A Matter of Trust

by Susan May Warren

  “Like, snowboarding down a mountain that just might get you killed?”

  Ella nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You guess so? Do you believe that God honors the truth, Ella? Do you trust him?”

  She stared at her mother, saw the woman who’d fought cancer, and in her remission wanted to climb back in the ring, do something that mattered with her life.

  Oh, how she wanted to be like Marjorie Blair too.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You got any fight left in you?”

  Ella felt a smile nudge through. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Good.” She turned and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a wheelchair. And then you’re getting out of that bed. Senator, it’s time to filibuster.”

  18

  SELENE JESSICA TAGGERT owed the world an explanation, and Brette was going to get it.

  At least that’s what Brette had been saying to herself for hours as she surfed the internet, trying to track down information on Jess Tagg. Apparently, when she went into hiding, she’d deleted anything that could track her down to western Montana.

  Except for a couple mentions in the local paper detailing recent rescue missions—a grizzly attack last summer, and the same youth group rescue Pete Brooks had been on—Jess stayed under the radar.

  No exciting parties, no gala events.

  Apparently, Jess had shed her old persona for this down-home girl dressed in flannel.

  It made Brette wonder, for a long moment, if she truly had the right person. But Ty had confirmed it. Not only in his guilty expression but in his matter-of-fact explanation to Pete.

  Pete Brooks had looked more upset by the fact that she’d kept the truth from him than by her crimes.

  What was wrong with these people? Clearly they’d never lost everything due to the actions of others. Didn’t know what it felt like to see their world crumble.

  Brette set her phone on the bed table. She’d tried to take notes, but she really needed her computer.

  No, what she needed was to get out of this hospital bed. But her doctor hadn’t yet released her, had mentioned a couple postoperative tests he wanted to run.

  She couldn’t imagine the bill, but certainly the charity Ty had lined up wouldn’t pay for . . .

  Oh, wait. How gullible was she that she’d believed him? It didn’t take much to do the math. If Ty was friends with Selene, back when she was wealthy, then no doubt he also had a few million bucks to his name.

  And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? Rich and manipulative. What else did she expect?

  Which only meant she’d have to figure out a way to pay him back.

  She stared outside at the falling snow. Please, let the PEAK team have found Ella and Gage. Although, with her ordering Ty from her room, probably he wouldn’t be hightailing it back to update her.

  She picked up her phone and dialed Ella’s cell, but it went to voicemail. She set her phone on the bed table, next to the pretty flowers Pete had brought her. He’d seemed so humble, even chagrined, when he brought them in. “If you want to ask about the stuff that happened last summer, I’ll tell you. It’s just not that exciting.”

  No. Not compared to the world discovering the location and story of Selene Taggert.

  She doesn’t just get to start over.

  The words refused to leave her, just thrumming in her head.

  She turned on the television and came upon a local news feed. What looked like the hospital, with a cute reporter with long brown hair delivering an update on a snowboarder who’d been lost on the mountain.

  When Oliver’s picture flashed on the screen, Brette pumped up the volume.

  “He was found early last night by local ski patrol Gage Watson, who, with the PEAK Rescue team, carried him out of Heaven’s Peak this morning, along with his sister, Ella Blair. Ella happens to be a senator with the State of Vermont. I got a chance to catch up with her parents earlier today.”

  The interview flipped to a hurried shot of Marjorie and Mansfield Blair on their way to the hospital, giving a quick statement about gratitude and relief.

  The reporter ended with, “We’re expecting an update on Ella’s and Oliver’s conditions coming up soon.”

  But Brette sat, weakened. They were here, in the hospital. And no, Ty hadn’t bothered to stop by.

  Not that she should expect him to, after she’d screamed at him to get out.

  Still. “Brette, I do care about you.”

  She couldn’t get that out of her head, either. And wouldn’t you know it, her chest hurt, hearing his pleading words. “I promise you—that kiss, for me, meant something and, please, just trust me—”

  She closed her eyes, trying to get his voice out of her brain. She meant her parting words—she couldn’t trust him again.

  But it wouldn’t matter, because she wouldn’t see him again, either.

  She wiped her fingers across her cheek, brushing away the moisture there.

  “Brette, are you okay?”

  She opened her eyes. Froze.

  Blinked.

  Ty Remington stood at the foot of her bed.

  Holding flowers.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. He looked like a man fresh in from the cold, unshaven, wearing his ski jacket and a stocking cap. He pulled it off now, and his dark hair emerged flattened.

  Apology emanated from him in his grim smile, the expression on his face, those beautiful green eyes.

  She folded her hands over her chest. “I’m fine. Just waiting on a few extra tests the doctor ordered before they discharge me. I don’t want to spend any more of your money.”

  His mouth opened, just slightly, and she hated herself a little. What was wrong with her that she’d turned so angry, especially toward the one man who’d been kind to her?

  Who made her fall at least a little in love with him, only to break her heart.

  That was probably what this was about. She was so tired of falling for the wrong men, the ones who didn’t care if they trampled over her.

  She tightened her jaw, refused to take back her words.

