by Erika Kelly
And they would. She had more power over them than she realized.
So, then, yeah, when he got back from Freefest, she’d be gone.
Which meant he’d go on with his life like this summer had never happened, except he’d get to see Ruby. Hang out with her from time to time.
Not Delilah, though. He’d never see her again.
No regrets. It’d been good. Fun. Definitely worth it.
A couple guys training in the freestyle pool climbed down off the scaffolding and jogged toward him. “Dude, did you hear?”
The other guy said, “Is there anything we can do? This isn’t right.”
What the hell now? “Hear what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jesus, if it was more shit from Damien, he didn’t care. He’d prove everything on the course.
Other people joined them. “He’s gone too far.”
“Time to lawyer up.”
A lawyer? “Hang on. What’s going on?”
Someone pulled out his phone and swiped the screen a few times before handing it over.
“Damien posted it about an hour ago.”
With bright sunlight obscuring the screen, Will headed for the overhang. Seemed to be an old photo, when his dad had a full head of dark hair. He stood beside some man Will didn’t recognize.
The headline made Will’s blood turn cold.
Looks like the Bowies might need a dump truck to get rid of all their ill-gotten medals. Turns out their father was one of the first investors in Sprocket, the biggest sponsor of the U. S. Freestyle Ski League’s competitions.
“It’s bullshit.” He handed the phone back. “My dad didn’t buy my wins.” Fucking Damien. He was just making a fool of himself. Will carried on. He just wanted to get home.
“Will.”
Exasperated with all the drama, Will snapped. “What?”
“You’ve been banned, man. The League banned you.”
* * *
A hawk’s screech snapped him back to the moment and, when he looked up to check his surroundings, he found himself at the family cemetery. His grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—all the way back to eighteen ninety-seven, when the Bowies had first arrived in Calamity—had been laid to rest in this shaded patch of meadow.
How the hell had he wound up here? Instead of running home after training, he’d walked to give his knee a rest. But his head had been filled with so much white noise since finding out he’d been banned that he’d wandered way off course.
Under a grove of cottonwood trees, a breeze stirred the branches. He knelt at his father’s grave. Dammit, Dad. Why’d you have to die? Will needed him now more than ever. He brushed the pine needles and dirt off the stone. “I just want to make you proud. I don’t know why this is happening”—banned, Jesus—“And I don’t know how to fix it.” How had his dad gotten dragged into this mess anyhow? “But I will. There’s not a chance Damien’s going to ruin your reputation.” His dad had sacrificed everything for him, had turned him into the man he’d become. He would clear his family’s name.
The hawk circled overhead, and the bushes nearby rustled with wildlife.
He couldn’t help thinking about what Lachlan had said. That what drove him was not his dad, but his mom. That he kept competing to prove he was a good man.
He shuffled through a lifetime of memories.
His birthday party—sixth? Seventh? Candles, cake, a bunch of kids. His mom had gone all-out—hired some company to put a racetrack in the backyard. Foot-pedaled cars. The kids had crashed—big pile-up. He’d hurt his neck pretty bad. He’d wanted to cry, but his mom had given him this look—hard, mean, like, don’t you dare ruin this party. Made him fight hard to swallow his tears, his hurt, his pain.
When he was eleven, his back pressed to the wall as he’d eavesdropped on his parents the night before his mom had left the family.
His first competition—he must’ve been fifteen— looking at the scoreboard to discover he’d come in twelfth. Cursing himself for screwing up so badly.
He sank into that one, trying to remember his reaction. His first impulse had always been to scan the crowd for his dad. Why? Because he wanted that look of pride and love he got no matter where he placed.
So, no, his dad never made him feel like he had to do better, be better.
When he was seventeen, he’d placed second in a competition. His dad had hugged him so hard, his feet had left the snow. Did you text Mom? That had been the first question he’d asked.
So, yeah. Maybe Lachlan was right. Maybe winning his mom’s respect had driven him all these years.
Respect? The word landed like a chair with one leg too short. Come on.
Love. A wave of heat swept over him, coaxing out beads of perspiration. He wanted his mom to love him.
Fuck. She never would, would she?
He thought about the way she’d looked at Ruby with such disdain. His sister hadn’t done what she’d wanted, so his mom had washed her hands of her.
All this time he’d thought his mom hated him, but…it was never about me. He picked up a dry twig and snapped it in half, then tossed the pieces into the tall grass.
He wished he’d talked to his dad about this stuff. They just never had. “When mom left…I was scared shitless.”
Alone in his room, he’d stare up at the ceiling, awash in terror. But it hadn’t been a fear he could name, which made it so much worse. If he’d been staring into a grizzly bear’s beady eyes, it would’ve been manageable. He could’ve taken action to control it.
But not knowing had created this spinning, grinding, pulsating fear that ploughed through him, shredding his tissue, organs, and bones, leaving him pulverized.
