Love Fast

When I left my hometown of Star Falls, Colorado, nearly fifteen years ago, I never thought I’d be back. Not even for the holidays. I knew I didn’t belong here. Which is why it’s so surprising that being back feels… not as strange as I expected it to. And the plaid shirt I’m wearing feels oddly comfortable. I don’t know why I kept it all these years. I found it at the back of my closet in New York and stuffed it in my luggage, reasoning that I’d seen eighteen Januarys in Star Falls and none of them were warm.

I upend my suitcase on the floor and start to unpack. Every time I’ve been back here over the last two years, I’ve always lived out of my luggage. But this trip feels more permanent. Not that I’m back for good—hell no—but I’ll be staying longer than I have on any of my previous trips. Eventually, I’ll move from the cabin I’ve rented into one of the lodges at the Colorado Club—the billionaires’ playground I’m constructing on the edge of town, a little way up the mountain. I want the construction workers to focus on the lodges that will be bought or rented by the centimillionaires and billionaires who will attend the Club’s grand opening at the end of next month.

My personal accommodations can wait.

I can’t bring myself to put on the cowboy hat and boots that are almost mandatory in Star Falls, but I put on the steel-toe boots I had couriered from Safety With Us in Brooklyn to my apartment in Tribeca, and my Colorado Rockies baseball hat I’ve had since I was a kid. I make a mental note to scuff my shoes up a little before I go into Grizzly’s tonight. The leather practically gleams, they’re so new.

Going to the only bar in town, if you don’t count the Snowdrop Inn—which I don’t—isn’t something I’ve done since I’ve been back in town. And apparently, it’s been noticed. I should have known my every move in Star Falls would be carefully catalogued, but I’ve had other things on my mind—like the fact I’m sinking my entire fortune into the Colorado Club.

When I asked Hart McEvoy, the Club’s general manager, why we weren’t getting more local applicants for all the jobs we’re advertising, he informed me that there’s still local hostility toward the Club. We have hundreds of positions to fill, and although many of them have been taken by people from across the state who will live in staff housing, I need local people to be part of the Club, too. They’ll be more reliable and less likely to leave.

It irritates the shit out of me that people are being so short-sighted.

I’m here, bringing jobs, bringing life to the town, and people still find a reason to bitch and moan. I need to win them over. My worn jeans and new boots are part of my I’m-a-local-guy persona. I grew up here. I am local. It just doesn’t feel like it, since I’ve been away almost half my life. New York feels like it’s always been home. Star Falls is just the name of a place on my passport that reminds me where I was born.

I lace up my shoes, lock up. Not that there’s any danger of a burglary in Star Falls. It’s dark out and I can only just see the tops of the familiar mountains I know cut through the clear sky all around me.

The one thing New York City doesn’t have is a sky like the one over Star Falls. The fucking stars always get to me. Every time. Even when I lived here and had never seen another sky, I knew the one I was born under was special. It never gets fully dark here because of all the goddamn stars. There’s no doubt it’s beautiful.

I slide into my truck and head the mile into town toward Grizzly’s. I just want to show my face. And maybe accidently run into a few people. Star Falls understood what an influencer was long before social media was born. I figure if I can get certain big personalities in town on board with the Colorado Club, the “local resistance” will melt away and Hart will have people lining up for all the jobs we have to fill.

My first target is Jim Johnson. Or more specifically, his wife, Sue. She’s the most influential person in Star Falls. But I need Jim on board first. I need him to soften up the ground for me before I try to get Sue to change her mind about the Colorado Club.

I pull up outside Grizzly’s and realize I haven’t scuffed up my shoes. People are going to clock my spotless boots as soon as I walk in the place and label me a city boy. Which I am. Except tonight, I’m trying to win people over. Or at least not alienate more of them.

The ground is frozen, and there’s not much boot-dirtying mud around, but after kicking my tires and stepping on my own feet, the leather no longer gleams like a flashlight with new batteries. Hopefully no one saw me. I hate to think of the rumors this town could invent if anyone saw me trying to scuff my own boots.

