Page 15 of Hearts Overboard

Port of Call: Juneau, Alaska

I was in a strange town in a strange state with Tanner Woods, and it was all very strange, and it was no wonder I didn’t get an A in English, because I seriously needed another word and a thesaurus.

Why had he suggested this? Because he wanted to see the town and knew they’d tell me to join him? Because he wanted to rob a crab shack and he needed my casing-the-joint skills?

Or because he wanted to spend time with me?

I wasn’t sure why that idea made my heart skip.

We wandered toward the shops and restaurants lining the street across from the harbor, advertising everything from diamonds to T-shirts to smoked salmon.

Tanner entered a gift shop, wandering among the shirts. He hurried to rearrange some, and when he moved on, I peeked. He’d moved a generic Alaska one to the front of a rack to hide a shirt that showed two bears standing next to a van with a stick figure family. One bear was saying, “Hey look, a menu.”

Had he done that for me?

When I glanced at him, he was tugging on a furry hat with ear flaps.

“Very nice,” I said, and my voice might have sounded too high.

“Ooh, samples.” He took off the hat and darted to a wall of food items. “Want to try some? I’ll eat them first and tell you what to expect.”

“I don’t know…”

“Jam. That’s safe.” He spread it on a cracker and ate half. “Totally normal. Blackberry, maybe.”

When he handed me the other half, his eyes were so hopeful. It was like toast. It would be fine. I ate it.

“Yes,” he cheered. “Chocolate. Can’t go wrong there.”

I accepted that without a review from him first.

“Reindeer sausage?” He took a bite.

“I don’t even like regular sausage. Do you know how they make it?”

“Fair enough.” He finished it. “Ooh, salmon. This is your chance, S’more.”

“Yeah, seafood that’s been sitting out sounds like a great introduction to the cuisine.”

“It’s smoked. This stuff lasts forever. They could send it to space, and you like space. Pretend you’re an astronaut.”

“I don’t want to be an astronaut until it’s like in Star Trek with gravity and transporters and food dispensers. If you want food poisoning, be my guest.”

“I do want it. I want all the food poisoning. Sketchy salmon, questionable caribou, dubious deer.”

Now he was just showing off his thesaurus skills.

After he tried the salmon and briefly pretended to choke while I rolled my eyes, we moved on to examine kitchen stuff, jewelry, candles, mugs, giving each other a thumbs-up or thumbs-down on each item. It was easier and easier lately to forget years of disliking him.

I bought fuzzy whale socks and a candle for Jordan and a shirt for myself.

“Are you planning to buy anything or just play with it all?” I asked Tanner.

“I want to get something for my sisters. What about these?” He held up a shirt with an angry cartoon moose that said, “Don’t moose with me.”

I smiled, not at all charmed that he was shopping for his family. “They’ll definitely know it’s from you.”

After he paid, he asked, “Want to get food?”

“Didn’t get enough suspicious samples?”

“Nope, I need more poisoned preserves.”

Eating out on land felt different than ending up in the ship’s dining room at the same time. But I was hungry. “Sure. Something normal, please.”

We stopped in front of a huge corner building with dark red panels called the Red Dog Saloon. Swinging wooden doors covered the entrance.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Why not?”

He started to push the swinging doors with one hand, his other ghosting across my back like he planned to usher me in. But then he stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“Ladies first? Or should I go first in case there’s an old-fashioned bar fight happening?”

A tingle spread through me. “Together?”

We entered side by side into a Wild West explosion. Sawdust covered the floor, old-time piano music drifted from the back, and the walls held enough taxidermy caribou heads to pull three of Santa’s sleighs.

“Do you think one of those was Rudolph?” I asked.

“I feel like a gunfight is going to break out any second,” Tanner said. “I love it.”

We took seats at a slightly sticky table.

“Why don’t you try one thing?” he asked. “What’s the item on the menu you’ve never had that sounds the least scary?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Just because something sounds okay doesn’t mean it will be.”