He snagged another twig and tossed it. “But you threw me a lifeline. You quit your job and spent time with me, got me focused on skiing. And, even though I knew you did it because you felt bad for me, I loved you for it. You were my best friend, Dad, and I never got to thank you.” A rush of wind through the leaves made his skin tingle. “So, I’ll thank you now by getting to the bottom of that photograph.”
Given the lack of gray in his hair, it had to have been taken twenty years ago.
“And by writing a letter to the League, letting them know the kind of man you were.” Energy rolled in, and he sat up straighter. “I’ll tell them you wouldn’t have wanted us to win in any way other than through hard work, dedication, and focus.”
He’d tell them stories about the way his dad had made them work for everything. Their first snowboard, their first ATV, their first trucks. How he’d given them nothing freely other than his time, attention, and love.
“Damien’s not going to get away with this.” Will would talk to his lawyer, get him to do a deep dive into Mack Bowie’s financials. He’d clear his dad’s name.
His phone vibrated. Relief hit him when he saw Gray’s name on the screen. “Hey.”
“Ya fuckin’ hooligan.”
“Right?” He stood up.
“I called James.”
Even better than their attorney, the trustee of his dad’s estate would know the story behind the picture. “What’d he say?”
“He says Dad was an original investor of Sprocket in nineteen ninety-three. He sold his shares in ‘ninety-five.”
Knew it. “Good. Now we have to get the facts out there. Take Damien down.”
“Already on it.”
Emotion swept through him hard and fierce. He fucking loved his brothers. “Thanks, man.” Gray liked to come off all nonchalant, like nothing mattered to him, but Will knew that was a cover. Shit sank into Gray way deeper than it did with the rest of them. Always had. “Appreciate it.”
“Think I’m gonna meet you in Tignes.”
This year, Freefest would be held on the Grand Motte glacier. For halfpipe, they needed a great terrain park. “Yeah? Cool.”
“Send me photos of the course.”
“Will do.”
“And don’t let this get inside your head,” Gray said. “
We’re gonna clear your name.”
“Damn right we will.”
“I just don’t want it fucking with your focus.”
“Oh, shit.” Will paced to the trail. “You think that’s why Damien’s doing this? To get me off my game?”
“That’s exactly why he’s doing it. Rattle you so you screw up on the course.”
Determination sliced him wide open. “He has no idea who he’s messing with.”
In his deep, gravelly voice, Gray chuckled. “No, he doesn’t. I’ve never seen anyone lock down under pressure the way you do. You’re a fuckin’ champion, and he’s about to get his ass handed to him.”
* * *
Sun bearing down on his head, Will made his way back home. With his plan in place—talking to the lawyer and the estate’s trustee and writing the letter—the chaos in his mind settled.
For his first eight years of competing, he’d hardly won a single event. Not winning did something to a man. Put a fire in him to finally ring that elusive bell at the top rung. And once he’d gotten there? He’d worked even harder to hold onto his title.
So, no one—especially not some guy who wanted to win based on his own set of criteria—would mess with the reputation he’d worked his ass off to build. And the idea that Damien would attack a man who’d passed away, who couldn’t defend himself—it got Will’s blood boiling.
It struck him that, since finding out he’d been banned, not once had he panicked about the idea of never skiing competitively again.
Why didn’t it bother him?
Easy. Because of Delilah. And Ruby. For the first time in seventeen years he’d focused on something other than training and competing, and he’d liked it. Now that he’d experienced another side of life—of himself—he couldn’t go back to the old way.
It wasn’t like he wanted to get drunk or shove fists full of cake into his mouth. He didn’t want to take up sky diving or knitting.
He wanted to live an ordinary life.
Wrong. He broke into a smile at the truth. His life with Delilah was extraordinary, and he’d be a damned fool not to beg her to stay.
She made him happy. She made him feel alive. He wanted to watch her cook and eat and laugh and throw her head back in the throes of an orgasm.
Yeah, that. As the image hit of her hair spread out on his dark blue pillowcase, eyes closed in ecstasy, lips parted in abandon, desire hummed in his body.
Maybe he’d start a new career as Delilah’s boyfriend, just so he could spend every free minute with her.
He’d been asking the wrong question. All summer, he’d asked what she’d do if her siblings gave her the restaurant, but he’d never asked her to stay.
He’d assumed her life would be better, happier, more fulfilled in New York with her family, but maybe it wouldn’t be.
Hadn’t she come here to find out who she was away from them?
Find it with me.
Nothing would make him happier than watching her become the woman she was meant to be.
I love her.
Oh, fuck. He stumbled, catching himself before he landed in a sprawl on the dirt path.
I love her. It was so true, so pure, that it didn’t scare him. Not a bit. I love her. I want her.
I’m going to ask her to stay.
And, after Freefest, I might just retire.
Make loving Delilah my full-time job.
* * *
When he reached the house, a glint of sunlight on metal caught his attention. He cut around to the driveway but didn’t recognize the tan Buick with its engine still ticking,
No one he knew drove a sedan like that.
Was this about Ruby? He leapt up the porch stairs and let himself into the house. The familiar scent of Delilah’s cooking hit him at the same moment as the unfamiliar male voice.
