Chapter 5 Presley #2
A pit formed in my stomach as I considered what would happen if he thought these things.
And even if he didn’t, I’d been so hurt by men I’d dated in the past—men who barely knew me at all, but didn’t hold back their harsh judgments of me because they felt threatened or put off by me.
It changed the mechanics of how I acted around people.
I no longer felt the freedom to be myself.
As I made each turn, I considered in my head what God thought of this fear. I was a person with so much love to give. Why was I hiding behind past hurts and judgments? I always treated people with respect and kindness. Why didn’t I instead lead with this love and God’s grace?
Starting today—no, right that moment—I was no longer going to tiptoe around people in my life in fear that they might not like who I was. Ford included.
Reaching the bottom of the slopes, I kicked off my skis when I ran out of skiable terrain and put them over my shoulder.
My clunky ski boots had me walking robotically on the paved sidewalks that I realized now were heated.
This was an expensive place, Sage Mountain.
A lot of development had happened here just in the last few years since the private airport was put in.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind: Could I ever afford to live in a place like this?
Excitement rushed through my veins as I contemplated it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Denver, but my workload was crushing my soul, and I didn’t exactly have a place that I could just ski out of when winter called.
I was imagining what mountain biking was like here in the summer, as I’d heard they converted the ski runs into trails for bikes when I made it back to the chalet. Ford’s chalet.
Out of respect, I gave the door a gentle knock before entering the keypad. For all I knew, he could have been walking around without a shirt on and not expecting me. My cheeks went hot at the thought of it. Pull yourself together, Presley!
“Hello, Presley,” Ford called out to me, as I entered the chalet. He was fully dressed, thankfully, but his position on the couch with Priscilla on his lap was still bringing all the feels. The self-talk wasn’t enough. I needed prayer, and I needed it as soon as possible.
“Hey,” I replied back, delayed. “How are you?” I sat on the bench of his entry way mud room and began unbuckling my ski boots.
“I’m tired,” he said, with not a spark to be heard in his voice. He looked exhausted. Priscilla, on the other hand, looked absolutely full of it.
“I better take her out really quick,” I said, as I took my first steps out of my ski boots. If my feet could scream from relief, they would. It felt so good to be out of them.
“She already went out. I got here about twenty minutes ago and took her out. On her leash. I couldn’t figure out the boots, though.
” He looked at me for approval. I nodded, considering her paws must be absolutely frozen.
They could get blistered from the cold—split and hurt.
I hurled towards her, hesitating. But she looked fine.
She was wagging her tail, happy to see me, though she wasn’t moving.
Priscilla wanted to be with Ford. It took everything I had, but I patted her on the head and stepped back.
“Thank you for taking her out, Ford,” I smiled, releasing my breath.
I remembered the promise I had just made myself not long ago on the slopes about being my true self that God created.
So, here we go. “What’s for dinner?” Ford had a confused look on his face for a moment, surprised by my question.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. What would you like?” I laughed at his response.
“I’m just teasing. I have all the food I need, and I’m more than happy to prepare something for the both of us again. I really enjoy cooking for others,” I said. He smiled, quite possibly for the first time since I’d known him.
“Okay,” he said, the words softly leaving his mouth.
I hung up my ski jacket on his coat rack and walked to the kitchen, then analyzed what I could put together for dinner for two. If I used what I brought, and some tortillas from his pantry and cheese from his fridge, I could just about make chicken enchiladas.
“Ford?” I hollered, my voice carrying across the chalet to him in the living room.
The open concept chalet didn’t really warrant my hollering like that, but I felt excited to be sharing a meal with someone and like Priscilla, I just felt happy.
Full of it. And I felt freedom from worrying about how I was coming off while I led in what the Holy Spirit had empowered me with: an abundance of love.
Thank you, Lord. After a moment, he didn’t answer.
I walked around the wall of the kitchen and saw that he had dozed off on the couch with Priscilla in his lap.
She was looking at me with a look as if to say, “This one is mine.” I smiled and shook my head.
