Page 143 of One Last Chance

Tillie—oh, the waitress at the Skyport. “What? Wait—how do you know that?”

“I went to the diner . . . and she’d quit. Or left or . . . anyway, I don’t know. She told her manager that she needed to take some time, but she gave no reason, and no one has seen her since.”

“So, not necessarily missing, then. Simply gone from your life.”

Moose’s mouth tightened around the edges.

Ah. So they were going with missing. “You don’t know where she lives?”

“How would I know that?”

Testy. Axel raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry.” Moose shook his head. “No clue. And I asked the manager. She won’t give it out. I even called Dawson.”

“Wow. That’s desperate.”

“Dawson and I are cool. And he’s family, so . . .”

“Right. He dig up anything?”

Moose shook his head, and Axel hated the misery on his brother’s face. He might look the same way if Flynn suddenly disappeared out of his life.

But Moose was right—he couldn’t hold her hostage in Alaska.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to, because a knock sounded at the door and Flynn stuck her head in. Smiled at him.

And there went the full breath, filling up inside him again. See, they’d both survived, and they’d figure this out. Because they were meant for each other; he knew it in his bones.

“Hey, Flynn,” Moose said. “Did you finish up your report at the sheriff’s office?”

“Yeah.” She stepped inside. She wore a pair of jeans, a new Copper Mountain sweatshirt, her hair pulled back and up. And she carried car keys and a cup of coffee.

She smiled tightly at Moose, and suddenly everything felt a little . . .

“Moose, can I talk to Axel alone?”

Calm down. He wouldn’t mind some alone time with her. But the way she caught Moose’s arm as he walked by her, looked up and said, “Thank you for everything,” set a boulder inside him.

He was panicking. “Moose, score me one of Mom’s cinnamon rolls, will you?”

“Yep.” Moose lifted his coffee. “See you ‘round, Flynn.”

Then he left, and she simply stood at the end of Axel’s bed. Looking beautiful and perfect and . . . sad.

He moved his oxygen mask aside. “Hey,” he said.

She swallowed, and even from here it looked . . .

“Have you been crying?”

She took a breath. “Uh, I . . .” Her gaze went to the window, followed by a sigh. “How are you?”

“They’re pumping me with antibiotics, and I’m not at full O2 levels yet, but I’m alive. I guess you had something to do with that? I didn’t know you went into the pit after me.”

She raised a shoulder. And he got it. She’d gotten him into this mess.

“Flynn—”

---