Chapters (85)
- BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
- ONE
- Rosey
- TWO
- Byron
- THREE
- Rosey
- FOUR
- Byron
- FIVE
- Rosey
- SIX
- Byron
- SEVEN
- Rosey
- EIGHT
- Rosey
- NINE
- Byron
- TEN
- Rosey
- ELEVEN
- Byron
- TWELVE
- Rosey
- THIRTEEN
- Byron
- FOURTEEN
- Rosey
- FIFTEEN
- Rosey
- SIXTEEN
- Byron
- SEVENTEEN
- Rosey
- EIGHTEEN
- Byron
- NINETEEN
- Rosey
- TWENTY
- Rosey
- TWENTY-ONE
- Byron
- TWENTY-TWO
- Byron
- TWENTY-THREE
- Rosey
- TWENTY-FOUR
- Rosey
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Byron
- TWENTY-SIX
- Rosey
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- Byron
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- Rosey
- TWENTY-NINE
- Byron
- THIRTY
- Rosey
- THIRTY-ONE
- Rosey
- THIRTY-TWO
- Byron
- THIRTY-THREE
- Rosey
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Rosey
- THIRTY-FIVE
- Byron
- THIRTY-SIX
- Rosey
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Byron
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Byron
- EPILOGUE
- A month later – New York City
- 14 months later - Star Falls
- MR. MAYFAIR
- Beck
- Beck
- Stella
- BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
Polly must see me coming, because she opens the passenger door. I’m just a couple of yards from the exit when I feel a hand on my arm and my heart sinks.
I stop and turn, accepting defeat.
I’ve been caught.
When I look up, I expect to see Frank staring back at me—but it’s a small man with jet-black hair who I don’t recognize. “You dropped this,” he says, handing me Lydia’s hoodie.
I laugh. I’m still free. “Thank you!” I say, beaming at him.
I forget any pretense of making a graceful exit. I run to the cab, to Polly, to freedom.
Nothing, not even God, is going to stop me.
TWO
Byron
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.