Like Fire We Burn (Winter Dreams #2)

Chapter 1

Some Memories Never Leave

Aria

The first thing I see are the Rockies.

It’s always been this way. Every time I’d get out of bed and look out the window. Every time I’d leave the house. The Rockies were there.

And the first thing I think of, here, back home, back in Aspen, is Wyatt.

Wyatt Lopez. The Wyatt who broke my heart.

I could leave it at that, but it’d be a lie. He didn’t just break it—that isn’t remotely comparable with what he really did.

If I were forced to say what happened, I’d have to cover my ears and turn off my head because I’d still be able to hear it. Because whenever I think about it, it happens all over again. And to be honest, I don’t want to think about it, ever, not at all.

And yet, I do. I mean, come on, not to do so would be inhuman.

Wyatt Lopez was everything. And I’m not just saying that because it’s tearing me apart and I miss him, but because that’s how things were.

We were obsessed with each other. Not in some screwed up, toxic way, but hungry for love, both of us, and that, to be honest, is the most beautiful thing in the world.

I mean, of course it is, unconditional love squared; it doesn’t get any better than that.

And that is precisely why it hurt so much, so goddamn much, when he decided to stick his pole into Gwendolyn, as if she were me, as if—oops—it just happened, no big deal, totally normal, just some kind of mix-up.

Memories can be so screwed up when they’re not the good ones.

I took off because I couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t feel, because I cracked under the weight of too many feelings and rage and Wyatt.

And then there was the video. That video of my Wyatt with his broad upper body and his muscular arms in that dark room.

I can see him stumbling and knocking a vase off the nightstand.

I see it exploding on the ground, and then I see him falling somehow or other onto the bed, onto that bed with the reindeer linen and a view of the moon-bathed Aspen Highlands, bright and clear and far too beautiful for the moment.

Then I see her, Gwendolyn, who must be thinking she’s me, lying in that bed and spreading her legs, and then—oops—she ruins my life.

He ruins my life. And then nothing’s left; all I feel is pain and hate and sadness and rage and love.

What a load of shit. Why love, why, why, why?

And now I’m back again. Back to the roots. The doors of Aspen County Airport open. I take a deep breath of ice-cold air and bury my hands into the lined pockets of my parka. Rub my tired eyes. Getting sleep on a red-eye flight is just impossible.

It’s been almost a year since I was last here.

It was just over Christmas, but those two weeks were enough to make me spend the next ten months trying to get Wyatt’s face out of my head.

His features are just far too beautiful, what with that little space between his incisors, those little dimples in his cheeks, and that haircut of his, wild and fuzzy on top, short on the sides, perfect every day, even though something like that’s just not possible.

It didn’t work. His face is there. Right there in front of me. It’s been two years, but he’s there all the time, even though he’s not.

That’s wild.

“Aria!”

I turn away from the imposing dimensions of Snowmass Mountain and look to my right.

William is leaning against his sky-blue Ford pickup.

He pushes off and spreads his arms into a huge hug.

That’s William. Aspen’s administration guy.

Aspen’s nuttiest inhabitant with the biggest heart you could imagine.

And he loves hugs. What he’d really love to do is hug the whole wide world.

He always says this planet’s too lonely.

That the world needs love and those who are ready to give it.

How right he is, I think, before thinking of Wyatt again, Goddamn, when is this going to stop?

I smile. “Hey, Will.” His mustache scratches my cheek as he wraps his arms around me. He smells just like he did before. Antiques and horses.

He lets go and puts my suitcase and bag in the back. “I wanted to come with the carriage.”

“I’d have liked that.”

“I know.” He goes to the passenger-side door and opens it for me. “But I’m afraid the highway would’ve scared the horses.”

“I bet.”

It takes William three tries to get his truck going.

The motor growls to a start, and the radio springs to life with some country song or other.

That’s Aspen for you. Everything seems peaceful.

A massive mountain range and, right in the middle of it, little house upon little house upon little house with people who all know one another.

If this was a film, we’d all be wearing old-school clothes and dancing around our bell tower with country tunes in the background because everything is beautiful, everything is homey (so long as you don’t go any deeper into the sounds of certain folks’ hearts).

