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Fourteen

Stella

It was brutally late when we arrived back at Huck’s cabin, though I didn’t feel it.

I was still basking in the high of what was arguably the best night of my life.

The excitement drained out of Teddy an hour into the drive, his hangover cycling into a second phase that seemed worse than the first. He shifted restlessly on the couch in front of the fire that Huck had lit when we’d gotten back to the cabin.

“I’m going to pack it in,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Somebody woke me up before I was ready earlier. What about you, Stell? Calling it a night?”

The last thing I wanted was for this night to end.

“Actually, I was thinking I’d walk down to the beach Huck mentioned earlier. I’m too happy to sleep.”

“Count me in,” Huck said. He rose and headed to the coat rack.

“Suit yourselves. Try not to become a polar bear snack.”

Huck froze mid-reach for his coat and cast a panicked glance around. “Wait. Are you messing with us, Ted? Are there polar bears in Iceland?”

Teddy nodded gravely. He was taking a bit too much hidden delight in Huck’s terror. Slightly evil, our Teddy.

I laughed. “Sometimes.” I pulled on a down jacket. “I could bring the axe if you’re really worried.”

“Nice try, Stell, but methinks it might be a bit dull for self-defense,” Teddy said, yawning.

“I’ll take my chances,” Huck said.

Once Teddy absconded to bed, Huck and I raided the kitchen for crackers and cheese and a bottle of an Icelandic liquor called Bjork, like the singer.

This signature local beverage was made from the sap of birch trees, and the distillery had really leaned into the branding by including a literal stick floating in the yellow liquid inside the bottle.

Huck grabbed a thick wool blanket while I stuffed the Bjork and the rest of our night picnic supplies into my backpack.

We headed down the winding path toward the beach.

Tall volcanic rock formations erupted around us, forming walls on either side of the path, and the gravel turned fine and black as soot beneath our boots as we neared the beach.

Our breath created clouds in the cold night air.

In the distance, the ocean waves were a powerful hush that drowned out the sound of our footfalls.

“It almost feels like another planet, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“It does. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

When I glanced up, Huck was looking at me, and a tiny swirl of elation filled my chest. Could he have been talking about me?

We pressed on, struggling in the deep sand.

At some point, Huck reached down and took my hand as we helped each other stay on our feet, like it was the most natural thing in the world…

and maybe it was. It felt right, just like it had last night.

In his arms, I’d slept better than I ever had.

The ocean was midnight blue ahead of us, frothy waves slicking over the shimmering black sand.

I was glad I’d had the foresight to grab my sleeping bag from the van when we left, and I laid it on a large rock I found so we could sit, wrapped in the wool blanket to block the wind.

Huck opened the Bjork while I ate a few slices of cheese.

He passed me the bottle and I took a swig before handing it back to him.

The liquor’s taste was earthy and subtly sweet, like brown sugar toasted over a wood fire.

It was surprisingly smooth; each sip left a pleasant warmth.

“Today was perfect; it’s hard to believe it really happened,” Huck said.

“I know. It’s weird, I’ve been waiting for so long to find something—we’ve been searching the Atlantic seaboard from Virginia to the Caribbean for years based on this map I inherited, and we’ve found some small things, but never gotten close to our real goal of finding the Stolen Treasure of the Sea People.

This time was so effortless in comparison—it almost feels like it was meant to be. ”

“I get what you mean.” Huck’s voice was low and husky. I turned to meet his eyes, and the look he gave me made me unsure whether he was referring to Gunnarsson’s treasure, or me.

“I didn’t want to come here at first. My agent had to plan the whole thing, but when I landed, something shifted. I had a feeling something big was going to happen here.”

I nodded.

“Then I met you, and you showed me that poem. Everything changed.” I wondered if he wanted to kiss me.

I wanted him to. I’d been thinking about it all day and through the evening, even when we were at the falls.

His gaze had drifted down to my lips for a moment.

