Chapter 5
Steph
The sheriff’s family Thanksgiving would’ve been fine. It would’ve been warm and loud and full of people she loved. Each year, Meagan Hepner set out an incredible spread, full of all her favorites.
Steph also knew herself well enough to know that she would spend the entire meal watching Bethany’s hand rest on her stomach and smiling until her face ached, and she’d had enough of that particular exercise at the gear swap.
So, Friendsgiving it was.
Joe Monroe’s condo was warm and cozy. Instead of him making everything from scratch, they had each brought a dish.
Most of it leaned more toward convenience than homemade, but that didn’t matter.
They were good friends, all part of the running club, all single with little or no family nearby.
Being together mattered more than homemade rolls.
Steph told herself that more than once.
“Here you go,” Joe said, handing her a sparkling water.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
Steph enjoyed Joe’s company. A few months earlier, when someone tried to kill her good friend and fellow running club member Brooke Davies, Joe had been instrumental in tracking down the assailant.
Steph had played a small role in it, going with Joe to Sheriff Hepner with the evidence they had uncovered, showing the same person was not only responsible for the attack on Brooke but also for the murder of four others.
During that time, Steph and Joe ended up spending more and more time together.
People started whispering about them being a couple.
They weren’t, though Steph had been open to exploring the possibility.
Joe, however, had stopped calling and took longer to respond to her texts.
They were still friends, but his actions made it clear there wouldn’t be anything more.
The rejection carried a sting, but Steph valued Joe’s friendship too much to make it awkward. Besides, deep down, she knew Joe wasn’t the one either.
The problem was that the one didn’t seem to exist. Not for Steph, anyway.
Accepting it hadn’t been easy, but now she understood.
And she changed her plans to accommodate for this, even giving herself a deadline, marking a big X on next year’s calendar.
March 16, the Monday following The Frozen Divide 100.
“Should be a few more people here shortly,” Joe said, turning back toward the fridge. “Make yourself comfortable. I think I’ll set out the appetizers.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Steph moved from the kitchen to the living room.
“He wrote a check,” said a woman, new to the area and the running club, standing near the bookshelf. “And not a small one. His name’s going to be on everything.”
Steph sipped from her glass.
“He’s doing more than writing a check,” Rachel Newton added. “He’s running the course too. I think— ”
Rachel’s words stopped abruptly when she noticed Steph nearby.
“Oh, hey,” Rachel said. “We were just, um . . . you’ve met Jack Swisher, right?”
“We’ve met,” Steph agreed with a nod and another sip of seltzer.
“That’s right.” Rachel’s smile went wide. “I forgot he saved you from getting run over by that car.”
Rachel had a business just off Grand Avenue and had been out that morning, clearing the sidewalk in front of her hair salon.
Steph and Jocelyn had even chatted with her as they ran past. The near accident became the main topic of conversation at running club that Wednesday night, a meeting Rachel had said she probably would skip since she didn’t like running in the snow.
Funny enough, it turned into one of their best turnouts since summer. Apparently, the running club organizer nearly being run over by a car and then saved by her sworn enemy was enough to draw a crowd.
“Did they ever find the driver?” Rachel asked.
Steph shrugged. “Not that I know of. Nobody’s said anything.”
“You didn’t tell the sheriff? He would’ve made sure— ”
“I never saw a license plate or anything.”
“Hmm. Still . . . ”
“How’s business? Do you have a lot of bookings for people getting ready for Christmas parties?”
Rachel smiled. “Tons. Especially for Jocelyn’s play and the musical.” Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Where is she? I thought she’d be here by now.”
So did I, Steph thought.
“You know Jocelyn. Some days her timing isn’t exactly perfect.” It was the gentlest way she could think of to remind Rachel that her friend had a habit of running late.
As if summoned, the front door opened and Jocelyn called out, “Hello! I’m so sorry I’m late.”
She swept in with that familiar burst of energy. Auburn hair caught the light as she moved through the room, green eyes already scanning for familiar faces. Air kisses and quick greetings followed her from person to person as she made her rounds.
While Jocelyn went around the room, Steph replayed the conversation she’d walked up on in her mind. The Christmas charity run had been her project—not officially, not with her name on anything, but in every way that actually counted. Raising money for Windy Basin Youth mattered to her.
