Page 48 of Falling For Alaska

“And what’s in there?” he asks, pointing at my backpack between bites.

“Books.” I smile.

He tilts his head to the side. “Ah, Alaska, Alaska, you’re s-s-somethin’, you know.”

I grin wider. “You never know when you might have time to read.”

“Yeah, I g-guess that’s true,” an uneven smile tugs at his lips, and goosebumps ripple over my skin.

“I’ve got something else too,” I say, turning to grab the box inside my backpack and setting it on the plaid. “Dessert,” I add, my voice surprisingly cheerful and light.

He chuckles. “Damn, don’t p-p-put that here, I-I’ll eat it right away.”

“It’s chocolate cookies with caramel drizzle,” I tease.

“Woman, you know the-the way to my-my heart.” He laughs, then suddenly stops himself. “Sorry, I—I mean, th-thank you. That’s very kind of you.” My cheeks turn crimson. I’m used to baking for other people, family, friends, but baking for him felt different. I wanted him to see… I wanted him to see how good a homemaker I could be. “What about the-the books?” he asks. “What did you-did you bring up here?”

“One for me and one for you. I thought you might like one too, um…”

“Show me,” he challenges, holding out his palm.

“Here,” handing him a fantasy book with fictional creatures, kingdoms, wars, and a guy who’s a nobody but turns out to be the heir to the throne. Not the most original story, but definitely a page-turner. “You said thrillers weren’t your thing anymore, so I thought maybe jumping into a new world could be nice, you know? To relax and all.” I shrug, suddenly forgetting every skill I have for picking the right book for the right person, turning red under his intense gaze.

“Nobody’s ever chosen a book for me, not like that, I mean. I’m…” He hesitates, then lets out a quiet breath. “Thanks, really.” One corner of his mouth lifts as he looks at me. “Were you an avid reader as a kid, too?” he asks.

“Not really,” I say, picking a piece of fruit in my hand. “It was kind of the opposite, actually.”

“How so?” He arches a brow.

“I liked performing for my family,” I explain, fond memories coming back to me. “Especially with Bella. We’d sing, dance, and…” I trail off, looking away at the lakes. “My favorite thing was making up games in my head. Castles, dragons. I’d stay out in the garden until it got dark, and my parents had to bribe me with candy just to get me back inside. What about you? What were you like as a kid?”

“Um.” He thinks for a moment. “I don’t really know. My dad used to tell me to put myself out there more, but talking was hard for me. I was more into sports. Soccer, mostly.” I listen, picturing a young Jack with disheveled blond hair and a sweet face, “I liked the t-team aspect without having to talk much. I played for a few years…uh, made ma-making friends easier.” We exchange a small smile, learning about each other one step at a time. “How ‘bout we-we eat and read a bit, then go back to the car? If you’re not too cold, uh, I’ve got another sw-sweater just in case,” he says.

“Sounds like a plan,” I nod, tugging a strand of hair behind my ear. He catches the motion and hisses in a breath.

“When you-you do that…” A feral gaze taking place in his brown pupils. “Whatever.” His jaw clenches and I catch him flexing his hand twice in a row. “Let’s try your cookies,” he says, reaching for the box. The humming sound that escapes his lips gives me goosebumps, and I try my best not to seem flustered by it. “The guy that’ll end up pu-putting a ring on your finger might be the l-luckiest in the world,” he mutters. Only this time, he doesn’t smile. His gaze drifts far beyond the trees, and I know he’s seeing something that isn’t in front of him.

“I’m glad you like them,” I murmur. “I baked them for you.”

He turns his face toward me. “You’re-you’re a great home-homemaker,” he states abruptly. “Don’t ever d-doubt that.” Then he takes the box and hands it to me. “Keep them away from me,” he chuckles with a slow smile. “Or I’ll finish them in-in two seconds.” I grab one, then give him the box again.

“Good thing because they’re for you.” He grins, takes another, and I grab my backpack and tuck it behind my back for support. I search left and right for a rock, but Jack shifts next to me.

“Come here,” he says. “I’ll su-support you.” His large backpack behind him makes quite the chair. He’s sitting on the ground, one arm wide open for me to rest against the side of his body. I snuggle against his chest, my head resting on his shoulder, and open my book.

It’s so perfect I could cry.

Jack

There are a few moments in life when everything aligns perfectly. When your favorite team scores at the World Cup. When your dad teaches you how to fix a car, then tells you how much he loves your mom and your family. And when you get to hold your woman in your arms, knowing that at this instant, no one can take her from you. She fell asleep an hour ago, nestled close to me. I didn’t want her to get cold, so I managed to grab the other sweater from my backpack and drape it over her like a makeshift blanket. The sun is high now, my watch reading eleven-thirty. We ate early, so we’ve still got the whole afternoon to ourselves. The rock under me isn’t exactly comfortable, but she is, so I wait a bit longer, guessing she needs the rest after crying and climbing the mountain.

Didn’t know black leggings and a ponytail could have that much effect on me, by the way. I thought I was about to lose it when she bit her lip one more time. There’s just something in me that wants to taste it myself when she does that, mark her and leave the bruise visible, showing the world she’s mine.

Not some other guy’s woman.

Mine.

She thought about bringing me a book, which I’m devouring, and baked the best cookies I’ve ever had. It's hard not to picture her barefoot and pregnant in our kitchen when she does that. Going back to Minneapolis now would feel like walking away from home. I really didn’t expect this town to get to me, but…it really does. There are opportunities in Minneapolis for me. The familiarity of the field and the promotion I’ve worked so hard to earn. But there’s hope here, in Lakeside. Back then, I had goals. Now all I can see is purpose. Alaska makes me want to be a better man for her. To see the bigger picture. Purpose. She’s the one making me think about all those things in the first place. In Minneapolis, I had a flat with no personality whatsoever, which was fine, considering I was always working and only came home to sleep. I didn’t try to connect with anyone. It was all work, sleep, repeat. In Lakeside, I’m picturing a nice wooden house, with kids laughing and a smiling Alaska baking in our kitchen. I’m not even ashamed to admit it; it’s been on my mind for days.