“Bethany, what if you tell everyone that I was so shaken up by the attack that I went home to my mother’s to recover? Could you do that? I just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by leaving like this.”
“Aw, sweetie. You have such a soft heart. Are you really sure about this?”
Gretel gave her a look.
After that, Bethany stopped questioning her. They got to the airport just in time for Gretel to grab the next flight out.
And just like that, the wintry peaks and frozen shoreline of Lost Harbor dropped away and she was back in her usual habitat—in transit from one place to another.
It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t even gotten to see Zander one last time.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You’re a damn hero, Zander Ross.”
Great words to wake up to. Unfortunately, they didn’t come from the pretty lips of Gretel Morrison. They came from Nate Prudhoe, who stood next to his hospital bed with Jason on one side, Petey on the other. Both the boys looked scared shitless.
Good God. They’d nearly lost another “parent.”
He managed a grin and a “shaka” sign; he and Petey had learned it in Hawaii. “Who said you could skip school?”
“Everyone,” said Jason.
“Does it hurt?” asked Petey, eyeing his bandaged middle with fascination.
“Fu—” Nimbly, he turned ‘fuck yes’ into, “For sure.” At least his brain didn’t seem the worse for being shot. “How’s Gretel?”
“She’s good. A bullet grazed her arm and she’s in shock, but it could have been so much worse. She told us how you knocked away the gun. She says you saved her life at least once, maybe twice. Quick thinking, Zander. You did the Marines proud. Like I said, you’re a hero.”
What a relief. His body relaxed bit by bit. “Last thing I remember, I was trying to stop another shot.”
“You did. And then you collapsed on top of her, so you got the last laugh. Gretel managed to get the gun away from the assailant and call for help. Fact is, she probably saved you too.”
“I told her to run, but she didn’t.”
A funny expression came over Nate’s face. “She was very determined to make sure you were okay before she accepted so much as a Band-Aid. Pretty damn gutsy.”
His heart swelled under his casing of bandages. “Where is she? Still being treated?”
“Bethany’s on her way, she’ll know more.”
There was something Nate wasn’t saying. Zander squinted at him, and found his image wavering in and out. “So what’s the damage?”
“The bullet grazed your right lung and did lots of soft tissue damage. The surgeons repaired the wound, but there will be some recovery time. Expect at least a couple of months.”
He nodded stoically. He’d been wounded once in Afghanistan. Recovery always felt like it took forever. He wasn’t looking forward to battling the VA for coverage, either. There was a good chance he’d walk out of this hospital with a hefty bill and no way to make money until he was back on his feet.
“We’ll help,” Jason announced.
Petey gave an exuberant nod of agreement. “I’ll do all the dishes!”
“I’m going to move back in so I can take care of you,” said Jason.
Zander frowned at Jason, touched, but not enough to go along with that. “You will not. You’ll stay right where you are and focus on your skiing. Petey, you’re welcome to do all the dishes you want, but there’s no need. My arms seem to be fine.” He raised them in the air, hiding the wince of pain that caused.
Nate cleared his throat. “Actually, Bethany and I were going to suggest that Petey stay with us until you can drive comfortably. The Noonans offered too, but Earl has to get back to the Slope and Abby still has her hands full.”
Zander cut his gaze to Petey. “What do you think, bud? Want to stay in the Hilltop mansion for a bit?”
“Yeah!” Petey pumped his arm. But then he frowned. “What about Gretel? Can’t she drive the carpool?”
One glance at Nate’s face, and Zander knew that Gretel had left. She’d slipped through the escape hatch and was gone. The incident in the Wicked Brew hadn’t changed her mind. Her saying those words—“I love you”—hadn’t changed anything. Maybe they weren’t even true.
But even though he was still woozy from surgery, he remembered exactly how her face had looked as she said them. They were true. She did love him.
And yet still, she was gone.
He cleared his throat. “Gretel’s … uh…” He couldn’t say it. Maybe the anesthesia was messing him up. Yeah, that had to be it.