“If you don’t like it, you can spit it out. I’ll take a bite too, and make a huge show of spitting it out so no one will notice you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Trust me, I know you don’t mind making a scene. But it’s rude to insult their food. Plus, it would make people look at us.”

He shrugged. “If people are looking at you, you should give them what they expect.”

His expression was blank, his tone flat. I knew he liked to make people laugh, but I was starting to suspect there was something deeper than that. A saloon didn’t seem the place to ask.

After Tanner’s jab about chicken nuggets and chocolate milk, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but chicken tenders were the safest option. He didn’t comment on my order.

While we waited for our food, we pointed out the craziest decorations. It felt like I was with Jordan, with a friend. Then we posted pictures and videos from the excursion.

I stared for too long at a picture I’d taken of Tanner holding a puppy. It was causing strange sensations in my stomach. It could have been a freaking ad for Alaskan tourism. Tourism and toothpaste, with his teeth gleaming white as the snow in his giant grin. If a puppy adoption group used this picture, people would be fighting each other off with chew toys to adopt the dogs.

We showed each other our favorites. He had a great one of me and my dad, and I’d gotten one of his dad looking back, with the running sled dogs behind him.

I immediately got a text from Jordan. Tanner AND puppies??? How has your brain not exploded?

Me: It might have…

Jordan: It doesn’t look like you’re having the worst time.

Me: I haven’t wanted to murder him for…maybe a day?

Jordan: Wow. Is that a record?

I laughed.

Tanner looked up.

Guilt surged through me. He was helping me. I’d had fun. He’d been less obnoxious than usual lately. How many days had passed since I’d found him annoying? Surely we were in record-breaking territory.

“Hopefully this will make Caveman see what he’s missing,” he said, something flickering in his eyes.

Right. Caleb.

Letting Tanner assume my mind was on my ex was better than him knowing he’d been the one I was texting my best friend about. I’d thought about Caleb’s dog today more than I had about my ex-boyfriend.

It hadn’t occurred to me earlier, but today was Saturday, our day to go to the park. Was he walking the dog without me? Missing me? He’d liked my zip line post, but he hadn’t commented.

Our food arrived, my chicken and Tanner’s fried fish.

Tanner dunked a fry in ketchup. “What’s up with the food thing?”

“What do you mean?” I tested the ranch dressing to ensure normalcy before dipping a chicken finger in it.

“Do you really have no interest in trying anything different? Do you have allergies?” He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious, and he wasn’t shoving a snail in my face or mocking my meal, so I decided to answer.

“No allergies that I know of. I just like simple stuff.”

“But what if you haven’t discovered your favorite food yet because you haven’t tried it? What if there’s something better out there, waiting to be discovered, and you miss out on something you might love?” He was leaning toward me across the table, his face earnest.

“What if I’m happy with what I know? Why bother looking elsewhere when I already have something good?”

“Are you settling for fine, though, instead of looking for great?”

He held my gaze, our meals temporarily forgotten. Every detail of the room except Tanner’s face had become a blur. My heart thudded in my ears.

Were we still talking about food?

He leaned back, the intense expression fading. “Have you ever had Thai? Or Cuban? Or gyros?”

I swallowed before asking, “Do you like those?”

“I like everything except apples.”

That was a random single food to hate. “I had ramen once. The real kind, not the stuff in Styrofoam.”

His eyes twinkled. “Wow. Impressive. And?”

“I know you’re mocking me. And I got food poisoning.”

“Oh. That sucks. So any food you’ve never tried is automatically suspect now?”

“I know what I like. Why risk trying something I don’t like when I know I’ll be happy with the usual?”

“If you say so. I hardly think one bad experience should affect your life, but…”

More than food had led to bad experiences. But I didn’t want to press my luck by telling him about the other situations.

“Did you like it?” he asked. “Before you got sick?”

“I guess so, but it’s hard to remember, since I associate it with, uh, what came after.”

