9. Corey

Wind batters my face, bringing with it the scents of summer in Colorado: pine, sun-soaked earth, and the woods. I never stopped to discern the complexity of the forest while living here, but since moving away, I’ve paid attention and now notice the faint traces of mold and wild grasses as I race my longest friend, Diego, along the trail.

I haven’t been mountain biking in three years, not since the last time I was home here in Vail, and if my football coaches knew, I’d be in deep shit. Remaining healthy and injury-free is why we spend copious amounts of time and energy with trainers, sleep experts, and nutritionists. But out here, where no soul relies on my speed or footwork, I feel almost weightless. Almost.

It’s been seven days since my one-night stand with Fallon, and she seems intent on keeping up the pretenses of our agreement because I haven’t heard a damn word from her.

Behind me, Diego whoops, and I know he hit the jump that had me laughing moments ago. My smile grows as I maneuver down a hill covered in roots and rocks that my tires bound over, jarring my teeth.

It’s fucking amazing.

I pedal faster, once again, trying to outrun thoughts of a girl I barely know.

The trail smooths, and we coast the rest of the way downhill. Once there, I pause, taking in the view of Eagle River.

Diego stops beside me, a residual laugh still rumbling from him. “That was sick. Tell me you don’t miss this.”

I shake my head. I can’t. I do. I have. More than I realized.

“One more year,” he says as though it’s been decided that I’ll be moving back here after graduation.

I don’t mention the pending NFL draft, where I’ve stacked the majority of my hopes and dreams for the past ten years, or that this place stopped feeling like home even before I moved. For Diego, mountain biking and hiking are the only sports that matter. He hates organized games nearly as much as he does the idea of ever leaving Colorado.

“What in the hell’s that?” I ask, glancing down at the faint sound that caught my attention.

Diego raises his hand to make a visor and glances down the steep hill in front of us that leads to the riverbank. “I think it’s a dog.” He whistles, trying to call it toward us.

The scruffy, beige dog whimpers as it limps, clearly injured.

“Shit,” Diego says.

I’m already scanning over the ridge, searching for a route to get down there.

“We don’t have to save him. His owners are responsible for taking care of him, not us,” Diego adds.

I grip a branch and lower myself a couple of feet to where I can gain footing.

“What are we going to do with him?” Diego asks, but I’m already another foot lower.

“We can’t leave him. Something’s going to eat him out here.”

Diego moves above me. “Why do I let you talk me into shit?”

I chuckle. “You mean like that time I hitchhiked with your ass to Kansas after you met that girl online to ensure you didn’t walk into a death trap? Or are you referring to the incident where you tried to make out with that chick right in front of her boyfriend, and he knocked you down like a bobblehead, and I walked away with a black eye and fat lip?”

Diego snorts. “He was still worse off.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a fight, but it was the first time I’d felt like an asshole for defending myself because, truth be told, Diego deserved to have his nose broken that night.

“Did I mention this is a shitty idea?” Diego asks as he slides just enough to send a stream of rocks and dirt past me.

“Kansas,” I throw back before glancing at the dog still twenty feet below us.

We spent our childhood in these woods and manage to get down to the scruffy dog with matted fur without incident. It’s small, barely reaching my shin, and by the way it’s panting, I’m guessing it’s been stuck down here for at least a full day, if not longer.

I squat, reaching a hand in front of me. The dog takes a step, hobbling as it works to protect its front right paw.

“You won’t be playing football this year if he bites a finger off,” Diego warns, keeping as much distance as he can manage on the narrow landing. He has one hell of a scar on his thigh accounting for his fear of dogs, one he rarely discusses but never forgets.

“Let’s hope not,” I say, inching forward. I scoop up the small dog, noting it’s a girl, before curling her against my chest and trying to avoid touching her injured paw.

“How are we going to get her back?” Diego asks. “We’re on our bikes.”

“She probably won’t like it, but I’ll put her in my backpack.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost a few screws before shaking his head.

The dog trembles but doesn’t squirm for me to set her down.

I follow Diego’s path as he ascends the ledge we climbed down, rocks slipping under our tennis shoes. The ground is dry and unforgiving as we attempt to find footing, but it’s easier than going down.

“Let me guess, you want my water, too?” Diego asks as we approach our bikes, reaching for it before I even confirm she needs a drink.

“It’ll buy you some good karma,” I tell him as he unscrews the lid and tips it toward the dog, who quickly laps the water up.

She’s tired and frail, and barely objects when I lower her into the makeshift nest I tried to make with my sweatshirt at the bottom of my pack. We take the easiest, smoothest paths to return to Diego’s truck.

