Page 14 of Researching the Pole

“You always overextend yourself,” Sam said sternly, setting a full plate in front of Viktor. Second servings. “Eat.”

Viktor waved him off, still grinning at Grant. “He worries too much.”

I pushed a second serving toward Grant, along with a water bottle. “How long have you and Sam been working together?”

“Uhh…ten or so years,” Viktor said around a mouthful of food. “My family wanted to move somewhere warm. So we moved from Russia to Alaska when I was fifteen. That is where I met Sam.”

I paused, confused. “Wait! Your family wanted to move somewhere warm, so you moved to Alaska?”

Viktor started laughing, nearly choking on his food. “Yes! Man, from where I am in Russia, Alaska is warm.”

Grant was grinning at me over his plate, his eyes warm despite the exhaustion still visible in the lines around them. Our knees touched under the table.

“So you and Sam have known each other since you were fifteen?” I asked.

“Da. He taught me to dive. Best teacher.” Viktor’s expression went soft for just a moment before Sam shoved another roll at him.

7

Chapter 7

Back at the cabin, Grant was swaying on his feet. It was late evening. I was still not used to the constant twilight ambiance. It messed with my sense of time. I had to constantly check my wrist watch to orient myself.

“Come on.” I guided him toward the bedroom, steadying him when he stumbled. “Let’s get you out of these layers.”

He let me peel off his heavy outer jacket, compliant as a child. He was taller than me by a few inches and at least fifty pounds heavier. Something about him letting me take care of him tugged at my heartstrings. The mittens came next, then the wool cap that left his hair sticking up in every direction. Adorable.

“Sit,” I said, and he dropped onto the edge of the bed.

I knelt to unlace his boots, hyper-aware of how close I was to a certain area of his anatomy, the heat radiating off his body even through the thermal layers. I pulled off his boots and thick socks, setting them aside.

“Okay, you’re done. Lie down.”

He stretched out on his back with a groan that made my stomach flip. I pulled the blanket up over him, tucking it around his shoulders the way my mom used to do when I was sick. Quietly, I pulled back but his hand caught my wrist. His eyes were half-closed, but his grip was warm and sure.

“Always dreamed of this, Doc,” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion. “Your hands on me.”

My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive. But his eyes had already closed. His breathing evened out almost immediately, his hand going slack against my arm.

I hovered there for a long moment, staring down at him. His face looked younger in sleep, peaceful. The hard lines of competence and leadership smoothed away. My thoughts were a mess. My heart was beating loud enough to drown out all sounds. I backed out of the room, pulling the door mostly closed.

My laptop sat on the small table, data streaming in from the hydrophone array. I opened the analysis software and stared at the waveforms without seeing them. I adjusted filters I’d already optimized hours ago. I checked signal strength I’d verified before. I made myself tea but that just reminded me of the length to which Grant had gone to assure my comforts.

The cabin felt too small. Too warm. Too full of Grant’s presence even with him knocked out in the other room. I couldn’t focus. I checked my watch. It was midnight.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside. The sharp cold cleared my head a bit. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and purple that had no business existing at midnight. I stared at the sun that just wouldn’t set. It just hovered there in perpetual twilight stubbornly, turning the ice chunks in the water into floating gems. Even the sun reminded me of Grant—of his determination, of his persistence, of his stubbornness.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d come here to conduct research. Not have my heart turned inside out in a matter of two days by a man I had tried hard to forget.

I stood there for long moments, surrounded by more beauty than I had words for. Suddenly a crack echoed across the bay—ice shifting somewhere in the darkness. Then another crack followed. The sound was enormous, primal, like the continent itself was breathing. It carried across the water, lonely and wild.

Hairs stood on the back of my neck. Needing to share this moment, I turned to Grant. “Do you hear that, isn’t it incredible—”

My words died. Of course he wasn’t there. He was asleep in our cabin.

I sucked in a breath as the realization hit. My first instinct had been to reach for him. Not a solo “this is scientifically significant” or even “I’m so lucky to witness this” thought.

I wrapped my arms around myself. I tried to find the moment where the arrogant high school jock I’d expected had transformed into whatever Grant actually was. Except he’d never been arrogant. I’d assumed that. I had projected it onto him based on nothing but his popularity and his position on the basketball team. And my own fear.