He nodded thoughtfully instead of making a joke. “That would be hard to get over. My mom used to give me blue Gatorade when I was sick, and now I won’t touch it even if it’s the end of a three-hour practice and that’s the only thing available. Oh, apples and Gatorade, then.”

The lack of mocking, the understanding, were totally breaking my brain.

After we finished eating, we wandered outside.

“What else do you want to do today?” he asked.

“Could we check out the tram?”

He fake gasped. “Is this Savannah Moore, wanting to try something new?”

I shoved his arm and he staggered, pretending I’d pushed him hard, and laughed.

“No really, is that your ideal date? Riding a tram?”

My heart stuttered, and I tried to keep my voice light. “Is that what this is?”

“Of course not. I was just curious if Caveman ever took you on a tram.”

“I don’t think there is one in LA.”

“If he wanted to make it happen, that shouldn’t stop him.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously, though. What’s the best date you’ve ever beenon?”

Why the sudden interest? “Um, I don’t know. I like doing things together. Having someone with you to share an experience and stuff you like.”

“What would be your ideal day?” he asked.

“I’d go for a run. Maybe watch a movie. I like the tar pits and the Natural History Museum. The observatory or the zoo. Milkshakes, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He was waiting, so I let the words keep coming. “I guess there are places I wouldn’t mind seeing. I’ve always wanted to visit the San Diego Air and Space Museum.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Don’t laugh, but the idea intimidates me? I get overwhelmed with not knowing what to expect. Where to park, how bad would traffic be, what food they’d have. I don’t love going into new situations unprepared. You probably never worry about that.”

“I tend to jump right in. Which often leads to problems, so your way might not be the worst.”

My face was hot, and I cleared my throat. “What about you? What’s your ideal day?” I made sure to enunciate so he didn’t hear date.

“Hmm. Kind of the same. Work out. Watch football. Be with people I like and do something fun. Doesn’t matter what it is. It can be low-key. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work with the girls I went out with.”

“They weren’t fun?”

“I don’t know. There was always something missing once I got to know them.”

“Are you saying you needed more than fun? Like, something deeper and serious?” I gasped. “Who are you and what have you done with Tanner?”

His lip quirk said he recognized my using his words against him. “They expected me to provide the fun. To be on all the time, like I was a source of entertainment. And yeah, I’m an entertaining guy.”

“You think you are, anyway.”

“It’s a fact, S’more. But that’s a lot of pressure. If I ever wanted to be serious or I had a bad day or wanted to chill, they’d get, like, disappointed. I couldn’t be real.”

“I’m sorry. Everyone needs people you can just be you with. Did you—” I stopped. Was digging deeper wise?

“What?” he asked.

“Did you ever try to be real? Share or open up?”

“You ask hard questions.” He elbowed me. “I guess I didn’t. Not really. And they never asked hard questions, so.” He lifted a shoulder. “Could you be real with Caleb? Is that what you liked about him?”

“Sort of? I don’t know if that’s why I liked him. He was dependable and serious. We liked the same things.” I sniffed. “I thought we did, anyway.”

“Now what didn’t you like?”

“What?”

“Other than the way he broke up with you, which clearly shows bad judgment, and his appalling obliviousness to sarcasm, what didn’t you like?”

I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, there was the sarcasm thing. He didn’t catch half of my jokes and always took me seriously. At first I would explain myself, but the last couple months I didn’t bother.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know…”

“No one’s perfect, right? You’re great at pointing out when I annoy you. This might help you process.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to process. I wanted to undo what had happened. Was that the same thing? “Um. He bent the pages in books.”

“That animal,” Tanner said.

“Oh, okay, he would always ask the same questions, like, all the time. How are you, how’s your day, what’s new. Even if we’d spoken an hour ago.”

“S’more hates small talk. Noted.”

“It’s just so unnecessary. And when I’d respond with same as an hour ago, he would nod like my reply fascinated him. Sometimes he didn’t like my ideas, but he never had his own. We never even said I love you. A few times I thought he might be preparing to say it, and I freaked out because I didn’t want to say it back.” My voice had grown more animated, and I couldn’t believe I’d admitted all that aloud.

