People chuckle—bless them.
“So... sorry to interrupt your normal evening, but things are about to get weird.”
More laughter. Good. Buy goodwill before the public meltdown.
I gesture toward the first panel. “Originally, the heritage walk was supposed to focus on multi-generation Morgan Lodge history—everything Grammie Bea told so many times she could've copyrighted the stories.”
Ripples of laughter. Even Roman cracks a tiny, betrayed cough.
“But because of the storm...” I inhale. “And because I apparently lost every functional brain cell I once possessed... I had the chance to do something different.”
I draw a long breath. It feels like prying open my ribs.
“This is the Fifth Generation Edition. Everett's generation. The one who didn't just inherit devotion—he built it. He's been choosing this place since before he understood what choosing meant.”
People murmur.
I move to the first board: Everett at fifteen, elbow-deep in a snowmobile engine he had absolutely no business taking apart. Everett during his first aid certification—jaw clenched, determined. Everett teaching a little kid how to drive a nail straight, taking twice as long because the kid refused to quit, so Everett refused too.
“These are the first photos I ever took of him,” I say. “Before I knew what exposure was. Before I knew what I was looking at. Before I realized this boy was going to wreck my life a little, fix it a lot, and somehow become the safest place I knew.”
A soft wave rolls through the room.
Roman looks at Everett like he's seeing him with brand-new eyes. Caleb tilts his head like a confused husky. Nolan goes still—absorbing everything.
And Everett...
He just looks at me.
Steady. Unblinking. Like he's watching his own heartbeat walk around the room.
It strips me bare all over again.
I expected to expose myself to strangers. To Tara. To the cameras. To my brothers—who are absolutely going to need emotional support beverages after this.
I braced for that part.
What I didn't prepare for was how exposed I'd feel tohim.
The world seeing my teenage crush is one thing.
But Everett seeing my private first moments—every shaky, ridiculous discovery of what love was for me, and who it was for—that's different. That's intimate in a way I've never said out loud.
I pause. Swallow.
I never learned how these things were supposed to work. My mom died before the whys.
Why someone can knock the air out of your lungs by smiling. Why wanting someone feels like falling down stairs you willingly jumped from. Why the safest place can also be the scariest.
I grew up with brothers—good ones, but not exactly emotional tour guides. So instead of asking questions, I took pictures. I documented what I didn't understand.
Maybe that's not how people do it. Maybe it's messy.
But it'smine.
And tonight... it's his too.
“When I was younger,” I say, “I loved the mountain. I loved the lodge. But mostly... I loved the boy who belonged to both.”