“What are we going to do with it, now?” Diego asks as I lift my bike into the back. My phone vibrates in my pocket with a returned text that I briefly read before shaking my head at Diego.

“Now, we make a pit stop.”

We drive the twenty miles back into town while Diego tells me about everyone we grew up with. I almost cut him off and admit I don’t care who’s engaged or what scandal occurred but swallow the objection. More than once, I’ve been accused of turning my back on my old friends and this place.

When we reach the vet clinic my older sister, Anna, has been working at for the past five years, Diego’s out of his seat without instruction.

Fucker.

Diego follows me inside, where the scents of antiseptic and orange cleaner are prominent.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” the woman at the front desk asks, watching as I take the small dog out of my bag.

An exam door opens, and a man with a cat carrier leaves, followed by Anna. She notices me a second later, a grin breaking out across her face. “Hey, Core,” she calls, crossing the clinic to reach us. “Hey, Diego.”

Anna is the sole reason I made the trip here after moving away three years ago. She wrapped her plea in guilt and convinced me to book a ticket back for a week before practices begin.

“Dr. Fischer,” Diego grins. “Looking good.”

“You’re lucky my hands are full,” I tell him as Anna smiles broadly, stopping before us.

“Is this our little patient? Oh, how precious,” Anna coos. Her love for animals can only be rivaled by her obsession with shoes.

“Me or the dog?” Diego asks.

Anna is four years our senior, but that never stopped Diego from flirting with her. Even during the most challenging of times, when Anna was going through treatments to fight leukemia, Diego dropped innuendos. Her laughter was the only thing that kept me from laying him out during those years.

“Don’t make me shove you down that ravine where we found the dog,” I warn, but as I turn to my sister, I note her dark eyes shine with amusement just as they had then. Diego has always treated her like she’s normal.

Anna’s dark hair, which matches mine, is pulled back, and her scrubs make her look smaller than usual. I realize it’s because she’s wearing flats rather than a towering pair of heels she’s known for. “I love her already. Let’s check her out and see if we can find out where her family is.” She takes the dog from me, snuggling her. “Yes. We’re going to take care of you.”

“I’d like to stick around and watch you work your magic, Doc, but I have to get going.” Diego turns to me. “You want me to give you a ride home?”

“I’ll barter a ride home. I’ll see you later.” I offer him my hand.

“Tonight,” he reminds me. “Blake’s birthday party.”

“Right.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not getting out of this, so stop thinking of excuses.” He turns, leaving with an exaggerated wave.

Anna gives me a knowing smile, then carries the small dog into an exam room with me trailing behind.

“Have I mentioned how you’re not allowed to stay gone for this long again?” Anna asks, twisting to look at me. “I swear, every time I look at you, it’s like seeing a different person. You look so much older.”

“Planes go both ways.”

Anna’s brow lowers with a wince, making me almost regret the remark. “I know. I keep meaning to come out there. Really, I do.”

“You should. It’s about to hit summer. You’d never get cold.”

She smirks. Anna’s notoriously cold, always wearing a sweater or coat, even in August.

“You and Vic would like it. You might even consider moving there and opening your own clinic.”

Her gaze bounces to mine. “You want to stay in North Carolina and play for the Panthers?”

Despite not being back here in three years, Anna and I keep in touch, even if it’s just a phone call or text every couple of weeks. We are products of our parents’ loveless marriage, raised in a life that required us to rely on each other, sometimes exclusively. I respect and care for my sister more than anyone on this planet, and if she didn’t live in the same city as our parents, there wouldn’t be a three-year gap between my visits. She knows I planned to play for a team that would bring me to the West Coast. But that was three years ago when my ego had me believing I had a say in the matter. Now, I know my future lies in the hands of strangers, and I’m willing to play for any damn team in the league.

I shrug dismissively. “Maybe.”

Anna swallows and directs her attention to the small dog I brought in. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

I run a hand across my brow, watching Anna begin her examination. “I was planning on swinging by your place to see your small zoo of rescued animals and that infamous couch you spent the past year shopping for.”

“There were too many options.”

I smirk. “You got engaged to Vic in less time.”

“That’s because I knew with him right away. He had the utz.”

I close my eyes, regretting that I brought it up as soon as Anna brings out the term our grandma declared she felt upon meeting our grandpa; a term passed down in her family for multiple generations.

“You’ll know what I’m talking about one day,” Anna says, but rather than press about relationships, she’s distracted by the dog, running a series of tests that decree she not only has a broken front leg but heartworm and no registered owner.

