42
Henry
My sweat-soakedthermals are starting to give me a chill. It’s been a good two-hour ride so far and Michael doesn’t seem interested in slowing down any time too soon. The fat-biking trails are freshly plowed from the blizzard that came through a day ago, and he’s loving it.
I take off my Oakley’s and wipe my face down. The sun is bright and reflecting off the river. Mix that with the bright white snow and it’s almost blinding. I can barely see the clear blue sky.
“Hold up,” I radio over to Michael, who is a decent distance in front of me. The talkies built into our helmets were designed so our guides could connect with everyone as they move over trails. It’s a safety precaution first, but it also allows less experienced patrons to get an overview of the valley they’re riding through.
“I think there could be a stop here where each of the trails converge. A central location where we can set up a pop-up of sorts to refuel with something warm. Maybe a snack,” Michael says while looking around where we’ve taken a break. It’s a smart move and a simple addition that would bring in more revenue.
“Smart,” I say, while taking a pull from my water bottle. I know I should think through the execution of this with him, but the truth is, I’m distracted.
“I could see if we can get one of those pre-fab airstream trailers to start. Something we could take in and out if needed. I feel like the zoning would be much faster too. Any electricity we’d need could be generator-run to start. If it makes sense for the rest of this season, then we can think about a more permanent fixture,” he says, walking around the area.
The riverbank is about 100 feet from where we’ve stopped. The air always feels a bit heavier in lower elevation, but it’s crisp and clean. Even though it’s cold, the sun and temperature spike today melted a decent amount from the ridge, which means the river is high and loud. It’s easy to be distracted by it.
“Tell me what’s going on, man.”
I look back at him. I’m not about to play dumb. Out of anybody, Michael notices things before the rest of us. And I’d never lie to him. Normally, I’d be thinking through the details of a business idea like this one, so a one-word answer is a flashing red sign to my brother that sayssomething’s off.
Michael laughs and then says, “Hen, I need to work out for at least another hour before I can call it a day, so you either tell me now or I’m going to obsess over it. And I’ll just keep asking until you tell me, so,”—he shrugs his shoulders—“your call, but something is different with you.”
I pull off my leather gloves and unclasp my helmet. I look at my brother with a smirk on his face, as if he already knows what I’m going to say. “Would it be too dramatic to say everything?”
“Only if it’s not true. But you’re not usually one to be dramatic. If you were Law, then I’d probably start laughing and keep riding, but that’s not you, man.”
He mimics my move, removing his gloves and helmet.
“I went ahead and fell in love with her. And now…” I rub the back of my neck and look down at my bike. “Fuck. Now, I don’t know how I’m just going to pretend like I don’t want to be with her every goddamn minute.”
Michael’s eyebrows raise as high as his hairline. I don’t think he was expecting me to say love, maybe that I slept with her, but not this. Not love.
“We’re talking about who I think we’re talking about, right? Loud, talks too much, blonde, gets on my nerves, but somehow, I miss her when she’s not around?”
I laugh at that description because it’s incredibly accurate. “That’s who I’m talking about.” I blow out a heavy breath.
Michael squints at me when he asks, “Does she want the same thing?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I think she does. She’s going to fight it, because she’s a pain in the ass. But this isn’t one-sided.”
“But what if it is?”
I put my leather gloves back on, securing my helmet next. “Then it looks like I’m going to have to find out. You’re coming to that bachelor party tonight. She’s doing the tattoos.”
He laughs. “I really don’t want to.”
“I really don’t give a shit. You’re going.”
I kick the snow that’s caked onto my boot off, using the pedal, and start moving. “I’d rather avoid the drama. Can you just tell me how it went?”
“No fucking way. You’ve stirred the pot, and now you’re going to be there for moral support. Or play interference with whatever douchebags are likely flirting with her.”
“It’s Law’s friends, so likely all of them. Wearetalking about Giselle, right?” he calls out.
I look back over my shoulder as he rides up closer. I don’t even need to respond. There wouldn’t be anybody else. He knows that. Of all my family, Michael has witnessed it for years.
He yells back, “Because if she sees you, you bet your ass she’ll be the one doing the flirting. That woman loves nothing more than to piss you off.”