I left town before I could legally drink, so I only ever went into Grizzly’s to look for my father. I open the door and am instantly transported back twenty years. The scent of stale beer and the crack of pool balls brings me to fourteen again, desperate to find my father. My mom had collapsed and I’d gone to fetch Dad. But he hadn’t been at Grizzly’s. Or maybe he’d been in the back playing poker. Losing at poker, knowing him.

I head straight to the bar, slide onto one of the tan leather stools and order a beer. The bartender is young, skinny with a tattoo of what could be a Chinese dragon in red ink on his arm. He doesn’t know me and I don’t know him. Suits me just fine.

One of the reasons I haven’t come into town over the last couple of years when I’ve been back overseeing things at the Colorado Club is because I don’t have any connections in this place. My dad was found dead a couple of towns away after a bar fight. My mother remarried three years later while I was in New York and moved to Southern California with my sister, Mary. There’s nothing here for me.

“One beer coming right up, Byron,” the bartender says. Maybe I don’t know him, but apparently he knows me.

I shouldn’t be surprised. There won’t be a person in Star Falls who doesn’t know that Mack Miller’s kid is building something on the side of the mountain. I just hadn’t expected that my face would be so easy to put to my name. The way this town gossips is another reason I’ve avoided coming back. People are just so in each other’s business. After my dad died, my mother cried for weeks, not because Dad was dead, but because she knew everyone would be talking about it, saying how she was better off as a widow.

“Well, well, well,” a woman’s voice says from behind me. “Look who just rode into town. Finally.”

Part of me wants to ignore it. Whoever it is doesn’t have malice in their tone, but by responding, I’ll be opening a can of worms—and I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

“Hey, you got a hug for an old friend?” the voice asks.

There’s no getting out of this. I turn on my stool and come face-to-face with Eva Maples. I haven’t seen her since the day I graduated high school.

“I haven’t seen you since the day we graduated high school,” she says. “Heard you were back in the area.” She pauses and gives me a look full of meaning—what meaning, I’m not sure. “You never made it into town until now.” She shakes her head disapprovingly, but holds out her arms. I bend and pull her into an awkward hug.

She laughs as she pulls away. “Never were a hugger, were you, Byron? Too much of the tortured poet in you.” She fiddles with the back of her apron. “You just drinking or you wanna order some food?” She leans in and whispers, “Don’t say I told you, but steer clear of the chicken meatballs.” She clears her throat and resumes her normal voice. I glance around to see who’s listening. Everyone, it seems, though at least they’re pretending not to. “The wings are the best.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Do you have a side of broccoli?”

She laughs, pats me on the shoulder and walks off, like I just told her the funniest joke she’s heard this year. Except I wasn’t joking.

I’m still trying to figure out whether or not I’m going to get that side of broccoli when a heavy hand drops on my shoulder.

“So, Byron Miller. What you doing at Grizzly’s? I hear you have a fancy bar up on that mountain.” Jim Johnson—just the man I was looking for. Things might have changed over the last fifteen years, but apparently you can still always see Jim at Grizzly’s at eight on a weeknight. When I was growing up, Sundays were the only days Jim stayed away from the local watering hole.

I hold out my hand. “Jim Johnson,” I say. “Good to see you again.”

He shakes my hand, nodding. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

There’s nothing I can say to that. I should have come before now. The town has taken my absence as a sign of disrespect.

“Can I buy you a beer?” I ask.

“That you can, son.” I try to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine when he uses the term son. He slides into the seat next to mine and I order his drink. “Wanna tell me a little bit about what you’re doing up on that mountain?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. This is why I’m here, after all. I might have a permanent PR associate in place at the Colorado Club, but she’s focused on getting the Club coverage in high-end international publications, courting celebrities, getting the zero point one percenters talking.

I should have been managing the residents of Star Falls from the beginning. Instead I’ve buried my head in the sand, hoping I could build a resort on the edge of town and maybe no one in Star Falls would notice.

“You’ve probably gathered it’s a retreat. A place where people from all over can come and appreciate the great state of Colorado.”