  Ty closed his mouth, gave her a tight nod. “I guess it was too much to hope that you wouldn’t find out.” Then he set the flowers on the bedside tray, next to Pete’s.

  Gerbera daisies and miniature pink roses.

  She liked it. In fact, she had never received so many flowers in her life. But she couldn’t look at him.

  He pulled up a chair anyway. “I didn’t actually lie about that charity fund. My family has a number of them, and, well, I just pulled some strings, got a donation . . .”

  She stared out the window at the late afternoon pallor of the day. “That was nice of you. But I’ll pay you back.”

  “It’s a lot of money, Brette. Please don’t.” He was looking at her, and she couldn’t help it. She glanced at him, and his gaze held so much emotion, it caught her breath.

  What other way could it ever be? I’ll never be able to trust you again.

  But oh, she wanted to. In fact, she longed to rewind to the moment, twenty-four hours ago, when he’d leaned over and kissed her.

  Such a sweet, gentle, perfect kiss. He’d made her, however briefly, believe again in heroes and happy endings.

  She drew in a breath. “Why are you here?” And no, she didn’t mean it how it sounded, because she suddenly, desperately didn’t want him to leave.

  “I wanted to tell you that we found Ella and Oliver.”

  Oh. “Thank you.”

  “And I was worried about you.”

  He was? She clenched her jaw.

  “And . . . I wanted to talk to you about Jess.”

  Jess. Of course he did. Brette blinked away the heat in her eyes. “What about Selene?”

  He folded his hands between his knees. “I have a story you could tell, instead of Jess’s.”

  She frowned at him. “Pete already offered—”

  “Not Pete’s story, Brette
. Mine. About the chopper crash. It might not make national news, but . . . it’s a story about a guy who had it all and lost it because of his own stupidity. It’s a story of survival—I hiked fifteen miles through a blizzard on a broken knee while my team searched for five days for us. It even includes a miracle. Something Nat Geo might be interested in. And it’s all yours, if you’re willing to trade it for staying silent about Jess.”

  Brette studied him, the way he offered her a wan, quick smile, the hard swallow that chased his words.

  “Ty . . .”

  “You told me that you liked inspiring stories. That you didn’t do dirt. This story on Jess . . . it’s just going to destroy lives.”

  “She destroyed lives.”

  “Her father was the criminal here, not Jess. And she’s paid for his crimes—”

  “Hardly.”

  He closed his eyes, as if pained, and she felt like a jerk.

  Because she knew a little about how it felt to lose everything, to start over with nothing. If it hadn’t been for Ella in Brette’s life, she would have been sleeping in her old Ford.

  Maybe Ty had been Selene’s Ella.

  And here he was, sacrificing his own privacy, his own pain, to save Jess. Throwing himself like the proverbial sacrificial lamb in front of Brette.

  Now Brette really felt like a jerk.

  And not just a little jealous. What might it be like to have a man care that much, to protect her at the cost of his own privacy, his reputation?

  “Okay, Ty,” she said softly.

  He raised an eyebrow, just a little surprise in his expression. Then he nodded. Exhaled. “Thanks, Brette.” He leaned back, ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not sure where to start. It was last spring, and we got a callout for—”

  “Ty,” she said softly. “I’m not telling your story, either.”

  He stopped talking, just stared at her.

  “I came here looking for a hero. And I found one. That’s enough for me. You can keep your story to yourself.”

  He looked undone, his expression hollow.

  She offered a tiny smile.

  “Brette, I . . . is there any way we could—”

  “We’re back with that update from Mansfield Blair,” the television announced.

  He turned, and she wished she’d turned off the television.

  Any way we could . . . what?

  But Ella’s father, every inch the powerful millionaire, in his dark suit jacket, a white shirt, and pressed dress pants, had Ty’s attention. Mansfield looked freshly shaved, his dark brown hair slicked back, completely composed despite what had to be a desperate thirty-six hours.

  He stood at the front of what looked like the hospital lunchroom, introduced himself, and gave an update on his son. Some sort of brain bleed that, kudos to the PEAK team, had been helped by their quick evacuation.

  Brette had the urge to reach out, take Ty’s hand, give it a squeeze.

  And that’s when things turned sour.

  “Unfortunately, included in this accident was my daughter, Vermont senator Ella Blair. She is resting comfortably after surgery to repair her broken leg, an injury that would have never occurred if PEAK team member Gage Watson hadn’t taken an unskilled, untrained snowboarder along on his search and rescue mission. This is the same Gage Watson who, by the way, was responsible for the death of a snowboarder three years ago on Outlaw Mountain, in Canada.”

  Ty looked back at Brette, who had sat up.

  Their attention turned back to the screen as a voice lifted off camera.

  “Wait! I have a story to tell!”

  The camera turned and fixed on Ella, dressed in a bathrobe, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, pushed in a wheelchair by her mother, who, as usual, looked like she had stepped out of the boardroom. Or the capitol.

  “Gage Watson is not who you think!”

  Oh no. Because Brette had seen that look before, the same determination that had made Ella park herself in a helicopter, refusing to leave, only three days ago.

  Brette looked at Ty. “I need to go.”

