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Prologue
Brad
It was the winter of 1987. Ten years before I built my billionaire empire that my sons would run someday, I went home to Winter Ridge.
Chapter 1
Brad
The bitter wind whips across my face as I exit the airport through the sliding glass doors. My fingers grip the edges of my wool overcoat, trying to block out the frigid temperatures. I mentally curse myself for not taking the time to get my parka out of my suitcase, but the flight delay has put me behind schedule, and I can’t stand it when I’m running late.
Not that schedules really matter all that much here in Winter Ridge, Colorado. Unless something has changed in the four years since leaving, this town moves at a snail’s pace. Nothing ever changes. Nothing ever happens.
I want to have fond memories of my hometown, but a sea of regret has swallowed any wonderful memories. And all of that regret can be wrapped up in one name. Winny Cramer. Thankfully, I won’t be seeing her on this trip. I’m here to help my mom move and nothing more. Get in and get out. Avoiding Winny’s entire family and our old mutual friends will be my main priority.
My rental car is waiting where the agency told me it would be. Unfortunately, my rotten luck strikes again as the SUV’s door is frozen shut from the latest snowstorm, and I have to use my hip to knock it loose. After battling my way in, I start the engine and wait for the heater to start working. My gloveless fingers are almost numb from the short walk from the airport exit to my rental car.
Once the inside of the SUV is adequately warm, the slow drive towards my mom’s house begins. It’s a couple of hours away, and the icy road conditions will not make the trip easy. I already called my mom before leaving Boston, so hopefully, she won’t worry that I’m arriving six hours later than expected.
The winding roads leading to the little town where I grew up are difficult to navigate in the winter. The bright beams of sunlight filtering in through the car’s front window cause me to squint against the blinding reflection of the bright snow on the road. With the day dwindling, I have precious little time before the roads begin to refreeze, making travel impossible.
My mom’s decision to move in December, of all months, makes me question her sanity. To be fair, she’d planned to move next summer, but my grandmother’s recent health scares have moved up that timeline. Despite my pleas to wait, my mom is adamant that she is moving in the next few weeks, and nothing I can say will change her mind. Besides going against my wishes, she insisted I come to help her with the move. She’s been giving me almost daily doses of guilt. Even now, I hear her voice in my head, and I cringe at each cutting accusation.
“Why won’t you come see me and your brother?”
“It’s been four years since you left.”
“Bradley, I need your help. It’s been long enough. Please, come home to help me.”
My mom doesn’t understand. And how could she? I left after my senior year of college four years ago and never returned – Not for birthdays, not for holidays, not for anything. I gave no explanation as to why I’d left so suddenly or why I stopped talking to my brother.
My heart was broken. I needed time and distance to heal.
The sign shows that the road is narrowing up ahead, and I force myself to focus on my driving. The cloudless sky is darkening, and I know it won’t be long before I reach town. My fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as I navigate the twisty turns of the mountain road. The elevation rises, and so does my uneasiness overseeing my brother again.
It’s been too long, yet not long enough.
I want to turn around and go back to Boston. Even as I see the signs pointing to the little town where I grew up, the temptation to flee grips me, and the temptation to run away is a powerful pull that’s difficult to ignore.
Five miles to Winter Ridge, CO.
Three miles to Winter Ridge, CO.
And finally, Welcome Winter Ridge, CO.
I’m thankful my rented SUV has AWD as I come upon the icy driveway leading to my mom’s quaint little cabin home. My car barely comes to a stop when she comes rushing out of the house, the screen door banging behind her.
Before I can fully open my car door, I can hear her yelling, “Bradley, Bradley! You’re finally here.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi? That’s all you have to say?”
She wraps me in a tight hug before I can even get out of the car entirely. She squeezes the breath out of me and doesn’t let go.
“Okay, Mom, let me breathe,” I choke out in a chuckle.
She loosens her hold and grabs my hand. “Let’s get you out of the cold. I have a warm fire in the fireplace, and I have some chili on the stove. I’ve been waiting for you all day. You’re late.”