“Feel better?” Tanner asked.

“I do, actually.” Lighter. Like a spaceship jettisoning its rockets. Like dropping baggage.

“Excellent. Now, are we talking or are we riding this thing?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” I said.

That had been yet another strange conversation. But, not terrible?

The base of the tram wasn’t far from the cruise ship, in a small red-and-white building with lots of windows. I studied the cables, the red-and-white cars, the engine.

Tanner craned his neck to watch the cars overhead. “Of course, the new thing you want to see involves science.”

“Hey, you asked. We don’t have to ride it.”

“Are you kidding? Of course we’re riding it. I don’t want to have anything in common with Caveman, so I will take you on a tram.”

I snorted.

“You could build something like this. Like your bridge and your rocket? Or a working tram can be your next LEGO project.”

Or something I’d work on in the physics program? The idea took shape in my head, so when Tanner’s hand pressed my back to steer me into the tram line, I barely contained a jump.

Why did this feel like a date?

We boarded the car, which hung from overhead cables. Benches lined the walls of the cabin, but we stood at the back window. As the tram rose and swayed, our arms pressed against each other. Tanner didn’t move away. I didn’t, either.

The town spread out below us: cars and buses, buildings, and two cruise ships. What was the angle of this cable? We seemed to be traveling vertically up the forested mountain, with the bay below. Soon the giant ships looked like toys.

“Why doesn’t this make you nervous?” Tanner asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t like new foods. You don’t want to drive off the road or see bears. But a tiny car hanging on a wire going up a mountain doesn’t bother you?”

I shrugged. “The engineering is solid. I know how it works. Does it make you nervous?”

“Nah, I only get nervous when other people are upset with me or when it’s been a whole day and no one has texted me. So the cruise ship, the zip line, the helicopter, were fine?”

His answer was more revealing than he realized. “I prefer the ship. It’s large and sturdy. But yeah. When I understand something, it’s easier to trust.”

“Hmm.” We studied each other in our reflections in the window for several seconds, long enough that I started to wonder what he was thinking.

And long enough for me to consider the words I’d said. Was I only talking about the tram?

Our conversations had too many possible double meanings today.

Life was easier when we were making fun of each other. Or not speaking at all.

The cable car deposited us on a ridge halfway up the mountain, and we followed a sky bridge to land. I craned my neck to study the mechanisms as the car hovered above us.

A big building had snacks, coffee, and a gift shop, plus outside viewing decks with vistas of the mountains and the entire channel, water and hills stretching forever.

“Now what?” I asked.

“You just wanted to ride the tram, not explore?”

“Yep.”

Tanner laughed.

“But we can explore if you want,” I said.

We had come all the way up here. There were lots of people, a building. It wasn’t too remote. Surely the bears stayed away, right?

Or they knew to find a buffet.

A trail led away from the visitors center along the ridge, so we wandered down it, taking our time to enjoy the views. Purple and yellow flowers bloomed in a meadow, and a large bird, an eagle or a raptor, soared overhead.

I wanted to be able to enjoy the fresh air and views without worrying that every movement was a bear or imagining us getting lost in the wilderness. Why couldn’t my normally logical brain stop jumping to the worst conclusions whenever nature was involved?

Tanner maintained a running commentary about how great dogsledding had been, and I found myself relaxing. He made me feel safer, like if I was with him, nothing bad could happen.

I must have jumped when I saw a shadow, because he slowed, studied the area where I’d mistaken a rock for a man-eating animal then asked, “Why this fear, S’more? The bears. For real?”

His voice was soft. His eyes were shadowed under dark brows, but gentle. He seemed to want to know, and I found that I needed him to understand.

“My mom divorced my bio dad when I was five, but he had visitation rights.”

“Bio dad? Oh right. I always forget your dad’s not, like—”

“He is my dad now, in every way that matters.”

