“Can’t believe that horse is actually movin’,” he mused, more to coax Jack into talking than state the obvious.
Jack chuckled. “Nic’s got a way with the little prince. Should I head up to Pinecone Ridge?”
“I’d go where Copper leads,” Red said. “As long as you’re mapping out a route for the rides.”
“I am,” Jack said, keeping his eyes on the snowy trail ahead.
A few long beats of silence passed, with nothing but the winter wind and the soft hoofbeats, the hiss of the runners gliding over snow.
Red wasn’t good at talking nonsense. MJ was the one who filled silence like a radio station. Cindy, too, when she wasn’t bogged down in books and bills. But Red didn’t like dancing around things, especially not with a man like Jack.
But some things had to be said between them, and now was as good a time as any.
“How’s it feel to be back?” he asked, hoping that was enough to get a conversation going.
“Different,” Jack replied without hesitation. “Like an outsider looking in.”
“You are.”
“I wasn’t, once.” He threw Red a look. “But being here is like I’m standing at a storefront window and wanting everything that’s inside, but I can’t afford a thing.”
The comment really threw Red. He wasn’t expecting the man to sound either nostalgic or regretful.
Red considered that, staring at the passing pine trees. “Well, this place has a way of gettin’ under your skin.”
“Yeah.” Jack tugged on the reins as Copper veered too close to a snowbank. “I missed it. More than I realized.”
Red nodded, keen on the candor. There was a time when he and Jack could talk about anything. George, too, when MJ’s husband was still alive. The three of them were the men of Snowberry. Jack and George were the sons that Red never had.
George died—which was sad. But Jack left—which was dumb.
“Then why’d you leave, Jack?” he asked, the question rising up and coming right out. Oh, well. He was entitled to honesty and bluntness at his ripe old age.
Jack didn’t answer right away. The jingle of the sleigh bells filled the space.
“I got a second chance at my dream,” Jack said after a moment. “After my injury, I thought I was done with the worldof competitive skiing—which, as you know, isn’t like everyday, ordinary skiing.”
“I know what it is,” Red said.
“But the ESPN job? It gave me a purpose again. Made me feel like I mattered.”
“You always mattered,” Red muttered. “You mattered to Cindy, and to Nicole. Heck, you mattered to me. You mattered for the years you juggled this life and that one.”
“I couldn’t juggle anymore,” he admitted gruffly. “The travel was constant. Cindy wanted me to choose and…”
And he chose ESPN and skiing and the rush of his old life. Red tried to understand—he always did—but he still had a rough time with the choice Jack had made. And Cindy’s rather rushed decision to file for divorce.
“We were all crushed when you left,” Red said. “I get it, I guess. But I didn’t back then.”
Jack turned to look at him. “I know that now, Red. I don’t blame you, really. It felt like I had to choose between being somebody or staying behind and fading away.” He stared straight ahead at Copper’s swooshing tail as they glided forward. “I felt like I was settling for a life that was quiet and mundane, and I got this opportunity, you know? I’m not saying it was the right choice, but it was the one I made.”
Red grunted. “Mundane can be good.”
“I know that now,” Jack whispered.
Red didn’t speak while he watched a hawk circle lazily overhead.
“Cindy was heartbroken, you know,” he said.
