Fresh Tracks (On the Slopes #3)

Prologue

TJ

I cast my line out into the rippling current of the river, breathing in the fresh air of the Cascade Mountains in Central Oregon.

At the crack of dawn, I’m the only one out here, wading in the shallow waters to fly fish behind my house.

It’s practically perfect. With a gentle breeze, birds chirping, the sound of the water, and the sun rising in the distance, I couldn’t think of another place I’d rather be right now.

That’s why I had Clay design this house and why I built it right here on the banks of the river.

The city of Bend is the best place to be in May.

The mountain nearby is still open for spring skiing, the hiking trails below the mountain are starting to open, and the warm spring air is helping to feed the Deschutes River with fresh snow melt.

Out of all my homes, only the one in Wyoming competes with this place as my favorite.

I like to spend as much time here and in Wyoming as possible. I love being by the mountains and river, especially this time of year. Everything should be great right now, except there’s just something missing.

I shake my head. “What am I doing with my life?” I mutter to myself for no one to hear.

I give my fishing rod a quick flip of my wrist and give the line some action.

After leaving my band, Teal Tigers, almost ten years ago at the peak of our fame, the past decade has flown by in a blur and this is where I’ve ended up.

Alone. Ticking away my time fishing, running a real estate empire that I never wanted in the first place, and getting overly involved in the restaurants I backed with my friends.

Even this weekend, I was supposed to be in Seattle to meet with my former band manager, but I cancelled at the last minute.

I guess there are some perks to being known as the flakey rockstar, even all these years later.

I don’t know what I want to do anymore and don’t feel like rehashing those details or opening up that part of my life again — at least not yet.

So that’s how I ended up here, sharing my house with the Chapman family and their friends this weekend. When I originally offered to let them stay, I was planning to be in Seattle and they’d have the place to themselves. Instead, I’m out here because my giant house suddenly feels too crowded.

Getting out here is my normal morning routine, but it feels like even more of an escape this morning while my house is crawling with people.

My eyes drift over the river, trying to enjoy the calm, peaceful setting when a snapping sound grabs my attention. I look over my shoulder along the banks of the river but see nothing. It’s probably just an animal rustling around in the brush, snapping a twig.

I focus again on the water in front of me, with the sunrise warming my back. There’s a light mist from the rapids at the bend in the river and a small, beautiful rainbow forms, arching just over the water.