Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Alexander

I exit the coffee shop and hold back a grin as I travel down the sidewalk toward my Jeep. This is the first time I've felt a tiny spark of anything in six dreadful months. Depression has threatened to take hold, and when I slipped into a darker place, I left the city without regret or apology.

Some may even say I ran from my issues, but they can assume whatever they want. They do regardless of my actions. But for once, I put myself first, something I’ve forgotten how to do until now.

A flier with the community scheduled activities for October flaps against one of the black vintage streetlights that line the sidewalk around the town square. I slide my phone from my pocket and snap a photo. Maybe I’ll attend a few, considering my schedule is almost completely clear from now until January.

I swallow down the hint of Ristretto that still lingers on my tongue and my mind wanders back to Autumn.

She was too damn pretty with her long lashes, plump lips, and need to please. As soon as my gaze drifted to her, I stopped. That woman captured my breath, leaving me speechless.

At first sight, I knew I was doomed. That’s why I'll avoid that coffee shop from now on.

When she said my name and her chestnut brown eyes finally met mine, it was like I’d known her for an eternity.

Our fingers brushed together and something sizzled between us.

I saw it in her expression. Her eyes softened as she focused on me like we were old friends or past lovers. Familiarity danced around us. And here I am, intrigued, almost consumed by her.

My phone buzzes and distracts me from my thoughts about Autumn.

I glance down at the screen and see it’s Roxie, my publicist. I’m tempted to reject her call, but I don't because I have some business to handle before I fall off the planet.

“Alexander,” I answer, my eyes scanning the flier again as I commit the upcoming events to memory.

“I stopped by your penthouse to drop off the suit for your television interview tonight and the front desk told me you weren’t there,” Roxie says. “Will you be returning soon?”

Sometimes, silence is the only answer.

“Hello?” she asks, growing frustrated. She's worked with my family for the last two decades and has been tasked with keeping me and my sister, Harper's, images cleaner than most celebrities and pop stars. We had a fantastic twenty-year run; however, my reputation is in ashes after my ex burned it to the ground with twisted truths.

“I'm not taking part in this,” I firmly state, taking back my power.

I glance up at the mountains in the distance. They called, and I answered. Nothing or no one can convince me to return to Manhattan.

“Excuse me? Did you say you weren’t doing the interview?” Roxie clears her throat. And it's not lost on me that I've been difficult to work with, but I’ve always followed instructions and stayed hidden in plain sight.

“I didn’t stutter.” I stroll down the sidewalk, watching leaves rustle across the pavement.

A group of workers hammer together the wooden structure that will be used for the pumpkin patch that’s opening in two weeks. That flier has already come in handy.

“We had a plan. You agreed, and we promptly signed a contract with the network. This was three months ago. Everyone wants you to break your silence and tell your side of the story. Not to mention, your father donated a lot of money for you to have a prime-time segment. They booted the President of the United States for you.”

“Really sorry about that. I’ve thought it over, and I changed my mind. Unfortunately, I won’t be participating.” I’m firm with my decision.

Sitting in a studio with cameras in my face as I spit out well-rehearsed answers to pre-written questions isn't my style. And it never will be. “The world can believe what they want. They can believe her.”

“This isn't about anyone other than you,” she says. “And your reputation.”

“Please tell me what part of ‘I won’t be fucking doing it’ is difficult to understand.”

“Maybe I can set up an online intervi?—.”

“Absolutely not. I won't perform like a puppet, and I will no longer be used as a pawn. This is a publicity stunt, Roxie. Seems like you and my father constructed this spotlight to increase the business’s bottom line during the holiday season. I'm choosing to believe you wouldn't be that stupid or assume I was. My eyes are wide fucking open.”

No one will control me.

Not my ex. Not my father. And not fucking her.

“Unbelievable. You're off-script, and we all know that’s bad for business,” she sneers.

My father had plenty of scandals in his twenties and thirties, and it nearly sent my grandfather into an early grave.

To avoid his karma, my father spent ridiculous amounts of money to ensure Harper and I never experienced what he did. The overprotectiveness worked. A few months ago, the dramatized docuseries of our lives was released and we were put on every popular network's radar. My ex took center stage, stealing the spotlight by showing our private text conversations. Each one was taken out of context.

Overnight, I became the man in millions of women’s fantasies. I have no safe spaces except here in Cozy Creek. I hope.

“Do the fucking interview.”

