“He’s a wild animal.”
“I know. But what’s his name.”
Koen’s brow furrows. “He doesn’t have one.”
“What? Why?”
“What does he need a name for?”
“I don’t know. For when you talk about him?”
“With whom?”
“The vet? The store clerk, when you buy his kibble?” Koen looks like I just suggested that we take the river otters and put them up at a five-star hotel. “Okay, clearly you don’t do that. But- ” Abruptly, the wolf dog tenses and gallops away. “Don’t leave. Did we offend you?” I pout- until I spot the squirrel he’s chasing.
“Those fuckers,” Koen mutters, clearly empathizing. He turns to me. Scans my face, then my body under the flannel I stole from his closet to sleep in. “You look better,” he declares. “Less like you’re going to collapse and start fertilizing the meadow.”
Hard to believe, after I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror this morning- something I’ve been studiously avoiding. “You’re just saying that to be kind.”
“If I’ve given you the impression that I’m kind, something is very wrong, either with me or with you. Ready to make your debut in Northwest society?”
“Almost.”
“Almost?” He’s amused. “What important business do you have on your plate, killer?”
I pretend to think about it. Then, still cross-legged next to his chair, I lift my two closed fists and ask, “Which one?”
He sits back. “There’s nothing in your hands, Serena.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s all in my head. Choose.”
“What the hell is this, now?” He sounds fed up. A little pained.
“It’s a game Misery and I used to play growing up. We couldn’t exactly go out shopping and buy presents most of the time, so when we wanted to do something nice for each other . . .” I show him my fists. “Choose one.”
He points at my right. Which is for the best. “You get coffee,” I tell him, holding out the mug.
“Hang on. What would I have gotten if I’d chosen the other?”
“A hug.”
His eyes widen. Then squint. “What if I want to change my answer?”
“First of all, we both know you don’t.” I nudge the mug up at him until he has no choice but to accept it. “Secondly, you can’t. This is like when Misery decided that she wanted me to clean her room instead of giving her a kiss on the cheek.”
Koen frowns. “I want a kiss on the cheek.”
“You can’t change your mind after you pick- that’s the whole point of the game. And the kiss wasn’t even an option for you.”
“Bullshit. I want both options.”
“No way.” I snort. “That’s not how the world works- you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. When you make a choice, you miss out on what you didn’t pick. There’s always a price to pay. In real life, and in the game.”
“It’s a dumb fucking game, then.” He looks at his coffee like it’s made of decaying organs. “How do I know that you didn’t switch the prizes?”
I gasp. “How dare you accuse me?”
“You are an infamous and self-admitted liar.”
“But I would never violate the sacrosanctity of the game.” I rise to my feet as haughtily as I can. “Enjoy your coffee while I get dressed.”
It’s not until I’m in my room that I remember: I do not own a single stitch of clothing.
Look at her. Just- look at her.
ONCE AGAIN, I SHOW A SHAMEFUL LACK OF RESTRAINT AT THE way the coast unfolds before my eyes. I take in the rugged shorelines, gasp dramatically, and say “Oh my God” about fifteen times, pressing my forehead to the cool glass of the passenger window to get a better view. Everywhere my eyes land is blue and green, dense and jagged, beachy, woodsy. When Koen catches me craning my neck backward to study a sea stack, the car slows down for me to admire the view.
Or maybe there’s a speed limit, who knows?
This place is so peaceful. So mysterious and nostalgic. The vegetation is not unlike the forest around my old cabin, but that was inland. The ocean makes it even more breathtaking. In my previous life I longed to travel, but that required money, and I tended to use what little I had on other luxuries. Eating, for instance. Not sleeping on park benches. Paying taxes that financed my very own surveillance. How very full circle of me.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” I declare, and Koen’s self-congratulatory smile has me shaking my head with laughter. “You know you have no reason to look so smug, right? It’s not your coast.”
“It is my territory.”
“Sure, but it’s not like you built that offshore rock formation over there.”
“As far as you know. And you might want to stop contradicting me in the heart of my region, where my every word is law.”
“All I’m saying is, you can’t take credit for it.”
He gives me a flat look. “I can tie you to an anvil and throw you from that cliff, though. And no one will ever know.”
I chuckle, wondering how many of these threats he follows through with. “It’s not the huge compliment you’re making it out to be.” I lean into the back seat to pilfer Koen’s zip- up hoodie. He doesn’t need it, because he has furnace genes. I’ll repossess it. Use it as a blanket. “I’ve only ever been in the Southwest. We’re working out of a pool of two.”
“At least you like mine better than Lowe’s.”
“We’re still talking about the landscapes, right?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
I laugh again, and we roll into a place that looks like the quaint seaside towns I sometimes see in movies, the ones where fiscally conservative people go for weekends of antiquing, dinner parties, and discreet cheating on their spouses. “Where are we?”
“A bit outside the Den. A friend of mine owns a store here.”
“Look at you guys. Having stores.”
He pulls the hand brake. “And indoor plumbing. And statistics.”
“And sarcasm?”
“You catch up quickly. Come on.”
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