“Thanks. You made it seem easy,” Jim, the shorter of the two, said.
“Yeah.” Tony laughed. He was almost as tall as I was, which was saying something, given my six-foot-three stature. “I wish I had the energy you do. You must have been doing this your whole life.”
A lot of people had that misconception about me. Many people I’d met in Colorado over the years assumed I was a local and had been doing some of these sports since I could crawl. They never guessed I was from the Midwest. The most I’d done was skateboard in the old neighborhood before I picked up and moved out here. “I started when I was nineteen, so only about ten years.”
“Only about ten years,” they repeated, looking at each other and laughing good naturedly.
“Kid, you’re in the prime of your life. I hope you’re enjoying it.” Jim patted me on my shoulder.
Little did he know, living every day like I was checking something off an imaginary bucket list was basically my life motto.
We chatted for a bit longer before we parted ways. I’d see them back on the hill tomorrow for another lesson.
Working out here for the rest of the season was more than I could have hoped for. I’d only been here a week, but waking up within spitting distance of the ski hill and being one of the first ones out there every morning was a whole new kind of thrill.
I’d been snowboarding and teaching lessons for years, but until now, I’d always commuted from Denver, sticking to the ski resorts closer to the city. The traffic was absolutely brutal. I honestly didn’t know why it had taken me years to evenconsider the possibility of staying out in the mountains for the season. It suited me.
“Oliver!”
A few of the guys who worked the chair lifts waved to me as they headed in the direction of town. Most of them stayed in dormitory-style accommodations right between the ski hill and Main Street. There was a time in my life when I would have enjoyed those cramped quarters and not missing out on any of the socializing. But now I found myself grateful for the solitude and space of my studio above Bev’s garage.
“Hey!” I called back, waving at them.
“We’re headed out tonight. There’s more of a nightlife scene fifteen minutes down the highway. Want to join?” one of them asked. I couldn’t for the life of me remember any of their names. But in my defense, they’d been working here since the beginning of the season and I’d just arrived.
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
They kept on walking, boards in hand and playfully shoving each other, clearly pumped at the thought of a more raucous night out. They were only a few years younger than me, but the jump from early twenties to late twenties felt more substantial than I’d expected.
At times, I felt like I’d always be young at heart. But spending time with a group of twenty-one-year-olds? That made me feel ancient. I’d come here for a fresh start—or maybe to keep chasing a carefree lifestyle. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. A year ago, the idea of hitting the bars with guys like that—squeezing into places pretending to be clubs—might have sounded fun. But now? I was exhausted by the idea.
The invitation Giles had thrown me sounded a hell of a lot more my speed these days. He might be older than me, but at least we had more common ground.
The lodge loomed ahead. It was one of the only hotels that was nestled right at the base of the mountain. It reminded me of a Swiss chalet with its overhanging roof and natural wood siding. From what I understood, it had been in Giles’s family for decades. Sounded like a picturesque childhood, if you asked me. Although, it wasn’t like my childhood was tough to hold a candle to.
My phone vibrated in the chest pocket of my jacket. I tugged at the zipper and pulled it out, only to immediately groan when my mom’s contact flashed across the screen.
Speaking of my childhood.
I had no intention of dealing with her today, so I sent the call to voicemail and put my phone back. I struggled with the zipper, and before I could even get it closed, my phone went off again.
“Damn,” I muttered, irritated that my mother couldn’t take a hint. But this time, my brother Nathan’s name lit up the screen instead.
I hit answer. “What’s up, bro?”
“Do you know that when you ignore our mother’s calls, they end up going straight to me?” Impatience coursed through his voice.
I chuckled. “Thought you could field some for me, you know, since I’ve been taking the brunt of her love all these years.”
I almost choked on the wordlove. I knew it was probably the driving force behind most of her actions, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I don’t have time to talk to her,” Nathan grunted. “I’m working on a new project and she’ll keep me on the phone for an hour, wondering if you’re alright.”
I winced. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, well, you were always the favorite.”
I exhaled slowly. There was no point in arguing that. My mother had always chosen me growing up, while our father had chosen Nathan. It was how things had always been. That divide had driven a significant wedge between Nathan and me, but we’d managed to work through our differences in recent years.
