Page 3 of Winter Memories

“Hopefully the town hasn’t changed much,” I whisper to myself and then glance back at Macklin to make sure he’s still asleep.

Wintervale never changed much while I was growing up, but I’m sure some things have changed since I was a wide-eyed 18-year-old who left and barely looked back. I’m afraid of going back.

What if no one remembers me? What if everyone remembers me? What if Fletcher hates me? What if he’s happily married with kids? What if I don’t find the peace and sense of home I’m so damn desperate for because I want it for Macklin?

The memory of the look on Fletcher’s face when he came to visit me at the end of my junior year at RISD and nothing felt right flashes in my head. We tried so hard during his trip to reconnect and find a way back to each other. Even though we loved each other just as much, just as strongly, as we always did, something was missing.

No matter how much we tried to force it, the chasm between us felt far too vast. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted him to as well.

I should have known he wouldn’t.

When he was getting ready to leave and I was fighting tears, he cupped my face in his hands, his dark eyes boring into mine. I shook my head, not wanting him to say it even though I knew there was no avoiding it.

“It’s okay, Eden,” he whispered, “my beautiful Shooting Star.” He kissed my forehead, and I could feel my heart cracking apart. “You need to be able to shine, to show the world just how bright and full of light you are.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I whimpered while knowing I was being selfish as hell.

“You’ll never lose me, you know that,” he sounded so sure, and I almost believed him. “But you need to be free.”

I’m not sure how long he held me while I cried before he needed to go and catch his flight. He took a part of me with him that day and I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.

Part of me wants to hope I’ll be able to become whole again, which I haven’t truly felt since the last time Fletcher held me in his arms. Hope is terrifying in its beauty. My soul aches with how much I’ve missed him over the years.

While closing the distance to my past and my new future, I try and build walls around my heart even though I know they’ll be useless the moment I see Fletcher Burns again.

CHAPTER 2

FLETCHER

As I pet Buttercup, I can’t help but smile at the gentle, sweeter than pie horse. She’s been with us for so long and takes being the mother hen of the barn very seriously. If it weren’t for her, the foals would be running around here with no manners and worse dispositions. She keeps everyone in line and teaches new mares how to be the best moms they can be.

“You’re a sweet girl,” I coo at Buttercup who snorts and eyes me like I’ve spoken an obvious truth.

I chuckle because she’s not wrong. Still, I like to tell all my horses how good they are. There might be people out there who only look at horses as beasts, as workers, but I know they’re so much more. They have fierce spirits, ones you can break or bolster.

I’ve always preferred to lift up their individual personalities and allow them the room to shine and be who they are. It’sseemed to work out just fine for me. The horses on the ranch respect me, even if a few of them like to push my buttons and their boundaries from time to time.

With a final look around the barn, making sure all the horses are cared for and have extra hay, which is essential for winter in Montana, I nod in approval. The horses are happy.

Limitless Ranch is thriving and what I’ve helped to keep going and strengthen is a source of pride for me. How could it not be? I’ve put everything I am into this land, into these horses, and into keeping the legacy of Limitless alive.

It’s the only thing I’ve been doing for the last thirteen years. Longer really, but thirteen years ago I let the only woman I’ve ever loved go and put all of my effort into the ranch. It was a way to distract myself from the pain, from missing Eden with every part of me. It took a great deal of effort not to resent the hell out of Limitless back then because the responsibility of the ranch was a burden I had to bear from an early age, one which kept me from following Eden wherever her dreams took her.

There was no way for me to be with Eden and I knew her dreams were bigger than Wintervale. When I encouraged her to go to art school, I knew the distance between us would cause a strain on our relationship; I thought we were strong enough to endure it. What I didn’t realize was how the distance would feel insurmountable at times. I didn’t know she would outgrow me and our love.

Maybe she didn’t. Maybe those were just the insecurities of a 20-year-old guy who didn’t know any better. But the last time I went to visit her, I could see the writing on the wall and the way the love we shared was frayed beyond repair.

I had to set her free because I wanted her to soar. The fear of her feeling like I was holding her back and that turning into resentment felt like the hounds of hell nipping at my heels. As difficult as it was to break it off with Eden and walk away, it was the right thing to do.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last 13 years. I can only hope she’s thriving. While I could find out how she’s been doing, I don’t feel the need to twist the knife in my chest in the other direction.

I head out of the barn and toward the main house, the same house I grew up in, because that’s where my brothers should be, and Noel is cooking tonight. Sure, I could head over to the house I built on the property for myself, but you don’t miss a meal when it’s Noel’s night to cook.

Noel spent the most time in the kitchen with mom before our parents handed the ranch over to me, bought their RV and took out to explore after putting so much of their lives into Limitless. He only became more interested in cooking when he returned after serving in the military. I think he was over not being able to control what he ate when he was deployed.

I’m not complaining about it, even if he can be a food snob, because he’s always trying new things and cooking delicious food. What’s there to complain about? If it could be his night to cook every day, I’d be more than happy about it.

When I step inside, I’m assaulted by something that smells fucking delicious. My mouth waters and I’m not even a little bit ashamed of it. Whatever Noel is making is garlicy with a hint of spice. It calls to me from the kitchen.

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