“When?” he demands to know, his voice suddenly gruff. I mean, if you’re serious about moving to Anchorage-” The severe frown cutting across Jonah’s handsome forehead as he stares down at me says he doesn’t, either. Their grumbles touch my ears, but in this moment, I don’t care. and we’re creating an obstacle, forcing travelers to weave around us on either side to get to their flights. Jonah leaves the line and retraces his steps to close the distance, dropping his bag by his feet. “I’ll come back to Alaska.” Because being with Jonah again-laughing and reminiscing, having him in my space, waking in his arms-has only confirmed what I’ve suspected for months: I’m deeply in love with him, and living in Toronto when he’s not here doesn’t make sense to me anymore. I take a step forward and swallow my nerves. Jonah turns to regard me with a raised eyebrow. I feel the word rising inside me-an emotion about to erupt. I haven’t given him an answer yet, too afraid to leap. Who knows when I’ll see him again? He flew here to tell me in person that he’s been miserable these past two months since I left Alaska, that he doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of my father-spending his life pining over my mother-that he wants to find an “us” that will work.

In seconds, Jonah is going to be out of sight, gone. On the other side is his fourteen-hour flight home. I watch him hand his documents to the agent at the US-bound entry gate, who spends all of one second reviewing them before waving him toward the glass security doors. He takes a deep breath and turns away, his carry-on slung over one broad shoulder, his boarding pass and passport dangling from between two pinched fingers. I still haven’t grown accustomed to seeing him without a beard, though I’ll admit I’ve enjoyed admiring that chiseled jawline and those dimples. The Uber driver shuttling me home after this parting will have the privilege of a sobbing mess in their backseat.Īn unreadable look flashes across Jonah’s icy blue eyes. A bliss-filled blur that I’m not ready to let go of yet. The past four days with Jonah in Toronto have been a blur. I can’t manage words around the flaring lump in my throat, and so I simply nod. “So … I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

Wild at heart book pdf