Charlotte remembered everything, every detail, and Brighton was sure of it. She was sure of it,andit pissed her off, thisroller-coaster ride she’d been on since arriving in Winter River. Charlotte ignoring her. Charlotte kissing her back in the woods. Charlotte declaring them friends. Charlotte saying things likeI miss youand then pretty much taking them back.
Brighton was tired, and tender, and goddammit, she was angry.
“Welcome, welcome!” a voice boomed as they entered the lodge. The space was open and warm, all whiskey-colored logs and bronzed-nickel light fixtures, a wide concierge desk to the right and a lobby area with dark leather couches covered in red-and-black buffalo-print throws, a fire roaring in the giant fireplace. A huge Christmas tree sat in the back corner, white lights gleaming, windows all around sparkling with fairy lights.
It was a true winter wonderland.
“Daddy, hey,” Sloane said, wrapping her arms around a man with dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair. He wore black-framed glasses and a green sweater covered in embroidered snowflakes.
“My girls,” he said, scooping Adele into his embrace as well, hugging both of them close. “Merry Christmas.”
Brighton’s throat suddenly felt achy. She still hadn’t talked to her mom, though she’d had a few emails. She missed her parents so much she couldn’t breathe sometimes, a state that only contributed to her irritability.
“This place is beautiful, Mr. Berry,” Elle said after introductions were made.
“Call me Ray, please. And thank you. We like it,” he said. “Nicole is teaching a ski class, so you’ll meet her later, but right now, let’s get you settled into your cabins before this snowstorm locks us all in!”
He laughed, but Brighton saw Charlotte freeze.
“Locks us all in?” Charlotte asked. “Is…is it going to do that?”
Raymond waved a hand. “Supposed to get around six to ten inches. Perfect for the slopes.”
After Ray put on his coat and boots, he nodded them toward the back of the building, waving at a few guests lounging by the fire with books as he went, and led them back outside. The snowfall had lessened, though the sky was a thick white and gray, packed clouds swirling above them.
They followed a stone path, overnight bags in hand, toward a set of tiny cabins so quaint and perfect that Brighton couldn’t help but smile. Each structure had a green tin roof and was about the size of a large room, complete with a holiday wreath on the front door and white lights bordering the windows.
“Heat’s pumping, and room service is on me,” Ray said as he dropped three sets of keys into Adele’s gloved hand. “And these will get you on any slope you choose.” He handed out passes to each of them, and the group offered a chorus of thank-yous.
“Just glad to have you,” he said. “We’ll see you for dinner in the big house at seven.”
And with that, he kissed Adele and Sloane on their cheeks and tromped off through the snow.
“Okay, come and get ’em,” Adele said, holding up the keys, their fobs numbered one through three.
Brighton grabbed number one before anyone else could say anything. “Charlotte and I will take this one.”
Adele lifted her brow at Brighton. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” she said.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, baby girl,” Adele said, quieter this time.
“I do,” Brighton said, though at that moment, she didn’t at all. She just knew she was done feeling small, ignored, forgotten. Done feeling like the whole disaster of her relationship with Charlotte was all her fault. They both shared some blame, and she needed Charlotte to understand that. Clearly, the only way to get her ex to slow down for one damn second and be real was to semi-trap her in a luxury cabin in the middle of Colorado. Brighton would have felt slightly guilty if she weren’t so frustrated.
“Okay,” Adele said, “though you realize this means you’re making me room with my sister.” Manish plucked a key from her palm and winked before he and Elle, two peas in a snowy pod, hurried off toward cabin number three.
“You’ll survive.” Brighton jiggled the key, then turned to where Charlotte was looking like a fox caught in a trap, her eyes wide, her mouth held tight. “Ready?” Brighton said to her.
“Sure,” Charlotte said, rotating her shoulders back, a classic Charlotte move when she was bracing herself for something.
“I won’t bite,” Brighton said.
Charlotte said nothing, just looked at Sloane with a sort of “save me” expression, but Sloane simply looked back, a tiny crinkle to her brow.
“Hey, everyone,” a deeper voice said just as Brighton slipped the key into the lock. She looked up to see Wes walking up to them all bundled up, a duffel bag over his shoulders. A tall Black man with shoulder-length braids stood next to him.
“Wes,” Charlotte said on an exhale.