“My life isn't a movie. Got it, Roxane ?” I use her full name because she hates it.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I almost laugh because it’s been months since I’ve been okay, but no one notices until I fuck up their itinerary. “Are you ? Me skipping that hour-long spotlight tonight saved your goddamn job. Take this as a verbal warning. Treat me this way again, and I will fire you on the spot.”

“Your father hired me.”

“And you don't think I can dismiss you? You're not that na?ve. Now, if you treasure being employed by me, continue sweeping the Internet for the bullshit that’s not true. I’ll reach out to you. Not the other way around. My life has been painted as something it's not, thanks to your instructions.”

She says something else and I end the call. I'm over the conversation and exhausted by the nonstop need to make the world believe I'm perfect. I'm not and never will be.

Roxane and my father are worried about the rumors. Eventually, my truth will be heard, but I won’t be the one telling it. Everyone will figure it out.

The problem with liars is they can’t keep their stories straight. They’re too busy weaving together their tall tales that the wires cross. Celine believes she’s won the war, not realizing she's setting up her own downfall. What she did destroyed me at my core.

My nostrils flare. I'm angry at the world, and I’m bitter.

A few minutes later, my phone rings, and I see my sister's name. I answer.

“If Roxie told you to call me, it’s not happening. Leave. Me. Alone ,” I say, shaking my head.

“Ew. You're rude ,” Harper says. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. I know how she likes to loop you into the bullshit sometimes.”

“Something I should know about?”

I clear my throat. “I'm not doing the interview tonight.”

“Uh.” Her voice goes up an octave. “But I thought yo?—.”

“I want to disappear for a few months.”

She bursts into laughter. “Hilarious that you actually believe you can disappear .”

“Okay, that's enough,” I say, clenching my jaw as I unlock the Jeep with the four-wheel drive I purchased and had delivered to the airport this morning.

Now, she's wheezing.

“I will end this call,” I warn as I take the top off the Jeep. Now that the sun is out, I want to soak it in.

“Wait.” She continues, still laughing at me. “Did you forget who you are?”

“Goodbye.” I contemplate hanging up, but I would never do that to her. My sister is kind, even if she's outspoken.

“No, no, please don't. But I want to remind you, I predicted all of this.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t start with the psychic thing again, okay?”

“Have you met her yet? The woman who will stop you in your tracks and steal your breath away with one glance?”

Goosebumps trail over my arms because I remember the vision Harper had about my life almost two years ago. Everything she’s said has happened in the correct order.

“Harp.” I sigh.

“You saw her, didn't you?” She laughs. “I'm excited for you.”

“Stop.” I don’t want to entertain it anymore.

“Did you go to Cozy Creek?” She grows silent. “To see if Hollow Manor feels like home?”

“Sometimes you're annoying,” I mutter. It was a part of her prophecy, too. But it was the only place that felt right when I knew I needed to leave. My mother loved visiting Cozy Creek. And I did too, when I was younger.

Before I was born, my father built a ski resort on top of the mountain as a gift to my mom, along with allowing her to design her dream home. After my mother passed away, I inherited the manor, but I've refused to visit after she was gone. It was always too hard, until now. Having my life in shambles makes being back here not seem as hard.

I finally feel ready to face this place and the memories attached to it.

This town embodies everything my mother loved in the fall and winter. I want to experience that magic again.

“Please promise me you won't be a recluse in that big house.”

“I can’t do that,” I tell her.

“Make some friends or something. Enjoy the festivities.”

The thought makes me chuckle. “Because I'm incredibly approachable.”

“You can be when you want to be. Mom would want you to at least do the pumpkin patch a few times. Only weirdos go alone.”

She’s right. My mother wouldn’t want me to be holed up in Hollow Manor by myself, not when there are fall festivities in town.

“Are you attending Dad's wedding?” She abruptly changes the subject.

“Not sure.”

My father has been single since my mother passed away when I was fifteen. Now, he's marrying my ex-best friend's mother. It would be rude for me to ask which of us they'd like in attendance, so I've planned to skip. It won’t be a problem if I’m not there.

“You can't be serious.”

“I'm not committing,” I admit, glancing at the cloudy sky and seeing sun rays burst through the fluffy clouds. “You know Celine will be there, and I'm not ready to see her with Nicolas yet.”

“But Dad asked you to be his best man.”

“Yeah, there is that.” I think about how strained our relationship has been this year.

“What's your plan then? Driving to your dark castle and hiding away for the winter?”

“You tell me since you've already predicted it all,” I snap back.