“Poor baby,” Anna says, stroking its dirt-matted fur.

“The pound is full,” the vet tech who assisted Anna says. “Maybe it would be kinder to?—”

“I’ll take her home,” I interrupt.

Anna glances at me, approval and admiration in her gaze. “Mom would kill you if you show up with a dog at her house, no less this dog, but if you’re okay with it, I’d like to adopt her.” She glances down at her and smiles.

“Vic will kill me,” I tell her.

Anna laughs. She has nearly as many pets as she does shoes. “Not when he sees this adorable little face and sweet personality. Besides, she’ll need to stay here for a few days to isolate and ensure this rash isn’t contagious, so I’ll have time to convince him it’s a great idea before bringing her home. How about I call you Winnie? You look like a Winnie.”

And just like that, the dog’s fate is sealed with the biggest upgrade it could imagine. It likely slept on rocks last night, and post quarantine, it will have its choice of furniture at Anna’s.

Once Anna gets everything wrapped up, she links her arm with mine and directs me to the front of the clinic, where the secretary is cleaning out a desk drawer. Anna wishes her a good night before heading to the parking lot.

“She only stayed so she could see you.” Anna rolls her eyes.

“Now you know how I feel every time Diego flirts with you.”

Anna laughs. “He only does that to get under your skin. I’m not going to tell you how many of my friends have seen pictures of you and asked me to introduce you to them.”

“Why are you holding back on me?”

Anna guffaws, and I smirk as I latch my seat belt in her passenger seat, missing my truck as I tuck my knees in so they don’t hit the dash.

“Why did you pick a clown car?” I ask, trying to move the seat back only to realize it’s back as far as it goes.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m reducing my carbon footprint, so your future kids, nieces, and or nephews don’t have to wear space masks whenever they go outside. You’re welcome.”

“What about saving my knees?” I ask.

Anna rolls her eyes again. “Whose house is the party at tonight that you’re going to with Diego?”

“Blake’s.”

Anna tries to draw a face to the name, but I know she won’t remember him.

“We played football together,” I tell her. “He’s having a party with some guys from the team and probably everyone else from high school.”

“That will be fun,” her voice is too chipper.

I don’t have the heart to tell her I have no interest. Anna missed out on most teen milestones, including parties and college, due to her battle with cancer.

“Will Breanne be there?” she asks, referring to my ex.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her in a year.”

Anna glances at me.

“What?”

“Just wanted to see if you were lying. We both know she’s your weak spot.”

Denial twists a lie on my tongue, but Anna would see straight through it. She always does. “Want to get any more punches in while you have the chance?”

She smirks. “Just promise me if you see her tonight and feel any of those old feelings, you’ll step outside and call me so I can remind you why you don’t want to get involved with her again.”

“I don’t plan on going.”

“Diego made it pretty clear you are.”

I scoff.

“Just promise me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Does Vic agree to this shit?”

“Always.”

I shake my head, fighting amusement. “You don’t have to worry. That train has left the station.”

“Yeah, but someone keeps calling it back to the station again. And again. And again.”

“Thanks for that reminder.”

“Now promise.”

“I promise,” I mutter begrudgingly, not because I have other motives but because Anna has so little faith in me.

As we pull through the front gates of our parents’ house, Anna releases a sigh. The expansive property and house have never felt like home, but less so after being gone for many years. I considered staying at Anna’s or Diego’s for the trip, but considering how both our parents avoid this place nearly as avidly as I do, I thought it would be easier, especially considering the remodels happening at Anna’s.

However, Mom’s garage door is open, and her white Mercedes is visible as we pull into the large, circular drive.

“I guess I should pop in and say hi.” Anna releases her seat belt. She and our mom have a strained relationship that neither acknowledges because they both feel too guilty to say a damn thing.

We find Mom in the basement. I spent most of my teen years in the cavernous space when I wasn’t at the hospital with Anna or practicing football. But working out, fortune tellers, and what she called natural healers became our mother’s focus and how she learned to deal with the neglect and trauma that came with raising two kids mostly alone and then having one of those kids become chronically ill while our Dad disappeared, burying himself with the excuse of work. She pastes a smile on her face as she swipes at a streak of sweat.

“Hey, kids!” She goes from sitting on the stationary bike to standing. “I’m almost done. Just three miles left.”

Anna glances at me wordlessly, conveying an entire conversation. Our mom was always obsessed about her appearance, but after our perfect family learned that Anna had cancer, that fa?ade was fractured, and both our parents became desperate to control something.

Only that control never yielded.

Suddenly, that party at Blake’s doesn’t seem like the worst idea.