He narrows his eyes and takes a slug of the beer that’s been put in front of him. “Is that right? And you going to encourage these visitors down to our town?”

This strikes me as a trick question. On the one hand, he might see the benefits of having people with a pocketful of cash spending it in Star Falls. On the other hand, he might not want a bunch of strangers interrupting their peaceful way of life.

“That’s something I’ve been thinking about,” I say. “I’d like your thoughts on whether that’s something you’d like to see.”

He lets out a small chuckle.

“I’m creating a lot of jobs,” I say. “Opportunities. If people want them.”

“I hear you’re shipping people in from out of town.”

“There will be plenty of staff housing so people don’t have to be local, but I’m advertising in the Star FallsGazette. Got it online too. And there’s flyers being handed out at Marty’s Market and the post office. We’re just not seeing the interest from the town.”

A silence settles between us. Jim isn’t a bad guy. He’s not about to run me out of town for daring to change small-town life in Star Falls. At the same time, he’s protective of this place and its residents. Perhaps more so than his wife.

“How’s Mrs. Johnson?”

“You can call her Sue. She’s good. We can see the lights of your place from our back porch.”

I scan his face, looking for signs of anger or frustration, but I don’t see any. I relax my shoulders. I’ve spent the last three years of my life getting the relevant permissions and permits from local and state officials, and there were never any complaints from anyone from Star Falls.

“How’s it look?” I ask.

“Pretty,” he replies.

There’s a beat of silence before I say, “I’d love to have you come and look around if you’d like.”

He sucks in a breath. “Listen, son. I’m not interested in fancy restaurants and spas and whatever the hell else you’ve got going on up there.” He takes a sip of beer and I wait for the but. I know there’s one coming. “I’ve been walking through those woods and across those mountains for a good five decades now.” He glances around the bar. “Just like a lot of other people in this town.”

I nod, keen to hear what it is he’s trying to tell me.

“I do it less in the winter. Don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. But I still like to wander with my dogs. You know?”noveldrama

“Right,” I reply.

“And we’re hearing rumors about electric fencing and checkpoints and… I’m not sure that’s going to go down so well. From what I hear, you’ve got your hands on fifteen thousand acres of land—that’s pretty much everything of the mountains and the valley that you can see from this town. Much more than the five hundred acres your father had.”

I take a swig of my beer. My father’s farm had been small by Colorado standards. He grew apples mainly, and some other fruit. The farm had been in the family three generations, and I was supposed to be the fourth. At least, that’s what Mom always told me.

When Dad died and we discovered the huge loans he’d taken out on the farm, I don’t know if I was more relieved or horrified. I was no longer locked into a future I didn’t want, but I also didn’t know what the future would look like otherwise. My father’s gambling meant I had to forge my own path, but it also meant the farm’s lineage had been cut short.

Until I bought it back five years ago.

“You’re right,” I say to Jim. “Fifteen thousand two hundred forty-four acres.”

“And as well as you buying up some of the neighboring farms, some of that land belonged to the state before you.”

I nod. I’d bet Jim knows exactly the boundary line of the Colorado Club. I’m not quite sure what he’s getting at, but no doubt I will soon.

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor catches my attention. Someone comes up from behind Jim and offers me his hand.

It takes me a minute before I realize it’s Walt fucking Ripley. Our mothers had been best friends since school and got pregnant with us both at the same time. “Hey, man,” I say. He’s unmistakably Walt, but older and forty pounds heavier. Then again, it’s been fifteen years since I laid eyes on him.

“Byron,” he says with a nod.

“Can I get you a beer?” I ask.

“You bet your ass, you can. I figure you owe me for going off to New York without me.”

Walt had been the guy who stood by my side at my father’s funeral. The guy who’d told me it was going to be okay when I found out we were going to have to move because the family farm was being sold by my father’s creditors to pay back all the loans he’d taken out to pay off his gambling debts. He was the boy who helped me formulate a plan to get out of Star Falls. Of course I hadn’t forgotten him. I just hadn’t let myself think about Star Falls after I left. It held too many painful memories.