“We both know your future wife will be with you.”

“Okay, well, since you have the answers, did you want to discuss anything else?”

“No. I was checking on you because I got this strange feeling and it made me pause,” she says. “Like, ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

The moment I met Autumn.

I ignore that fact, though.

“I'm fine. I need space. A lot has happened in a short amount of time. I can't pretend everything is perfect anymore. I want to find solace in Cozy Creek, just like Mom did.”

“It’s impossible to run from your problems. They always follow you.”

“I know, but at least I can deal with them how I want without the pressures from the outside world. Mom always said fresh air and mountains can fix anything. I came to see if she was right.”

After I finish putting the top down, I climb behind the steering wheel and put on my seat belt. “I'll check in with you.”

“Okay. Is the town hosting those events like they used to?”

“Yep. I took a picture of the flier. I’ll text it to you so you can be jealous.” I grin, thinking about the time my mother insisted we enjoy the celebrations every weekend as a family. I say family, but it was only the three of us—her, Harper, and me. My dad was too busy working, but he stopped in when he could. Those months we spent together are ones I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

“Maybe I'll crash your pity party for one,” my sister says.

“Please don't.” I crank the engine. “Is that all?”

“I guess so.”

“Great. I love you, Sis. Stay out of trouble,” I tell her.

“Yeah, you too,” she says, and the call ends.

I lock my phone and pull onto Main Street. I take the block around the town square. At the stop sign, I switch the radio to the local station that plays only oldies. The nostalgia of being here nearly takes me under, and the tension in my neck slightly releases.

Tourists walk the streets and I can smell the sweet scent of homemade crêpes on the grill of one of the food trucks sitting outside of the park.

Ten minutes later, I pull onto the twisty road to the ski resort.

At the halfway mark, I turn off onto a private drive that's cut out between the forest. I stop at the reader and slide my card against it. The iron gate clicks and automatically slides open. Once I'm through it, I wait for it to lock closed before leaving. The last thing I need are tourists from the resort and Cozy Creek rolling up on me.

My heart pounds hard in my chest as I take the paved single-track road that slowly winds its way through the woods as I climb the mountain. It's been a long time since I've been here and I think back to old memories. When the large gothic house comes into view, I smile. The driveway wraps in front of the house and leads to the garage in the back. I click the sensor that's already programmed in my Jeep and drive in.

I step through the backyard, and it's exactly how I remember it, with Mom's butterfly garden and the greenhouse full of flowers she grew. The property has been maintained weekly, even though no one has visited for twenty years. When I was given the keys, I had no desire to come back to Cozy Creek. I wasn't ready to be here, but after the shit I've been through this year, I am.

It’s the only place I can escape.

The back door is unlocked, and I step inside. The cathedral ceilings and the large windows allow the late evening sun to leak in. When I turn, my eyes scan over the long counter lined with bar stools. I think about Mom and the homemade pumpkin cinnamon rolls she made us every Saturday morning. The countless breakfasts we ate and the coffee she'd let us drink.

I smile as I'm transported back and close my eyes, almost imagining the laughter in the kitchen. My father couldn't be with us from August to December, so it was just Harper and me with her. My sister and I were pissed that we wouldn't be returning to boarding school for the semester.

Instead, my mother had hired a private teacher to go through our lessons. It felt like a prison, but we didn't know the reality of the situation yet. She wanted to make memories in one of her favorite places in the world before she started chemo.

When I open my eyes, my jaw is clenched tight and I try to relax.

I check the fridge and the pantry. Both are stocked full of food, per my instruction. I'm impressed by how fast my request was met.

I walk through the living room, glancing at the gigantic fireplace, unlock the front door, and step onto the porch that wraps in an L-shape, giving a view of the Rockies in the distance. The black rocking chairs are still in the same place they were. It's almost as if no time has passed at all.

It's a perfect day and the mountains are visible. I inhale the fresh mountain air, unpacking all the shit I've been harboring for far too long. Once I'm back inside, I take the wide stairs that lead to the top floor, hoping that when I leave here in January, I'll be a different man.

My hand glides up the smooth, hand-carved railing, which is adorned with whimsical embellishments. It's the small details in this house, the tiny things most people don't pay attention to. Mom had her own style, and every square foot is her. Each room in the house is quirky in its own way. I could never change it because this property is the only place where my mother’s presence and personality haven't been erased.

It doesn’t feel like home yet, but it will. My sister confidently predicted it.