Priscilla had always been a silly little dog.
As I shredded the cheese for the enchiladas, I remembered how she acted towards my dad when they met.
She started twirling like a ballerina. She’s always liked men, which a friend told me was a great thing because some dogs are afraid of men.
Ford was no different. Priscilla took an instant liking to him, and it was adorable.
Hopefully when we get back into our chalet, she wouldn’t miss him and start acting out.
Wrapping the shredded chicken into the tortillas with some red sauce and cheese, the oven preheated.
Out of the corner of my eye, in the quickly dimming light of the outside, fat snowflakes started to fall again.
The cold air was starting to frost around the windows.
With my phone being off these last few days, I had felt freer than I had in years, but I was starting to wonder what was happening in the outside world.
Was the highway still shut down? Was there more snow on the way?
As the enchiladas baked, I decided to dig through my bag for that pesky cell phone charger and reboot my phone for a few minutes to see what was happening.
For all I knew, someone had been trying to get a hold of me.
Likely, they had, but I was content being disconnected for the time being.
I made a plan as I found my charger, that I wouldn’t check my email.
When I plugged my phone in, I decided I also wouldn’t check my voicemail.
I’d skim my texts and send my mom one that I was here and having a great time.
Then, I’d check the weather and power off again.
Once it came back on, it sounded like a Triple 7’s machine in Las Vegas with its dinging.
Be strong, Presley. I blurred my eyes, pulling the phone out of focus as I tried to put on blinders to anything work related.
There was a slew of texts from my assistant, Jenny, and the few words I skimmed while clearing the notifications said things like, “launch a success,” and “hope you are having fun.” I was having fun.
And despite my not wanting to see the texts, seeing them brought a freeing feeling to my body.
I sent my mom a text about the beautiful location I was enjoying this week and checked the weather forecast. My jaw dropped.
“Weather forecasters say this storm is surpassing the totals they initially thought possible. Expect another 12–18 inches tonight, with more on the way. Looks like the 2026 Winter Games this weekend will be one for the books.”
I looked out of my bedroom at Ford on the couch with his eyes still closed. He was completely still, and it looked like Priscilla had fallen asleep now, too. I hated to wake him, but this news was kind of important. Right?
“Ford,” I whispered, trying to respectfully wake him. I put my hand on his shoulder to gently nudge him, and I was very intrigued at how muscular it felt. He opened his eyes slowly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep on you.” Ford rubbed his beautiful light green eyes. “I went really hard today.”
“That’s okay, and I’m so sorry to wake you, but I finally got my phone on and, well, look at this,” I said, handing him the phone so he could read it for himself. A smile crossed his face.
“That’s fantastic,” he said, as my eyes widened in disbelief.
“It is? What if—well, what if the roads don’t open back up and the spectators can’t come?
What if we get snowed in? What if all those things happen AND the power doesn’t come back on, and I’m stuck here, with you?
” I pleaded, pacing as I spoke. My mind was going rampant as I waited for his reply. He just shrugged.
“Things like this can always happen here in the mountains. That’s why I have a generator. Less spectators means less distractions, and the camera crews came a few days ago as they are doing promos, so, the show will go on.”
“And?” I hate that I did it, but I gently stomped my foot at the rest of my unanswered questions.
“And, I own all of the chalets. If you got stuck here for weeks on end, we have nine other options to put you up when someone checks out, which is inevitable that they will.”
“How, when the roads are closed, will someone check out? Where will they go?” My mind was on overdrive. Part of me was spiraling into worry, while the other part was relieved that I had met the man who could at least host me while I was there.
“The private airport is open, as far as I know. I saw a jet leaving this morning. There’s always a way out, Presley.
” Was this a secret metaphor for him wanting me to leave?
I wondered. But, I didn’t want to worry about how badly he wanted to get rid of me right now.
This break was supposed to be relaxing and right now, I was acting crazy because I felt crazy anxious.
I remembered my go to Bible verse about not worrying about anything and let the calm and peace of God wash over me.