He’s so close that despite the darkness I can see his eyelashes blinking. They’re as long as a camel’s. I once read that camels’ eyelashes protect their eyes from sandstorms, but it’s not quite the right moment to say that out loud.

‘My dad,’ Jaxon says. ‘And why I’m crashing your father–daughter trip.’

‘Oh,’ I say, feeling stupid. Why did I assume he wanted to make a move? I’m not that irresistible.

‘But first, what were you saying before?’

‘Nothing,’ I lie.

I hear him take a big breath. ‘He started drinking after Mom died. My dad, that is.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, knowing the words are too trivial, not right. ‘That must’ve been horrible for you.’

‘He really loved her. You know, wolves mate for life; they only separate when one dies.’

‘Really? That’s amazing. Pity about my father. Guess he’s not a loyal-wolf type like yours.’ I can’t believe I just said that.

‘Give him a chance, he’s a good guy.’

I don’t answer.

‘My dad’s drinking has gotten worse and worse over the last three years,’ Jaxon continues. ‘Some mornings he has no memory of what he did the night before, total blackouts, and if I try to get out of the house when he’s in that mood, he gets really …’

A minute passes as I wait.

‘Gets really what?’ I ask as gently as I can.

‘Sorry, I’m babbling. I’m just pissed off he’s disappeared. It’s so selfish. I mean, I hope he’s okay, but it really sucks that he does this all the time.’

‘Totally,’ I say. ‘It’s good to talk it out—that’s what everyone says, anyway. It’s cool with me if you want to keep babbling.’

‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘My dad gets angry. And when he does, there’s no point talking to him, or trying to get him to stop. I’ve tried and tried.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. I know how annoying those words are; people used them all the time when Mum got cancer and then after she died. But I can’t think of any others.

‘Adam’s tried to speak with him,’ Jaxon says. ‘He even found the local AA group and gave my dad the number. But he never called.’

We lie quietly for a moment.

‘My mom died in a snowmobile accident,’ Jaxon says.

Oh my God, that sounds beyond horrible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a snowmobile let alone knew you could be killed by one.

‘How about yours?’ he asks softly.

‘Cancer. It was really fast.’

‘Sometimes it’s …’ He’s whispering now. ‘It’s hard to believe life has to go on without …’

I wait but he doesn’t continue. ‘I know what you mean,’ I say, my voice gravelly. ‘I don’t think anyone will ever …’