“Of course he is. Bio dad. Makes sense. Sorry, go on.”

“I was six, and it was my weekend with him. This was before we moved to LA. We were supposed to stay at his place, this small apartment in San Diego, and go to LEGOLAND. But he decided last-minute to take me camping.”

“Ooh, no LEGOs and a sudden change of plans? Major fail, bio dad.”

He said it so seriously, not like he was making fun of me but like he truly agreed it was awful, and I laughed briefly.

“Yeah. So we had this tent at a state park. I woke up in the middle of the night, and I had to go to the bathroom. But he wouldn’t go with me, told me to go alone.”

Tanner made an angry, strangled noise.

“I was terrified, but I went. Found the creepy building, you know, those awful campground ones with metal toilets and spider nests and ghosts of campers murdered in the woods.”

“Oh, yeah, all of those are definitely haunted.”

“When I was done, I got lost trying to find our tent. There were so many paths and trees, and so many noises. Rustling in the bushes. Now, I know it was probably squirrels or raccoons, but I was six, and it was dark, and I was scared.” I shivered, and Tanner reached out and rubbed my arm.

“I was convinced a bear or wolf was going to eat me, and I panicked. Ran to the nearest tent and shook it until the people came out. Thankfully, it was a nice older couple, not a serial killer. I was sobbing, and they tried to find where I came from but I couldn’t talk. A park ranger got involved, then the police, and they questioned my dad. That was the last in a long line of plan changes and disappointments, and my mom had been trying to get full custody. After that, he decided he was done, which was fine by me.”

Tanner’s hand was still on my arm. “That’s awful. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you ever see him now?”

“Sometimes I get a birthday card like a month early or a month late.”

“It’s great that you got an upgrade in the dad department.”

“I definitely did,” I said. “So yeah, I know there isn’t a bear around every corner, but my mind goes back to that moment when I was alone and scared, and I can’t stop it.”

“That’s why you don’t want to go camping for the meteor shower.”

I shuddered. “I know you’re right, that it would be an amazing view.”

“I’m sorry, did you admit that I was right?” His smile and his voice were gentle.

“I’m not saying it again,” I said. “Besides, the observatory is much—”

“Safer. Closer. Less likely to have wild animals, unless you count Brady or a bear learns to navigate the 405.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me. For trusting me.”

My chest twisted. “Thanks for not laughing.”

“S’more. Savannah. I wouldn’t, not about something like that. You know that, right?”

He bent close to study me, his eyes a clear gray. His voice was rough, and I bobbed my head. To my surprise, I did know. We studied each other until a flash of movement made us turn.

A bald eagle had landed on a tree stump yards away. We froze. It was elegant and majestic, with a wicked curved beak and intelligent gold eyes. It lifted off, graceful, and soared away, and Tanner and I looked at each other again with soft smiles.

I thought of our earlier conversation about an ideal day. Or date. Or whatever. Not that this was a date. But it would have made a pretty perfect one.

Tanner had me pose for a selfie with the view behind us, pressed his cheek against mine. I jumped, then tried to smile. His face was warm, and the slightest bit of stubble on his jaw rubbed my cheek as his face split into a grin.

Another eagle took flight inside my chest.

We went back to the visitors center. The sun was getting lower, but there was still lots of light, gentle and warm, muting the colors in a way that felt like magic.

“Want to hike down instead of taking the tram?” he asked.

I’d seen people hiking on an official trail when we rode up. “Why not?”

The trail was steep, leading through dense rainforest with thick, humid air. Rocks and roots jutted up through the dirt path, and patches were thick with mud. I took bags of Goldfish from my backpack and handed one to Tanner, which made him laugh.

The trees blocked the light, making the air cool, and green light enveloped us. Something about telling Tanner my fear, or maybe his presence, allowed my worries to fade. We walked in pleasant silence until my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out to find a text from my mom saying Where are you???

The multiple question marks made me stumble. I saw the time at the top of my screen.

Oh no.