He inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later—”
“You with Jacob working the lifts? I know you love it up there, that you’re saving your money up to roam the world when you graduate, but don’t forget, baby, school always comes first, before the resort.”
“I know.” Yeah, they wouldn’t even have the resort if it hadn’t been for their dad, but perversely they wouldn’t be in danger of losing it now for the same reason.
Back in the day, Richard Kincaid, sole proprietor of the then very small Cedar Ridge Resort, had taken advantage of a sweet, innocent eighteen-year-old Carrie on a business trip to Jackson Hole. And when the stick had turned blue, he’d made himself scarce.
They’d later learned he’d had a good reason for that. The man already had a family. This hadn’t stopped him from spawning a total of five children, though, to whom he’d left his Cedar Ridge Resort when he’d run off on all of them—but not before secretly mortgaging it to its eyeballs. He wasn’t exactly a role model.
Hud and Jacob had been left to raise themselves and their mom—who’d started exhibiting erratic behavior early on, like forgetting to make sure the boys ate and went to school. Then things had fallen apart so completely that Carrie, Jacob, and he had come to Cedar Ridge for help from Char, Aidan and Gray’s mom.
At twelve, Hud had thought he’d known everything he needed to know. And what he’d known was that he, Jacob, and Carrie were a tight unit of three that nothing could break. But Carrie had needed to go into a care facility and Char had gladly taken them in.
Suddenly Hud and Jacob hadn’t had to worry about getting them or their mom fed. Or how they’d get to school. Char worried about all of that for them, mothering the hell out of them while she was at it.
It’d been… freeing. And Hud had immediately fallen in love with Colorado, with the mountain. With his half siblings. With Char. With everything. He’d loved it all, and even though he and Jacob had made a pact to get the hell out as soon as they turned eighteen, Hud had always known that he wouldn’t want to leave.
That he’d never want to leave.
He and Jacob had taken jobs at the resort when they turned fifteen, starting out at the bottom as lift operators. Not a bad gig for two punk-ass kids who’d had a good time watching hot girls coming and going.
The best few years of Hud’s life. But eighteen had come all too quickly, and then the fight of all fights with Jacob.
“Don’t forget to get home in time for supper,” his mom said, bringing him back to the here and now. “I’m cooking up something special.”
She’d never cooked. For as far back as Hud could remember, he and Jacob had put together whatever meals they’d eaten. Actually, he’d put together the meals and Jacob had taken care of the house the best he could.
And to make Carrie feel better about it, Hud had always promised her it was “something special,” which usually meant he’d tossed together whatever shit he managed to scrape up. Hud remembered lots of ramen and even more apples and peanut butter.
Throat oddly tight, Hud squeezed his eyes shut and tried to dispel the images before they opened the door to more painful memories. “Gotta go, Mom.”
“Love you, baby,” she said, and disconnected.
Hud shoved his phone away and took a second to get his head together. It was the second Saturday in January, which meant high season. By noon they’d reach full capacity—great for the strained bank account of the resort, great for the shops and cafeteria, and all the other businesses in town.
It was great for everyone who didn’t have to manage a mountain full to the brim with people in day-off mode, which meant a lot of them had short-circuited all good sense and were accidents waiting to happen.
It was the reason that ski patrol was the biggest division on the mountain, and the highest staffed. And that staff all had to be highly trained for… well, anything.
It was a high-stress job, but one Hud wouldn’t trade for anything. Maybe once upon a time he’d dreamed of traveling the world but that hadn’t happened. He was happy here. He got to be on the mountain, and between that and being a cop ten shifts a month, he made enough that he was able to help keep his mom in a place that was good to her and safe. He also got to be with his crazy-ass siblings.
All except for one, anyway.
He was thinking about that, about Jacob, when he caught the flash of a cherry-red knit cap at the bottom near the lodge. He tried to focus in but the sun slanted over the peaks and right into his eyes.