Power’s back. Dispatch is dealing with a flooded basement situation over at the Wilsons’. Also, some poor guy got a tree through his garage,” he exhales, shaking his head.

“Could’ve been worse.” I say, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Your girl okay?” Jared asks casually. I tense, grip tightening around my cup.

“She’s not my—” I stop myself, jaw clenching. He’s on my side. There’s no need to fight it. He knows I like Alaska. “She’s f-fine,” I assure him, then take a sip of coffee, letting the bitter heat drag me back to the present. The station is buzzing with early morning activity: phones ringing, boots scuffing the floor, the murmur of tired officers catching up after a hellish night.

“I’m gonna go home to rest. You should do the same. You look like hell.”