Steph had spent years working behind the scenes at both the December Jingle Run and the Spring Basin Bolt. She lined up sponsors, designed and marked the courses, organized the volunteers, and did whatever else needed doing.
She was on-site at the events, making sure everything went smoothly and Windy Basin Youth received as much funding as possible toward their mission, never once having run the course herself. She was much too busy for that.
Jack Swisher’s new running club and business might bring in money, but he wouldn’t be the one doing the behind-the-scenes work, especially if he planned to participate in the event himself.
“Now that Jocelyn is here, the party can start,” Joe said with a laugh. “Help yourself to appetizers and drinks. We’ll move on to the entrées in about half an hour.”
Jocelyn appeared beside Steph. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself. Busy morning?”
She sighed. “Yes, but no. I just had a few things I wanted to do at the theater before I came and, well, you know how it is.” Jocelyn smiled.
“You lost track of time.”
Jocelyn snickered. “You know me too well. I should set multiple alarms on my watch like you do. Then maybe I’d stop being late for things.”
“You’re never late for the things that are important to you.”
“This was important to me. Spending time with all of you . . . it’s important to me.” The tone Jocelyn used suggested Steph had hit a nerve. And she knew she had. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.
Jocelyn was dedicated to her theater company, to her friends, and to training for her first marathon.
She worked hard to show up on time for those things, but there was always something that caused her a delay, usually exactly what she said happened.
She’d get in the theater and nothing else mattered.
Rachel and her friend were back to talking about Jack Swisher. Several others had joined the group, and the conversation had risen by several decibels. When someone suggested they should invite Jack to join them on their Wednesday night runs, Jocelyn touched Steph’s arm.
“You want some air?”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are.” Jocelyn tilted her head toward the sliding door. “Let’s go outside anyway.”
The patio was cold but not brutal, the sky overhead clear and pricked with stars. The ground was dry—they’d had over a weeklong stretch without fresh snow. Steph leaned against the railing.
“Should’ve grabbed our jackets,” she said, pulling her hooded sweater up over her ears.
“At least it’s a dry cold,” Jocelyn said with a shiver.
“We should go back inside.”
“In a minute.” Jocelyn let out a breath that blew steam. “You’re not being petty, you know. Your feelings are legitimate.”
“I never said I thought I was being petty.”
“True, but I know you.”
Steph exhaled, causing her own steam puff.
“I’ve been giving time and money to that event for six years.
Nobody put my name on anything, and I wasn’t asking them to.
That was fine. That was the right way to do it.
” She paused. “He shows up with a big check and an Olympic pedigree, and everyone acts like he invented the concept of community investment.”
“I know.”
“I’m not jealous of his money.”
“I know that too.”
“I mean, how much of it’s even his money? At least some of it must have come from Liam Dixon, from his family’s money.”
“And I know what you think about them.”
“Right. I mean . . . ” Steph stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Only that I know what you think about the Dixons.”
“You had a tone.”
“No tone.” Jocelyn shook her head.
“You think I don’t like Liam Dixon because Sheriff Hepner doesn’t like him.”
Jocelyn shrugged. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure you have your own opinions.”
Steph tightened her mouth. She did have her own opinions, but Jocelyn wasn’t entirely wrong. That wasn’t the point, though.
“It’s not even about Liam Dixon or Jack Swisher giving money. I want them to give money. The organization needs it.”
“What’s it about then?”
“It’s the— ” Steph stopped and looked out at the stretch of yard beyond the patio as she slowly shook her head.
“He’s building something that could undercut everything I’ve spent years putting together.
And people are excited about it. People I know and like are excited about it, and I can’t even say they’re wrong to be, which is the most irritating part of all of this. ”
Jocelyn was quiet for a moment. That was one of the things Steph had always appreciated about her.
She was sometimes over the top and dramatic, but usually only with her own life.
Where her friends were concerned, she tended to give space instead of rushing in and smoothing things over, instead of trying to fix everything.
“You could talk to him,” Jocelyn said.
“I’ve talked to him plenty. He keeps showing up. I’m beginning to think he’s following me.”
“You’ve seen him again? Since the ski swap?”