“I’ve just been telling Byron that I still want to roam around with my dog,” Jim says.

I understand Jim’s frustration. The problem I have is that the promise the Colorado Club makes is exclusivity, privacy, and security. If celebrities want to escape LA, I want their first thought to be the Colorado Club.

“We can figure it out,” I assure Jim. “There aren’t going to be electric fences.”

“There shouldn’t be any fences—electric or not,” Jim says. “This is wilderness. Wilderness isn’t fenced off and claimed by an elite couple of thousand people in the world.”

They’re both staring at me, and I know they’re right. It’s just, for the Colorado Club to work, it needs to have a boundary. I nod. “I hear you.”

“It’s God’s country,” Jim says. “Not Byron Miller’s.”

I don’t ask him whether he’d welcome people wandering across his land. It’s not worth the fight—I’m not going to win, even if it is a double standard. But if the idea of having the land I own fenced off is a problem for the residents of Star Falls, I’m not sure what I can do about it.

I’m saved from having to think up a reasonable answer when Jim turns to see someone come through the door. I pick at the edge of the blue and white label on my beer bottle, wondering if there’s a solution to the problem. There’s got to be.

I turn to assure Jim that we’ll figure something out, but his attention isn’t on me anymore. He’s looking over my shoulder. I turn to follow his gaze and see a woman in her mid-twenties with long dark hair, walking toward the bar. She looks a little bedraggled, although she’s pretty. She’s definitely not from around here. Nothing too unusual in that, aside from the fact this woman is wearing sneakers, a faded gray hoodie, and a wedding dress.

I glance at Jim and he shoots me a look that says, What in the hell?

I still don’t have any answers for him. I glance at Walt to see if he understands what’s going on, but he looks as confused as I feel. I turn to the woman again, just as she slides onto the barstool one down from mine.

“I’d like a drink,” she says.

The bartender who knows me better than I know him says, “Well, you’ve come to the right place. You want to be more specific?”

Her eyelids flicker as she takes a breath and thinks about it, like she was expecting the bartender to decide for her. Now that he hasn’t, she’s having to make a decision she hadn’t planned for. “Do you have tequila? On the rocks?”

She picks one of the three brand names she’s given, and when the glass appears in front of her, she hesitates before she brings it to her lips. She takes the tiniest of sips and lets out a huge sigh. It seems she’s been waiting for that drink all day.

“You just get into town?” Jim asks the woman.

The woman doesn’t hear him at first. She’s staring forward and thinking so hard, I can almost see her thoughts in front of her face. She’s worried. And out of energy. Like she’s reached the end of the road.

Then, as if Jim’s words have taken a couple of seconds to register, she turns to him. She offers him a tight smile and nods—she’s not interested in small talk.

Jim goes to follow up on his question, and both Walt and I interrupt him at the same time.

“I’m sure we’ll come to some understanding,” I say, just as Walt tells Jim I’m not about to stop him walking his dog wherever he wants.

“Let me have a think about it, Jim,” I say. “And if you have any other questions⁠—”

“I have a few things I want to talk to you about,” he says. He’s about to launch into his list, but he stops himself. “Why don’t you settle back in. Catch up with your buddy here.” He slaps Walt on the back. “But don’t be a stranger, you hear me? I’m gonna run. Gotta get back home by the time Love Island finishes.”

I want to laugh, but I stop myself. “Say hi to Sue from me.”

“You sure you want me to? Your presence will be required at Sunday dinner if I do that.”

I nod. “Say hi to Sue for me.”

“See you Sunday,” he says, as he drops some cash on the bar and heads out.

I wasn’t expecting the warm hum that settles in me. I walked out on this town fifteen years ago and Jim’s acting like I’ve only been gone a couple of months. It’s almost like they always knew I’d come back, and they’ve just been waiting.

“So you’re going to come to dinner on Sunday?” Walt says from beside me.

“You’re going to be there too?”

“I’m there every Sunday. I married Patty.”

