“You arenotat fault here, Zeke,” I say adamantly. “Not even a little. Nor are you weak. Look what you’ve just survived! I understand not wanting to go through a hearing or a trial, but at least sign this paper. It’s not nearly enough for what he deserves, but at least it’s something.”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh of defeat. “But when he finds out about this, he’ll want to kill me.”
“I’m pretty sure it’smehe’ll be after,” I say in an effort to reassure Zeke of his safety, but the look on his face tells me I missed the mark. “He won’t get to either one of us. I promise.”
I’ll spend every dollar I have to ensure it.
“How can you guarantee that?” Zeke asks.
“Because I have resources,” I say simply.
“Ohmygod,” he groans. “You work for the mafia or something, don’t you?”
This makes me bark out a laugh because my family would be theworstmafia family in the history of organized crime.Okay, maybe not Eloise, but Luke and I for sure.
“Definitely not,” I tell him, taking the signed form from him.
Slipping back out the door, I give Officer Michaels the piece of paper and my heartfelt thanks, and then he’s gone, and I’m by Zeke’s side once more.
“You must be exhausted,” I say, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead.
“I am. But I need my questions answered more than I need sleep.”
I take a seat and drop the bedrail so nothing separates us. I want to touch him just so I know he’s okay. I want to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers to know he’s alive, but given everything he’s gone through, I keep my hands to myself while I answer his questions, letting him decide if my touch is something he wants after learning the magnitude of my lie.
“What do you want to know?” I finally ask.
“Why does your last name sound familiar? What did you mean when you said, ‘it’s already been taken care of’? What offer was the doctor talking about? And whatresources?” he asks as his eyelids begin drooping. The hour he’s been awake has been more taxing to him than he’s letting on, and I’m just thankful the pain medicine seems to be working.
“My full name is Christian Talon Devereaux, and my last name sounds familiar because it’s now on several buildings at the ski resort…including Summit.” I pause, trying to gauge his reaction, but the only indication that he knows where this is going is the increased beeping on his heart rate monitor. “My family bought Ricochet last fall.”
Keeping up better than I expected, Zeke says, “Ohmygod. You’re myboss?”
“Sort of. Technically, I’m your boss’s boss’s boss. Victoria’s boss,” I add unnecessarily.
“Why’d you lie?” he asks, making my stomach clench.
“I didn’tlie,” I argue weakly. “I was truly there to learn all the positions at Summit.”
“But not to fill in during sick days and vacations.”
“I would if I needed to,” I reply, trying my hardest to make it sound less manipulative.
Zeke pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve had enough half-truths to last me a lifetime, Talon.”
The fact that he’s still calling me Talon, and not Christian, is giving me hope that maybe this is salvageable.
“The whole truth is that my family owns properties all over the world,” I start. “Whenever we take over a new property, it’s always tough because people tend not to be in favor of change. I thought this time I could learn more about the needs of the employees and the business if no one knew who I really was. I figured they’d talk more freely and give me a glimpse of the ins and outs that I wouldn’t get otherwise. I’m sorry it was deceitful, but I swear my intentions were good.”
With drowsy blinks, Zeke’s words start to slur as he says, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, you know.”
I stay silent, feeling like absolute shit.
“I want to make it better,” I finally manage to say. “That’s all I’ve wanted since I met you…to make your day better.”
“Why me?” It comes out as an exhale as his eyes stay closed and his breathing evens out, the pain medicine pulling him under once again.