  And he didn’t hesitate, not a pause to question her. He came around the bed and with one movement picked her up, cotton blanket and all.

  And then she was back in his arms, hers around his neck as he carried her down the hall.

  Yes, probably she could find a way to forgive him.

  “Just sit down, Gage,” Jess said. She stood in the back of the snack room, holding the remote control, popping up the volume.

  Pete sat on a vinyl chair and was staring at the television screen. He’d driven Gage and Ty to the hospital and seen the altercation between Gage and Ella’s father.

  Probably, Pete’s presence was the reason Gage didn’t lose it, put the man down in his fancy suit, and fight his way into Ella’s room.

  No, Pete’s hand on his arm, his low counsel to wait until Ella asked for him, had prevailed.

  Yes, she would ask for him, and everything would be fine.

  Surely.

  So Gage had followed Pete to the snack room to grab some quick grub. But not before Pete made him stop by the ER to have a doc take a look at his strained ankles.

  Just swollen, no significant injury. And frankly, he felt fine.

  Nearly invincible.

  He still couldn’t believe they’d lived through another avalanche.

  And this time, he hadn’t freaked out, hadn’t been pulled out broken. This time, with Ella in his arms, he’d held together.

  Because accidents did happen, even when he tried to cut the right line. Or tried to follow others.

  More, without the accident, he’d still be caught in the limelight, staring at poster-sized images of himself, believing his own press.

  Creating a version of Gage Watson he didn’t want to be. And that was what Ella gave to him—then, and now. She saw through the veneer to the man he wanted to be.

  The man he’d become when he walked through the rubble of his career to the other side.

  A man who no longer chased approval.

  Gage much preferred the man he’d become to the man he almost was.

  About that time, Jess had walked into the room. “You gotta see this.” She reached for the remote control to the flat screen attached to the wall. Turned on the television and clicked to the right channel.

  Ella’s father, standing at a podium just down the hall. Talking about the rescue.

  “This is the same Gage Watson who, by the way, was responsible for the death of a snowboarder three years ago on Outlaw Mountain, in Canada.”

  Gage got up, despite Jess’s words.

  “Bro, sit down,” Pete added. “You’re just going to make it worse.”

  That was rich coming from the guy most likely to do something rash.

  But then, “I have a story to tell!”

  The camera panned and there she was. Ella, her foot in a cast, dressed in a bathrobe, and looking so darned beautiful he couldn’t move.

  Until her next words. “Gage Watson is not who you think!”

  No, no. He hit his feet.

  “Gage!”

  “She’s going to do something stupid!”

  Pete too had stood up and now grabbed Gage’s arm. “Dude.”

  Gage rounded on him. “She has a secret—one that will exonerate me but gets her in big trouble and—”

  “What you don’t know about Gage is that he’s a hero. I demanded that he take me on that mountain, and he practically begged me not to go.” Ella’s sweet voice cut in and silenced Gage. He stared at the television, his heart caught in his ribs.

  “But I’m a good snowboarder, and not only did I trust him but he trusted me. He let me believe in myself to do something I would normally be terrified to do. And because of that, I discovered I am stronger than I think. Braver than I think. And that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone but myself.”

  Gage couldn’t move. Pete’s hand dropped from his arm.

  “But here’s the biggest part. I w
ould have never made it down that mountain if it weren’t for Gage. He’s the best freerider in the world, and he didn’t deserve what happened to him three years ago.”

  Gage left the room.

  She was going to destroy everything she had worked for, and, well . . . he didn’t need exoneration. He already knew who he was. More, he’d somehow forgiven himself on that mountain too. And maybe that was the reason God sent him up there—to take a good look at himself, at the raw, brutal facts, and remind him that whatever line he cut behind him, grace always lay before him. A pristine, white, unblemished future.

  And he wanted to share it with Ella.

  He didn’t slow as he banged through the double doors to the hospital press room. “Ella, stop!”

  He wouldn’t exactly call the room packed—just a handful of local stations on hand, but one of them represented the local Fox channel, which would surely make the national feed if Ella were to incriminate herself.

  “Stop talking.”

  She looked over at Gage, her eyes wide, and every camera turned his direction.

  “Please, it’s done, and I don’t care about the past—just . . . please, leave it.”

  “As I was saying,” she said, smiling sweetly at him, “my brother has trained for six months to ski Gage Watson’s epic run, and with Gage’s thorough explanation of each section, my brother navigated down much of the course without incident. He fell taking care of his friend, Bradley, who is recovering just down the hall, having been evacuated off the mountain by PEAK Rescue. So, as you can see, without Gage Watson, we’d all be stuck on Heaven’s Peak. He’s the best snowboarder I know, past, present, and future.”

  Gage stilled, caught for a second in Ella’s smile. She hadn’t destroyed herself but had put him right back in the center of the limelight.

  The cameras turned and began to flash.

  But he ignored them and walked right past the media to crouch in front of Ella’s chair.

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “The best man I know.”

  Then, in front of the world, she leaned down and kissed him.

  And to the flash of cameras, he kissed her back.

  Ty wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here, standing just outside the rim of press, holding a woman in his arms while watching his buddy Gage kiss the woman he’d spent three years pining for.