We leave the airport and take the highway downtown.

“Your mother’s happy to see you.”

“I’m happy, too.”

Mom’s got rheumatism. Over the last few months it’s gotten worse, but she kept it a secret because she knew that I’d immediately toss everything overboard and come home.

Because that’s how I am, always worried, far too selfless, and full of love, even though Wyatt did his best to destroy everything inside me.

But I’m Aria. I am nice. I am good. That’s why I’m here.

I don’t care about my heart. But I care about my mom.

And, well, to be honest, I’ve spent the last two years hoping someone would call and say they needed me so that I could come back home.

I would never have admitted it to myself on my own.

I would never have been able to say, Hey, Aria, let’s be honest, you don’t even want to be at Brown.

You’d rather be back at home. You want to go on morning hikes and become one with the Aspen Highlands, want to see the footprints of little birds in the snow, and want to watch Wyatt from a distance and imagine how things would be if he had never cheated on you.

What a nice thought. If he’d never cheated on you. Today we’d still be what we used to think we were.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to work at the stables, Aria.” William turns on his blinker and takes the exit. “The job would be perfect for you.”

“Your horses hate me, Will.”

“They don’t hate you. They’re just wary.”

“Last winter Sally tried to bite my arm off.”

“Don’t take it personally. She was really agitated back then.”

“You should stop putting her on a diet all the time. She becomes a danger to the public. Really, that animal is a real T. rex.”

He sighs. “I’m afraid she’s going into menopause.”

“A tragedy. She’s going to trample all of Aspen. I told you back then already. ‘This egg doesn’t look all that good; don’t let it hatch.’”

William laughs. “It’s nice to have you back again, Aria.”

I smile, sink deeper into my fake-fur hoodie, and imagine hearing these words from someone other than William. Imagine hearing them come from a man who, two years ago, placed his mouth upon lips that weren’t mine. An awful thought. Awful. I don’t want to think about it, but I do.

Masochistic, right?

“You can let me out here, Will.”

“Nonsense. You don’t want to lug your suitcase halfway through town.”

“It’s just a couple of minutes on foot.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Halfway through town.”

I roll my eyes but smile. “Then drop my things off for me at home, okay? I’ve missed Aspen. I need it right now.”

“Roger that. But be careful with the T. rex. It could come after you.”

“Gotcha.”

William pulls over and lets me out. My brown Doc Martens sink into a pile of leaves next to the bell tower. I can hardly wait for fall to give way to winter. Aspen is simply magical in the winter.

Making my way through the streets, I can’t help but think about how different Providence is.

A big state capital, everybody anonymous.

No one says hello to anyone. Everyone is just rushing about, their eyes filled with stress and the fear of missing out, of not managing to do something, of going down somehow, anxious about everyone and everything.

Things are different here. Aspen is a tourist hot spot, but it’s small.

Everyone knows one another. I could tell you everything about my neighbor Patricia’s life, with dates and all, and she’s almost ninety.

Things happen, and everyone finds out about them.

Things happen that will never be forgotten.

I stop in front of the corner building with Kate’s Diner written on it.

It’s still early, just before seven. The baby-blue sky is streaked with pink and little cotton candy-like clouds.

The sound of blinds going up in the windows of Woody’s Supermarket fills the windless air.

In Kate’s Diner there’s a line of people on their way to work who’ve stopped in for coffee.

The wind picks up and rustles the leaves before blowing them past me, on the other side of the street, looking in through the windows.

Kate is whirling about behind the counter, her flower-patterned apron wrapped around her waist, hurrying from one coffee machine to the other and placing the coffee cups into the hands of her daughter, who passes them on to their customers.

Gwendolyn. I hesitate to use her nickname, Gwen, because that would mean I like her, and I don’t.

Not anymore. In the past, maybe, yeah, back then she was my bestie who’d laugh when Wyatt and I would stick popcorn in our noses and see who could blow them farther, but not any longer; now everything’s different.

She’s the reason my heart doesn’t work anymore.

She and Wyatt, they broke it. Just like that.

You don’t just go around breaking hearts.

They’re precious, and you don’t destroy precious things.