“This place is special. Probably it’s all the geothermal energy, or the elves. Maybe it’s fate.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying not to grin. We pushed the volcanic sand with our feet.

“It’s weird. North Carolina beaches are all white sand, dunes—or what’s left of them—grasses waving in the breeze.

You probably know that from Teddy. I still can’t believe that you’ve known him so long.

I’m a little jealous, actually. Anyway, this is like the opposite of those beaches, and it’s the strangest thing; it feels more like home to me in some ways. ”

“Well, home is an interesting concept.”

Most people would’ve probably found this response odd, but I didn’t.

It was an interesting concept, even though it seemed simple and most people probably took it for granted.

In my case, home was fraught. After my family fell apart, I didn’t think I’d ever have a home again.

And then after that, home meant Teddy, Gus, and Zoe, because they were my people.

My family. We’d chosen each other. But it never escaped me that my friends had real families too, unlike me…

parents and siblings and mortgages and legitimate professions, and I was committed to nothing.

Even my lease for my crappy little apartment was month to month.

I was not tied to anything and hadn’t been for a very long time.

In some ways, I was free, but really, I was unmoored.

I didn’t like thinking about how I’d lost my connections so suddenly, like an anchor rope sliced through by a blade.

I didn’t even know it was happening until it was too late, and I was on my own.

I had an urge to share this with Huck, but I held back.

There was a part of me that I always kept to myself.

I wanted to be captivating, not messy. Even though Huck was different than the casual flings I used to keep myself warm and I sensed that he’d be safe to share my story with, I liked him—the last thing I wanted was to send him running by recounting my pathetic past.

“Honestly, sometimes it’s not so great,” I admitted.

He nodded, chewing on his lip for a moment before he spoke. “Yeah.”

I could tell that he understood, even though I’d barely said anything.

He got it. I watched him while the hunger to tell him why the statement was true for me became almost irresistible.

My parents left me. One at a time, in short succession.

I could say it, couldn’t I, show him who I really was?

I cleared my throat. “Do you know something about that?”

“I do. And if I’m not mistaken, maybe you do too?”

“It’s not a great story,” I said.

“Seems like it never is. The day I got shipped off to boarding school was one of the best days of my life. Teddy would probably say it’s because that’s the day I met him, but really it’s because of what I got away from.

Anyway, I don’t mean to overshare. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you could tell me…

if you want to. I may not know what your life has been like, or if this place feels like home, but I can say with complete certainty that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now,” Huck said, and I melted into him a little bit. “With anyone else.”

This was what got me. It’s something precious and rare to be chosen.

Especially for someone like me, who was so easily taken for granted and forgotten.

He leaned down then, and I sucked in one quick breath, drinking the last of the air between us the instant before our lips met and thought, Finally .

This was what I needed, the perfect end to the perfect day.

His mouth was soft and confident, lips first, then more, the taste of Bjork like sweet forest dew, the firm pressure of his hand low on my back, the other combed into my hair at the nape of my neck.

One incredible, soulful kiss, slow and deep and so full of longing that I never wanted it to end.

He pulled back for a moment, smoothing my hair and catching a breath.

“Even if I never write another worthwhile thing, this trip will have been worth it.”

“There’s zero percent chance of that happening,” I said.

“I guess I just am not sure I can ever be as good as I was when I had Clark Casablanca narrating in my head. Like I don’t know who I am anymore. That probably sounds dumb.”

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all,” I told him.

“When someone is important to you and they leave, it changes you. Their absence is a gaping hole shaped just like the thing that occupied it. Sort of like the cavern behind the waterfall. It’s not something you just get over by riding stationary bikes and doing some shrooms. The terrain of you as a person will never be the same.

Fictional or not. It’s hard, and it changes you… for better or for worse.”

Huck’s voice was gentle when he responded.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.

You should have the last of the Bjork.” Huck held out the bottle and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

There was something immensely comforting about the way he did this.

I felt so protected and safe, so cared for.

It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time.