“But, what if—” Lila argued.
“Lila, if I listened to every ‘what if,’ I’d never leave the house.” Capri leaned forward, her voice growing animated. “This is going to be epic! Snow flying everywhere, engines roaring, the wind in your face—freedom!”
Charlie Grace gave her a pointed look. “Freedom? You mean freezing.”
Capri laughed, brushing off the concern. “Oh, come on! What’s the point of living if you don’t push yourself every now and then? Besides, I’ve got the best sled in the race. Bodhi tuned it up, and I’ll be fine.”
“Capri.” Reva crossed her arms, the tone in her voice firm. “This isn’t about how good your snowmobile is. Unexpected avalanches don’t check your equipment before they barrel down the mountain. They’re dangerous, unpredictable, and they don’t give second chances.”
Lila raised an eyebrow. “And what does Jake think about all this?”
Capri let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Jake is wonderful, but he’s not my keeper. He doesn’t get a vote on how I spend my weekends. Besides, you’re all acting like this is my first brush with adrenaline. Need I remind you of the class five rapids I tackled last spring? Solo, might I add.”
Charlie Grace shook her head with a groan. “And we’re still recovering from the emotional trauma of that one.”
Capri smirked, unrepentant. “It was incredible. You should try it sometime—gets the heart racing in all the right ways.”
“Yeah, like straight into cardiac arrest,” Reva shot back. “You keep tempting fate, Capri. One of these days, it might actually answer.”
“I agree. That rafting stunt was reckless,” Charlie Grace muttered.
“And awesome,” Capri shot back. “Look, I get it. You’re all worried. But I’m not scared of a little snow. The sponsors will take every safety precaution. If I win—and I will—you can all sit back and say you know the champion of Devil’s Staircase.”
Reva groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” Capri said, grabbing the last bite of pie. “But I’m also fun, and that counts for something.”
Lila shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If fun gets you buried under six feet of snow, don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
Capri raised her fork like a toast. “Noted. Now, pass the whipped cream. I’ll need the fuel.”
2
Charlie Grace arrived home to a quiet house. Her dad was already in bed and Jewel was spending the night over at Gibbs’ house. Her ex-husband’s yellow lab had puppies and Jewel was enamored. Her daughter had already named all of them and was determined to talk her into letting her bring at least one home with her.
“Sorry, baby,” Charlie Grace had told her. “We have enough animals to feed. You’re just going to have to spend time with the puppies over at your dad’s house.”
The click of the bedroom door closing behind her offered a momentary retreat from the chaos of the day. As she slipped into her nighttime routine, she realized she hadn’t heard from Nick all day. Typically, he texted at least once a day, if not multiple times. She opened her phone and checked to be sure she hadn’t missed a message, but the screen remained stubbornly blank.
With a sigh, she plugged her phone into the charger and slipped into her favorite flannel pajamas, the kind a woman chooses when she’s divorced, home alone, and her boyfriend is out of town.
As Charlie Grace climbed into bed, she found herself staring at the ceiling, her thoughts circling around how lucky she was to have found Nick. His life as a production designer often pulled him back to Los Angeles, where the demands of his career were rooted in a world so different from Thunder Mountain. Even though he’d sold his house and moved closer to be with her, the travel remained constant—a reminder that, no matter how much he loved her, part of his heart belonged to his work.
With a restless sigh, Charlie Grace sat up in bed and reached for her laptop on the nightstand. If sleep wasn’t coming easily, she might as well distract herself. Flipping open the top, the familiar glow of the screen filled the room as she logged in and navigated to her social media.
Nick’s social media was filled with snapshots from the Oscars—a glittering world far removed from her rustic life on the ranch. There he was, smiling in his tuxedo, standing alongside stunning actresses draped in couture gowns that shimmered like starlight.
Charlie Grace had never cared much for Hollywood’s glitz and pretense but seeing him surrounded by so much beauty and sophistication stirred an old insecurity deep inside her. What could a woman in dusty boots and flannel shirts really offer a man accustomed to red carpets and designer dresses?
Charlie Grace thought of her parents’ marriage, a union that had weathered its share of storms—a few bad ones—but always held firm. Her mother and father had faced financial struggles, health scares, and the exhausting demands of raising a child with an independent streak, yet their commitment to each other never wavered.
She’d been young when her mother died but remembered there was something steady and reassuring about the way they loved—built not on grand gestures but on countless small acts of loyalty and care. Her dad’s soft chuckle when her mom teased him about his favorite chair, the way her mom drew his hot bath every night even after decades together—it all spoke of a bond forged through time and trust.
Charlie Grace had always longed for that kind of relationship, one that could stand the test of hardship and change.
She and Nick had been together for about nine months now. They’d first crossed paths when he stayed at the ranch as a guest, their shared love of photography sparking an instant connection. That spark had grown into a deeper connection, a bond that felt both steady and exhilarating.
Nick was everything she hadn’t found in her past relationships—confident, adventurous, and brimming with passion for life. He made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. Her former boyfriend, Jason, had been dependable but uninspired, his presence fading quietly into the background of her life. And her ex-husband, Gibbs? He had a knack for excuses and a wandering eye that made loving him feel like chasing the wind—futile and exhausting.
