North Country
K.A. Tucker
Author’s Note
This story is intended for an adult audience. It includes nongraphic references to murder, accidental death, and violence, mostly off page, some of which involves a minor. The story also discusses trauma, post-incarceration psychological distress, and sexual situations. There are explicit references to familial loss and suicidal ideation, mostly off page. Please read with care.
To my Canadian readers, this one feels like coming home.
Canada, now.
Canada, always.
Playlist
Available on Spotify
Pg. 1: “Santa Monica” by Theory of a Deadman Pg. 51: “4AM” by Our Lady Peace
Pg. 58: “Long Time Running” by The Tragically Hip Pg. 100: “Quitter” by Cameron Whitcomb
Pg. 109: “Blown Wide Open” by Big Wreck Pg. 129: “Wheat Kings” by the Tragically Hip Pg. 134: “Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin & Alessia Cara Pg. 173: “Home” by Matthew Hall
Pg. 226: “Quitting You” by Arkells
Pg. 256: “You and Me” by Cameron Whitcomb Pg. 277: “Silent Night” by Sarah McLachlin Pg. 291: “Everything is Alright” by Glorious Sons Pg. 295: “Holly Jolly Christmas” by Jeff Straker Pg. 298: “The Breakdown” by The Trews
Pg. 305: “Next to You” by Charlotte Cardin Pg. 331: “Sing Me a Song” by William Prince & Serena Ryder Pg. 325: “Gordon in the Willows” by Patrick Watson & Charlotte Cardin Pg. 357: “Weak in the Knees (Acoustic Version)” by Serena Ryder Pg. 364: “New Plan” by The Glorious Sons Pg. 377: “Feels Like Home” by Chantal Kreviazuk
Chapter 1
Emery
Twenty years ago, May
“Busted!” Logan’s chuckle carries over the music.
“Damn it.” My curse is punctuated with a creak as I try to slip up the stairs unnoticed. There’s no point in this charade anymore. I run the rest of the way, taking the steps two at a time, until I reach the loft above the Landrys’ garage that has become our sanctuary.
Logan is sprawled out in the middle of it on his back. The only thing between his solid six-foot-two frame and the plywood floor is an unzipped sleeping bag that never leaves this room. The window on the far side welcomes in afternoon sunlight, and the rays capture the dust in the air. A five-disc stereo system clunks and whirs as it shuffles noisily to another CD, its display lights flashing like an ’80s techno party.
“Took you long enough.” He sounds groggy. I’ll bet he drifted off.
“I had a long shift.” I drop to my knees behind his head and peer into golden-hazel eyes that are indeed bleary from sleep. My stomach flutters. It always does around him.
He inhales. “You smell like chlorine.”
“Yeah, I had to pull a kid out of the pool.” I lean down to plant an upside-down kiss on his mouth before whispering, “Happy birthday.”
His plump lips curve into a smile. “Thanks. ”
“You’re officially an adult.” I don’t turn eighteen until September, when we’re in Toronto for university. We were both accepted into the University of Toronto’s downtown campus—me, for criminology, Logan for mechanical engineering.
“That’s right, I am.” In the next beat, he’s reaching over his head to grab my ribs. I squeal as he lifts and flips me around to land against him with little effort. Another quick move and he has me on my back, my arms pinned over my head with one hand, long since calloused from helping around his family’s bison ranch. “Are we still allowed to do this?” He punctuates the question by slipping his free hand under my shirt.
“Yes. As long as you’re not in a position of authority over me.”
Logan’s face dips toward my neck, his lips finding a sensitive spot below my earlobe. “Okay, Officer McAllister.”
“Wait! I want to give you your present.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” He guides my shirt up.
The warm spring air grazes my bare skin, stirring a base need. “No!” I tug against my restraints, but I can’t break free. He’s too strong. “I’ve been sitting on this forever.”
His fingertip traces the seam of my lacy bra before relenting with a groan of frustration as he releases me.
From my pocket, I slide out the envelope.
Logan’s eyebrow arches with interest as he collects it and gives it a shake.
I bite my bottom lip to quell my excitement.
“You’re kidding me.” He holds up the receipt for the two VIP Edgefest concert tickets, his eyes wide with disbelief. “But how? I couldn’t get through!”
My laughter is giddy. “I hit redial, like, a million times, as soon as they went on sale—”
He cuts off my words with a hard kiss before whispering, “This is fucking amazing. I wanted to go so bad.” I get another kiss and then, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I beam, grazing my nose against his. “You have no idea how hard this was to keep secret. I almost ruined the surprise so many times. ”