“He didn’t want to come. So, I don’t know.”
He killed the engine and turned toward me. “Jamie, if you need help—with anything—you just ask me. Okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice to hold steady.
“No matter what happens between us, I’ll do what I can for you.” He held my gaze. “I mean it. We’re friends first. I don’t have many. The ones I do, I take care of. That’s not conditional.”
There it was again. That unwavering thing in him.
I offered him a small, grateful smile, and slipped out of the truck before I did something reckless like reach for him and never let go.
I’d almost made it through the front doors to the lobby when Eric caught up beside me.
“Don’t disappear on me yet.”
“I’m not disappearing. I’m collapsing.”
He huffed a faint laugh. “The bar’s open, and my cousin Zane should be on shift.”
“Your cousin works here?”
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “Yeah. My family owns the place.”
Owns.
The word snagged in my head.
The entire sprawling resort with its polished stone floors, sweeping lake views, and staff who moved like a synchronized orchestra? His family owned all of this?
I slowed without meaning to, suddenly hyperaware of the marble beneath my feet, the crystal chandelier overhead, the understated luxury I’d been too distracted to fully notice before.
He’d said it casually, like mentioning the weather. Like it wasn’t a monumental detail that reframed everything I thought I knew about him.
But I was too exhausted to process the implications. Too emotionally scraped raw to follow the thread of what that meant about money, about security, about the vast chasm between the world he came from and the one I’d clawed my way through.
“I am not up for meeting any more of your family right now.” Although a drink didn’t sound terrible.
“It’s not meeting family. It’s one drink at the bar with me. And a man who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. You’ll be entertained. I promise.”
“Fine. One drink.”
The bar sat just off the lobby, all warm lighting and low music. Everything here probably cost more than my monthly rent, but Eric moved through it like he belonged. Because he did. Hell, this place was probably like a second home to him.
Zane spotted Eric immediately and leaned across the polished counter like he’d been waiting for a cue.
“Well, hello there,” he drawled when Eric introduced us. “Nice to finally have someone worth looking at. I was tired of this guy’s ugly mug.”
“Careful. She bites.” Eric’s hand slid to the small of my back, possessive and sure.
Zane’s grin widened. “I’m willing to risk it.”
I should have rolled my eyes. Instead, I laughed.
Zane flirted shamelessly while mixing our drinks, inventing outrageous stories about Eric’s teenage disasters—stories that took place right here, where he’d spent childhood summers and family vacations with lake views and room service at his fingertips.
Eric didn’t rise to the bait. He just sat close, one hand warm and steady at my back, occasionally cutting in with a dry correction that only made Zane louder.
For those few minutes, the hospital felt farther away. The guilt softened at the edges. Hunter’s voice in my head quieted to something manageable.
