Page 10 of Dreams and Desires

Jacob nods, that playful spark fading into something more somber. “Yeah. To Brian Ellis. And they have two kids!”

The name hits me hard, and painful memories I'd locked away start clawing their way back. “Brian Ellis, the mayor’s son? That disgusting pig? For real?”

Jacob’s face tenses. He pauses briefly, and when he continues, there’s an edge to his voice I haven't heard before. “Yep. Well, he’s not just the mayor’s son anymore. He is the mayor now.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shakes his head, a wry smile appears at his lips. “Nope. Just imagine being married to that jerk. Guess we can cut her some slack for not being overly friendly today.”

I watch him closely, noticing the way he’s quick to defend Dominique.

“Yeah, I suppose being married to a jerk like Brian would wear anyone down,” I admit, sighing. “But still, I can’t believe he’s the mayor. Why do the worst people always seem to come out on top?”

Jacob shifts in the bed, wincing as he tries to get comfortable. “He might have the title, but he’s not exactly loved around here.”

“Oh?” I say, catching the hint of something deeper.

“Yeah,” Jacob says, leaning closer. “Folks are furious he’s trying to unload Cody Riverside Park to some big-shot hotel chain.”

I literally gasp. Not my Grams’ resting place!

“But, luckily, the town’s on the edge of rioting.” Jacob tells me, and a slow grin spreads across my face.

“Finally, someone’s making that guy sweat.”

Jacob nods, but his eyes hold a quiet sadness. “The park’s one of the last good things this town has. People don’t want to see it turned into a tourist trap.”

“Neither do I,” I reply softly “That park holds some of our best memories and Grams. She’s there.”

“Yes. She sure is.” He smiles and closes his eyes.

As time passes by in the quiet room, I listen to the soft beeps of the monitors blend withJacob’s steady breathing. He’s finally asleep and looking at him, I can see that this treatment really drains him. I squeeze his hand and just think about the old days, when our biggest worry was whether Dominique would smile at him.

Life is a lot messier now.Very messy and all I can do is hope this treatment makes my brother his old self again.

Chapter Four

Zade

The jet lands smoothly. Just a soft bounce, then a long hum of tires on the tarmac as we roll to a stop. I unbuckle, stretch, grab my bag from the seat beside me, and head for the stairs. My suit’s a little wrinkled from the flight, but it’ll straighten out on the move. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than creases.

As soon as I step outside, I feel the quiet. Not city quiet but real quiet. No horns, no shouting, no construction buzz in the background. The sky is wide open out here. Too open, maybe. No buildings boxing you in. Just space stretching out in every direction like it doesn’t know when to stop.

It makes me feel exposed. Like I’m being watched. Or maybe judged.

I don’t like it.

A black Mercedes waits on the edge of the airstrip. My driver—older guy, calm face—opens the door without saying a word.

The ride into town takes maybe fifteen minutes. We pass through neighborhoods and storefronts that feel stuck in time. Red bricks, chipped paint, wooden signs swinging from rusted hooks. Some of the windows are taped atthe edges. Some still have Halloween decals peeling off. It’s not fake quaint. It’s just old. Honest in a way New York hasn’t been in a long time.

I scroll through notes on my phone. Timelines. Contractor names. Legal concerns. But my mind’s not really on it. I keep glancing out the window, trying to picture the future version of this place. Luxury trails. Upscale rentals. Seasonal restaurants serving microgreens and craft cocktails. It’s hard to imagine. That’s usually how I know I can pull it off.

We stop outside The Opal. From the street, it looks like it’s been trying to live up to its name for the last decade but never quite made it. Cream-colored siding faded by the sun. A sign that flickers when the wind hits. Supposed to be the nicest hotel in Cody, but I’m not holding my breath.

Inside, the lobby gives it a better shot—polished counters, fake marble floors, gold accents that are doing their best to look like something they’re not. A girl at the front desk looks up from her screen with a polite smile. It looks rehearsed, but at least she’s trying.

“Reservation?” she asks.

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