“And, yeah, it’s a bit quieter around there than what you might have had in your head, but everything outside of a major city is gonna feel remote. It’s not like Bangor, though. There’s a great highway all the way to Anchorage and plenty of paved roads. As soon as you have your license, it’ll be nothing for you to drive there to get whatever you need that you can’t get nearby. But Wasilla has everything.”

I sit back and listen to Jonah ramble on about all the benefits of this location—the hunters who’ve already booked him for their fly-in this coming fall will be happier flying into Anchorage than Bangor; the tourists who come to the area in droves who’ll be looking for daily trips over the Denali mountain range—and I can’t help but find myself nodding along with him. He’s making many good points.

And having a place where he can readily access and fly his planes is ideal. I’d much rather roll out of bed and walk two floors down to our “office” than venture out into the cold every morning.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jonah so excited before. I certainly haven’t seen an ounce of this enthusiasm over any of the other prospective house listings I’ve showed him.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is perfect for us.

I feel my resolve begin to wear away. “You should have told me before we got there, Jonah.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His light blue eyes brim with sincerity. He reaches across the table to collect my hands. The rough calluses he’s earned chopping wood and shoveling snow scrape against my palms. “It’s a good setup for us though, Calla. I wouldn’t be pushing for it if I didn’t think so. It’s the best of both worlds. It’s got somethin’ for both of us.”

And we are in this together, which is going to mean compromise, I remind myself. Truthfully, I’ve been trying to picture Jonah—a guy who lands planes on glaciers and mountains—feeling at home on an urban street lined with houses and minivans, and I’ve been struggling. Worrying that we’ll choose the wrong house, in the wrong area, that he’ll regret leaving Bangor for me. I am not the only person giving up what I know and love. I need to consider Jonah’s needs, too, and he’s been hinting subtly—that is so unlike Jonah, I missed the cues—what would make him happy.

An hour-and-a-half drive to Anchorage.

Twenty-five minutes to ten thousand people. And a Walmart. I spent that much time commuting into work every day for four years, I remind myself.

“Aggie thinks it’s a good idea.”

“You’ve already talked to Agnes about this.” I’m not irritated though. If there’s anyone who knows how to listen and not judge or cajole, it’s her.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t insane. And, for the record, she told me I shouldn’t spring this on you.” He offers me an apologetic smile.

“How much does Phil want for it?” All that land, a hangar, and a log house that does have its own charm. “It can’t be cheap.”

Jonah shakes his head. “Double what we were planning on spending. And Phil is lookin’ to move sooner than later. Before the winter’s over.”

I let out a slow whistle. “If Phil can’t wait, we’d have to try to get a mortgage.” Something Jonah was vehemently opposed to, and frankly something that may not be an option at all, given our current employment status.

His head shake only confirms it. “We don’t have time for that. He’ll sell to the other couple. But I’ve gone through the numbers and we can do this. Between the money I got when I sold Jughead to Aro, the sale of the house, and my savings over the last ten years, it’ll more than cover the cost.”

“I won’t be able to give you my half until March or April. Maybe later.” There’s still some estate red tape to process before the funds are released to me.

“About that.” Jonah’s brow furrows. “Look, the land and hangar must be worth at least half the cost, so I’m willing to cover all that plus half the house—”

“What?” I glare at him. “No.”

“Come on, Calla. Wren left you that money so you can set yourself up for life. So you can invest in something.”

“I am investing in something.” I frown. “Us.”

He shakes his head. “I know what Wren sold Wild to Aro for, and I don’t ever want you or anyone else thinkin’ that I’m takin’ advantage of you.”

“Since when do you care what anyone else thinks?” My tone is escalating again, along with my irritation.

“I care what Susan and Simon think,” he says.

Did my mother say something to him? I make a mental note to confront her. “The only thing they care about is that I don’t go and blow it all and have nothing to show for it.”

Jonah’s jaw sets in that stubborn way of his. He’s being a prideful ass.

For once, though, I have the upper hand. “We are in this together. This is going to be our home together, and our life together, which includes the charter company. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be paying for half of it.” I make sure to enunciate the next words slowly and clearly. “The only way I’ll agree to this is if we’re in it together, all the way. Fifty-fifty.”

He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, as if thinking better of whatever he was going to say. “So … does that mean you’re saying yes?”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I am saying I will consider it.” Maybe I should also consider therapy, because I can’t believe I’m humoring Jonah with this.

“Hey, Jonah!” Chris hollers from the bar, the phone receiver pressed to his ear. “You still planning on taking Andrea’s truck up to Trapper’s Crossing today?”

“Uh …” Jonah watches me hopefully.

I feel my face twist with bewilderment. “Unbelievable! So, they were in on this, too? It’s a conspiracy!”

He shrugs sheepishly. “We needed to borrow their truck, anyway, for the open houses. I figured we could drive up and check out the area while we’re here. See what you think.”

I fall back into my seat, letting out a groan.

The slow-blooming sly grin on Jonah’s face tells me he thinks he’s already won.

I shake my head at his arrogance. “I have conditions.”

His eyes narrow warily. “Like what?”

“I’ll let you know when I come up with them. And they’re nonnegotiable, by the way.” A thought strikes me. “But for now … two words”—I hold up my fingers for emphasis, leaning across the table toward him, to mouth in a mock seductive way—“The Yeti.”

Jonah grimaces and I catch the whisper of “Ah, fuck” under his breath.

My lips curl into a vindictive smile.

Jonah’s hands grip the steering wheel of Andrea’s pickup truck as we ease to a sliding stop on the slick road. Nothing of Phil’s property is visible here, the driveway a long lane curving around the trees—spruces with their limbs sagging beneath the weight of snow and naked deciduous trees serving as a natural wall.

But ahead of us is where my attention settles, on the vast white wilderness, on the jagged peaks that reach far into the dusky sky, the mauve hue of the last moments of sun caressing the looming mountain before nightfall.