“You’re too talented to be stuck in some cow town working a chuck wagon for tourists.”
Delilah burst out laughing, and he just loved her so fucking much. The fact that she didn’t get hurt or insulted by that comment? She had the best spirit of anyone he’d ever met.
“It’s not like that, I promise.”
“Look, if maintaining the legacy means losing our baby sister, then I’m doing something wrong.” Her brother let out a harsh exhalation. “I want to do right by Mom and Dad. You have to know, that’s my sole focus. I was thirty-two when they died, and to find out they’d made me the executor of the estate? It was huge. And I can’t mess up.”
“I understand that,” Delilah said. “Well, maybe I never really got it, you know? You’re my big brother, and you’ve always just taken care of things.”
“But even worse than losing customers is losing our sister.”
“You’re never going to lose me, Joe. I love my family. Look, I’ve had a lot of time to think about things.”
Planting his ass on the arm of the couch, Will listened to her tone as much as her words.
“And I’m so angry that you guys are making decisions about my life behind my back. Giving me that envelope on my birthday? That wasn’t cool. You could’ve just shown me Harry’s column and talked to me about it.”
“You’re right. I was angry. I work so hard to keep our business strong, and then to see the top food critic telling his followers to eat somewhere else? I was pissed.”
“I get that. But I figured something out this summer. In spite of the way you guys went about it, you’re right. I’m not going to be happy churning out the same dishes night after night.”
What does that mean? Hope kicked his pulse into overdrive.
“And I’m really happy here. I like the freedom I have here.”
Holy shit. Is she going to stay? He sprang off the couch.
“I’ve fallen in love with this place, with…everything.”
Say it. Tell your brother.
Make it real.
“I love Will.”
Yes. Fuck yes.
“I do. And I love his sister.”
She’s going to stay. Even without knowing the outcome of the competition, Delilah was making the choice to be with him. Jesus. He walked in a circle, hands clenched into fists, so damn elated he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“What’re you saying, Delilah?”
“I’m saying that I’m going to stay here.”
I fucking love you, Delilah, and I’m going to spend my life making sure you never regret your decision.
“And there’s nothing we can do to change your mind?”
Something about her brother’s tone sent a spray of anxiety through him. He sounded pleased with himself.
“Nothing you can do.” She laughed. “Now, he could tell me he doesn’t want me. That would change my mind.”
Never. He headed toward the kitchen. He’d tell her right now. In front of her brother. Will had never been more sure about anything.
“What if we found a way to give you everything you’ve ever wanted? To let you run Da Nonna’s with your own creative flair. Would that would change your mind?”
Slam. It was like a car crash, the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass. Will froze, listening.
“What’re you talking about? We both know that could never work.”
“The same review that sent you to Calamity caught the interest of Dino Romano, the top restaurateur in the city. He called me up a few weeks ago, said Harry’s review had sparked an idea. He wants to launch a new franchise off the back of Da Nonna’s. It’d be a contemporary reimagining of Nonna Abelli’s recipes.”
“What?”
“Yep. He wants the classic old school Italian standards ‘invigorated’ by your creativity.”
“When you say me…”
“I mean you. He wants you, specifically, as executive chef.”
“Holy shit. I know Dino Romano. Anyone in the food business knows him. I’m twenty-six years old, and he wants me? I don’t even know how to process this.”
“It couldn’t be more perfect. Dino Romano’s given us
a way to have it all. We can expand the business and bring you home. You belong with us, and now we’ve finally got a way to make it all work.”
Will didn’t know why he needed to hear her answer. He already knew she’d take it. She had to. They’d come up with the perfect situation for her.
“You okay?” her brother asked.
“I don’t know what I am.” Her voice sounded shaky. A chair scraped back. “Is this a done deal? I have carte blanche to run my own restaurant?”
“No. We’ve had several meetings, but there’s no point in moving forward until you join the discussion. Which is why I came out here. I know you’ve got one more competition at the end of the week, but we’re meeting with Dino on Tuesday, and he’s only going to come if you’re there. I’ve taken the ball this far, but you’re the one who’s got to score the touchdown.”
“He said that? That he’s not moving forward without me?”
Pure awe, that’s what he heard. He tried to be happy for her—Delilah deserved the best of everything—but he couldn’t help thinking it was a mistake. Even taking his own heart out of the equation, weren’t they just putting her right back in the box? This one had more room, but hadn’t she grown out of boxes altogether? Everything she’d talked about this summer had been about freedom, finding herself outside of her family. This job would rein her back in.
“That’s right. I’ve talked to him about the business end of things.” Another chair scraped back. “And now he needs to hear your plans for the menu.”
“I don’t have any plans.”
“That’s the thing, Delilah. He wants you to do exactly what you’ve been doing. Add andouille to the gravy. Use lemon curd in the tiramisu. He wants your spin on our standard dishes.”
“Wow, I just…I’m blown away by this.”
“In a good way?” For the first time, her brother’s tone held uncertainty.
“In the best way.” The rustle of clothing made him think she’d just thrown herself into her brother’s arms.
