Page 4 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“Yeah.”

“You go to the funeral?”

I nod, but I don’t move any closer to him. This nice guy act of his won’t last. He wants something. Either to mess with me, or he’s got some delusional idea about us getting back together.

“Your big brother’s probably creaming his jeans. Murder’s a step up from drunken fishermen brawling in the streets.”

Here’s the Hayden I remember. I roll my bike to the street and jump on. “See you around.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t try to stop me. Moments later his jeep rumbles to life. My skin prickles and I pedal faster. All I have to do is make it to the bike path, and I’ll be safe.

But the hum of his jeep’s engine fades, like he’s driving in the opposite direction. I risk a look back and just catch the glow of his taillights as he crests the top of the hill.

I settle in to my ride, the scent of pine and salt in the air soothing my frazzled senses. The overcast sky is a soft gray, lifting occasionally to reveal the forested lowlands and deep valleys. By the time I reach the bus stop, it’s drizzling hard enough that I pull on the high-tech raincoat my brothers bought me.

Once I’m on the bus, I heave a hard sigh, fogging up the window. With Hayden around, my summer just got more complicated. It’s almost enough to make me consider buying a car. Electric ones are getting more affordable, and we now have two charging stations in the valley. Maybe it’s time to revisit the idea of installing a few at the lodge.

But a car isn’t the answer. I just need to keep standing up to Hayden, like tonight. He didn’t come after me, right? It worked. And I only visit town twice a week. Hayden doesn’t come to Soren Lake Lodge, and I doubt he’ll start.

As long as I keep my guard up, I’ll be fine.

The bus drops me at the pass, and I pedal the last of my worries away. The rainclouds lift and the air brightens and warms to a sultry thickness that tastes of fresh earth and honey. As I near the road’s end, the distant ridges and snowy mountains that frame the lake basin rise into view.

Home.

In the parking lot, there’s another surprise—my brothers are here. Thankfully Hunter’s driven his truck and not his McKenzie County Sheriff’s Department SUV—wouldn’t want to scare our lodge guests. Evan and Jared’s old truck is here, next to Cooper’s silver Ford.

Did I forget we were having a family dinner tonight? Everyone gets so busy during the summer, and I work most nights, so our regular family gatherings get sporadic.

Could they know about Hayden and they’re gracing me with a courtesy call before they beat him to a pulp? That’s why I could never ask them for help. If my brothers knew the kind of person Hayden turned out to be, they’d do something about it, and I’m not about to drag them into my troubles. My family has had enough of those.

Is it Grams? Shit. I hang my mountain bike inside the shed Evan and Jared built for me and lock it, then race up the sandy path.

When I burst through the front door, all eyes turn to me—including Grandma’s. Relief trickles into my gut that nobody’s hurt or missing or in trouble.

“Hey,” I say in a breathless rush, unzipping my coat. Our Chocolate Lab, Charlie, trots over, a sock in his mouth, to greet me. “Everything okay?”

My two oldest brothers take after our dad—tall and burly. Hunter is a former Navy SEAL turned local cop and could intimidate the Hulk. Cooper is leaner and not as bossy. Though he’s protective of those he loves, nothing rattles him. Evan is shorter with sandy brown hair like our mom’s, but restless like me. When he was using, he scared the hell out of me. Now he’s who I gravitate to the most. Maybe because we’re both passionate and impulsive.

“We’ve got some bad news,” Cooper says after we’ve hugged.

“You’re all here,” I joke. “So it can’t be that bad.”

None of them smile.

An ember snaps in the wood stove, drawing my attention to the living room and the collection of papers set in the center of the coffee table. Because the papers have been folded into thirds to fit into an envelope, they don’t sit flat. This shouldn’t unnerve me, but it does.

Cooper, Grams and I settle on the couch while Evan fidgets on the edge of the chair and Hunter stands with his arms crossed, facing the door.

“The state turned down the proposal for Soren Creek Preserve,” Evan says, his face tight.

My face prickles. “Why?”

“There’s some kind of claim in the upper watershed. A good part of it impacts the preserve boundary.”

For months we’ve been coordinating the completion of the Soren Creek Preserve with the Alaska Land Bureau, the mission Granddad dedicated the final years of his life to. Everything was in place—paperwork and meetings and payments.

I glance at the papers on the table. “What do you mean by ‘claim’?”

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