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “Patty Johnson? How’d you manage that?” Patty Johnson was one of the most formidable girls at our high school. She was two years older than us and ran the school more than the principal did. Just like her mother before her, she was an influencer before the time of social media. She decided what was cool and what wasn’t. The sweater every girl should own, the boys the girls were allowed to ask to the spring formal. At fourteen, when she took up the flute out of nowhere, every kid in the school badgered their parents for lessons.

Walt laughs. “It took me a while to win her over, but perseverance paid off.”

“He married Patty?” I say to Eva, as she delivers a bowl of chips.

“A thousand years ago,” Eva says. “It’s been a while, Byron Miller.”

For a second, I wonder why it’s been so long. Everything’s so welcoming and warm and familiar. For almost a minute, I can forget all the pain that came with this place.

“I gotta go,” Walt says. “Patty watches Love Island with Sue. I have to go pick her up.” He pauses, and I want to make a time for us to catch up, but I stop myself, because what’s the point? We’ll catch up, and I’ll probably never see him again. I’m here to do a job—get the Colorado Club up and running. I’m not here to take a walk down memory lane. However nice that walk might start off, it’ll soon turn dark and muddy, and before I know it, I’ll be waist-high in cow shit.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” he says.

For a second I’m confused, and then I remember Jim’s invitation. It’s not like I’m planning to go. But maybe I should. I do need to get Sue on board. We’ve got to fill the vacancies up at the Club.

I chuckle. “Maybe you will.”

He gives me a two-fingered salute and heads out. I order another beer and surreptitiously scan the rest of the bar. Is there anyone else here I need to talk to? Any other old-school influencers?

The runaway bride next to me is on her phone. She has long fingers, and she’s gripping the device like she’s holding on to a life raft. I wonder if she really is a runaway bride or if she’s an extra from a film or a model from a photo shoot. None of the potential explanations for the white dress explain why she’s sitting on the stool next to me.

I wouldn’t consider myself a nosey person. Not normally. But I’ve come back to Star Falls after fifteen years and nothing much seems to have changed. The woman next to me is the exception. I’m surprised Jim didn’t ask her to fill out a questionnaire so he could report back to the rest of the town about who she is and why she’s at Grizzly’s. This town likes to know every single detail of each other’s lives.

The bartender asks if she wants another drink. The woman pauses for a second before she asks for tap water. I want to offer to buy her a drink, but then it would get awkward, because she might think I’m making a pass at her. I wouldn’t be. Not that she’s not attractive—she is. Big blue eyes and flawless skin and dark hair that’s curled at the ends and seems to go on forever.

I’m staring.

If we were back in New York right now, I would have had a drink thrown in my face at the very least.

But we’re definitely not in New York, and I’m not sure she’s even noticed my staring. She’s too lost in her thoughts. Probably she’s thinking about the groom she jilted or the town she just rolled into. I’d pay more than a penny to know what exactly is on her mind.

When the bartender delivers the water, the bride asks, “I checked at the little inn on the corner, the one with the snowdrops in pots on the stoop? To see if they had any rooms for the night—two nights maybe—but they were completely full. They suggested I try here. Do you have rooms?”

There’s only one inn in town—snowdrops or no snowdrops.

“We don’t have rooms,” the bartender says. “Tanya probably meant for you to ask around in here.” He briefly slides his gaze to me. “We have a few Airbnbs in town but I think most things are fully booked.” She looks a little confused. And she should be. It’s not like Star Falls is hosting an annual film festival or anything, but the Colorado Club has booked out the Snowdrop Inn for senior managers who are still looking for accommodations. And I booked out Beth and Mike’s two cabins because they’re the closest accommodations to the Club. I’m only living in one of them, but I didn’t want a nosey neighbor keeping track of my comings and goings.

She turns, and her gaze hits me like a thunderbolt. She’s gorgeous. A smattering of freckles across her nose and full bee-stung lips that I’d be intent on kissing if we were in New York. But we’re not in New York. We’re in Star Falls, Colorado, and the cabin next door to mine is the only available accommodation in town.