Return By Air – Tracey Jerald Page 0,97

her.

“Paying bills. I’m trying to figure out how my electric bill for our apartment went up while we haven’t been there,” she grouses. Tipping her head back, her lips twist. “You must know how it is. One month the water or heat is up, the next it’s the electric or there’s some odd bank charge that’s never been there before.”

“Is it always this bad?”

She shakes her head. “Summers are always a bit tricky,” she admits on a small moan when I rub the knot at the base of her neck. “God, I’ll give you a million of my nonexistent dollars not to stop.”

“How about I exchange it for kisses?” I suggest.

She laughs before turning back to her laptop. “Better currency anyway.”

My eyes bug out at the minuscule amount in her checking account. “I’ve got to ping Reg about the holdup,” I mutter aloud.

“Who’s that?” she murmurs, distracted.

“I’ll tell you later. Jesus, Kara. What bills do you have each month?” I demand.

As Kara details her monthly expenses, she includes a college tuition payment. “Kevin’s only taking one course, you said,” I interrupt, reminding her of what she told me when I first came back to Alaska.

“True, but I enrolled him into the prepaid college plan, Jennings. I locked in his tuition when he was a baby, so it’s affordable and gives him a solid degree with no student loans,” she patiently explains, when I’m anything but that. “Look,” she urges. A few quick clicks of her fingers pulls up Kevin’s payment schedule for a four-year state university including room and board. “I started this months after he was born.” Her finger trails alongside the screen reverently. “It was worth everything to give him this start in life,” she assures me.

“Even putting your dream of a house on hold?” I ask gruffly. Kara keeps devastating me. Between giving up on being a scientist and what should be a more attainable goal of owning a home, I’m shook to the core once again by her selflessness.

Her hand comes up to rest on mine, giving it a quick squeeze. “Jennings, aspirations can be accomplished no matter the age. Men and women run marathons in their eighties. People who are physically challenged climb mountains. Dreams are meant to shift, and we’re meant to adapt along with them. Otherwise”—a wicked expression lights her face—“I’d still be dreaming of boy bands instead of pilots.”

I reward her with a kiss to the forehead. “What do you want now?” I ask, and not just because I’m curious but because my world is contingent upon the answer.

“Building a home filled with love. It doesn’t matter if it’s an apartment or a house,” she declares resolutely, shoving her laptop aside. “Now, bill paying always depresses me. I feel like chocolate; you in?”

I nod, even though the last thing I feel like doing is swallowing the silver foil-wrapped drops she places into my hand. That is until she murmurs, “I can’t wait to taste your lips after you’ve eaten those.”

Immediately tearing into the foil, I shove the bite between my teeth and chomp down much to Kara’s amusement. Standing, she tugs my head down and keeps her promise to taste the candy off my lips. “Tastes so much better this way,” she decides, before walking away calling out to Kevin. “Sweetheart, there’s chocolate if you want some!”

“Later, Mom! Brooks and I are…ah, no! Go left!”

“And on that note, I’m going to curl up in front of the TV. Want to join me?”

“In just a minute,” I agree. Kara smiles before heading into the living room to command control of the remote.

I want to pick up the laptop and hurl it across the room, my frustration is so great. But I exhale knowing soon, she won’t be worried about things like electric bills, I think in disgust. Kevin’s college payments will be a thing of the past.

And once Kara understands this isn’t because she hasn’t done a phenomenal job providing for our son but because I want to protect the family we’re building, maybe she’ll actually understand why I did it without finishing our conversation. Because the prideful woman who just sat at that table is going to kill me.

But like Reg warned me, once the money hits her account, there’s no way to reverse it.

Shoving that thought aside, I lower the lid on her laptop and turn. Then I groan aloud. “No, Kara. Really? We’re not watching Building Alaska when we’re in Alaska, are we?”

“Sure we are. I love watching people who

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