She bites the tip of her finger. “I’m sorry, I get carried away. I’ve been doing a lot of reading in preparation for this trip, and my brain is full of so many facts, sometimes they just come out of my mouth. I can stop talking if you’d like.” She motions to the phone in my hands with the earbuds wrapped around it.

I slip it into my pocket. “Nah, you’re more interesting than anything I could listen to on there.”

Her smile widens, and then she ducks her head again, blushing. God, I miss shy women. The kind who don’t throw themselves at me looking to fuck a star.

“What about you? Why are you coming to Kodiak Island?” She looks me over in an assessing way, as if she’s trying to figure me out.

I’m dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. “I come out here every summer to fish with my brother, but he can’t make it this year, so I’m on my own.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

I shrug. “I’m okay with it. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from all the crazy and be at peace with nature, you know?”

“I definitely do. I went to school in Seattle for a year. Well, more like a month. It was a lot.” She shudders and shakes her head. “I’m not from the city. Our town had less than two thousand people, so it was a big change. Cities can be exciting—but scary. Are you from Seattle?”

“I grew up in New York.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there, but it looks so . . . overwhelming.”

“Well, to be fair, I grew up in Upstate New York, which is nothing like the city. It’s pretty rural in some areas.”

“Oh yes, I read that somewhere.”

The pilot informs us that we’re cleared for takeoff. Lainey hugs her mittens to her chest as we head for the runway.

“You okay?”

“I’ve never been on a plane this small before,” she says.

“We’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve done this at least twenty times, and I’ve survived every one.”

Her eyes are wide as she nods, then looks out the window as we gather speed. When the wheels lift off the tarmac, she grips my forearm. “Oh! This is a lot bumpier than the big plane, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. A bit. You’ll get used to it.”

She releases my arm and hugs her mittens again. “Today is actually the first time I’ve ever been on a plane.”

“Really?”

“The first flight was nice. I mean, there was a very old man beside me with a lot of nose hairs who smelled like mothballs, but he was fine otherwise. You’re much nicer smelling than he was.” She blushes again. “Anyway, I guess on a plane this small you feel everything more.”

This woman is such a breath of fresh air. And her innocence is alluring, especially since I’m going to be on my own for the next few weeks. Kodiak Island is fairly expansive, though, so there’s a good chance this short flight is all I’ll see of her. I’m going to make the most of this hour of normalcy. “I can’t believe this is your first time flying.”

“I usually take the train if I go anywhere. But there’s no train to the island, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the long ferry ride, so here I am.” We hit a spot of turbulence, and she makes a squeaky sound, then buries her face against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles into my arm. “You don’t even know me, and I’m using you like a teddy bear.”

I laugh. “I’d climb into your lap so you can cuddle with me, but I don’t think I’ll fit.” But she’d sure fit nicely in my lap.

“Sadly, no—you’re kind of huge.” She gives my biceps a squeeze and releases it on a slow exhale.

“What if I just do this?” I slip an arm around her shoulder.

“That’s nice.” She slides a little closer and tucks herself into my side. “That makes me feel . . . safer.”

I’m not sure if she’s flirting with me or just genuinely needs some kind of human contact to abate the anxiety, but I’m enjoying this, so I go with it. “Safer is good.”

“It is,” she agrees.

I spend the next few minutes explaining the geography as she looks out the window, but when we hit another patch of turbulence, her face pales.

“Oh no!” She covers her mouth with her palm.

“You okay?”

She shakes her head but stops abruptly, paling further. “I don’t feel so well.”

I reach into the seat pocket in front of us and pull out the barf bag. I blow into it to open it up and then hand it to her. “Maybe just breathe into this.”

She takes it from me with shaking hands and leans forward, her hair slipping over her shoulders. I gather it up, twisting the soft, silky strands around my hand to keep it out of the way.

And then she barfs. She tries to be quiet as she retches a couple more times. I stroke my thumb along the back of her neck, and her skin pebbles with goose bumps.

With my free hand I search my pockets for a tissue, grateful when I find a handful in my hoodie. They’re crumpled but unused, so I pass them over. Lainey turns her head away and wipes her mouth, dropping the soiled tissues into the bag. She rolls the top over a few times and secures it closed.

I let her hair unfurl from around my hand and run my palm down her back. “You okay?”

“Other than hugely embarrassed, I think I’m fine,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what to do with this.” She holds up the bag.

“Here, let me deal with it.”

“Oh God, no. My throw-up is in there.”

“It’s better if it ends up in the garbage than anywhere else, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes, much better in a garbage can.” She hands it over.

I unbuckle my seat belt, shimmy down the aisle, and drop the bag in the trash at the front of the plane, then make my way back to my seat. “Feel better?”

“A little. I’m so sorry. I’m the worst person to sit beside on a plane.”

“Not true at all. I actually like being someone’s personal teddy bear. I’d volunteer for a permanent position if it was available.” I slip my hand into my pocket, root around until I find my pack of gum, and offer it to her.

She plucks the package from my hand. “I love you so much right now.”

I laugh. “Mouth tastes that bad, huh?”

“The worst. I had a burrito at the airport.”

“Oooh. Bad call, that.”

“You’re telling me.” She pops a stick of gum into her mouth and closes her eyes, chewing a few times.

“Better?”

“So much.” She passes the pack back, but I fold her hand around it.

“It’s all yours.”

“Thank you.” She puts it in her purse and retrieves a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squeezing a dab into her palm before passing it to me.

Before I know it, we’re on our descent. Her hands are balled into fists in her lap, her eyes screwed shut.

“Hey.” I slip my arm along the back of the seat again. “You’re safe. Human teddy bear right here for safety cuddles.”

She smiles nervously and edges closer, pressing herself right against my side. “Thank you for being so nice, RJ.”