Nate stepped into the silence. “Gretel was really shaken up by what happened in the coffee shop. She decided to go to her mother’s to recuperate.”
“Her mother?” Petey scowled. “She doesn’t even live here. She lives in the Lower Forty-eight.”
“Right. That’s where Gretel went.” Nate met Zander’s gaze with a shrug, as if it was a mystery to him too.
“When’s she coming back?” Jason demanded. He looked more upset by this news than Zander would have expected, all things considered.
“I honestly have no idea.” Exhaustion dragged at him like an anchor. He tried to fill his lungs with oxygen, but immediately felt the sutures strain. “But we’re going to be fine, boys. The Ross brothers rule, right?”
“Yeah, but Ross sisters are good too.” Petey folded his arms across his chest.
How was he supposed to deal with this insurrection on top of surgery? Not to mention heartbreak? Right now he couldn’t tell the difference between the pain in his heart and that in his wounded organs. It all blended together into a general sense of misery.
Luckily, Nate stepped in at that point and told the boys that Zander needed to rest. Yeah, he needed rest. He also needed Gretel. But he’d have to learn to live without her, which might be even harder than learning how to breathe again.
The doctors released him a few days later. Soon afterwards, he got a bill from Misty Bay Regional Hospital. He opened it with a sense of dread, but instead of the horrifically high amount he’d been expecting, he discovered that he owed zero.
Maybe the VA had come through without him having to push for it.
He set the bill aside and didn’t think more about it, until he got word from Jason that his expenses for his trip to State had been taken care of.
“By who? The Sterns?”
“No. They said I have a sponsor now. They don’t know who it is either. It’s someone who wants to be anonymous.”
An anonymous sponsor? That sounded odd. He called up Coach Stern and asked if they’d ever encountered an anonymous sponsor before.
“Only if it’s a private citizen. Businesses always want the credit, and usually every sponsor does. But it sometimes happens, if there’s a reason to keep their connection to the athlete confidential.”
“I don’t like it. I want to know who’s behind this. Is there any way to find out?”
“There might be. Let me do some research.”
A few days later Coach Stern called back with a bombshell. “The bank account that was set up to take care of Jason’s expenses can be traced back to the Morrison Development Corporation. I assume that Gretel had something to do with it. Have you asked her?”
Speechless, Zander ended the call and tossed his phone on the kitchen counter. The house was so empty these days, with Gretel and both the boys gone. Susan Leafborn, a physical therapist—he thought of her as the good Susan—came to his house every day. Who was paying for that, come to think of it? He’d assumed it was the VA, but maybe not.
A knock sounded on his front door. If it was the good Susan, he’d ask her who was footing the bill. If it was the bad Susan, well, he was all out of brothers anyway. Not much she could do to hurt him now.
Darius Boone, the fire chief, stood on the front stoop. He was such a big dude that he blocked the entire view of the property. “How ya doing, Zander? I hear your recovery’s going well
.”
“Feels slow, but I can’t complain. What’s up?”
“Can I come in? Got something to discuss with you.”
Zander ushered him inside. He couldn’t imagine what the fire chief could possibly have to discuss with him. Darius Boone was relatively new in town, having assumed the top spot in the mostly volunteer fire department about a year ago.
The fire chief stood in the middle of the living room and surveyed the space. “Nice design. High ceilings, always a plus for me.”
“Thanks. My grandfather started it, and my parents took it from there. There’s still a lot to be done.”
“Isn’t there always.” The big man straddled one of the bar stools. “Thanks for giving me a segue.”
Zander frowned in confusion and propped his elbows on the kitchen island. “This is about my parents?”
“Sort of. I wanted to give you a heads up about something. Ever since I started in the job here, I’ve been going back and forth with Worldwide Insurance, the company that ended up with your parents’ life insurance policy. Apparently it got sold a few times. It’s not uncommon.”
“Yeah, I know the company. They’re assholes. They won’t honor my parents’ policy. But why are they pestering you?”
Darius folded his arms across his wide chest. They’d played hockey together once; the man was a beast on the ice. “Basically, they’ve been trying to say that your parents’ accident was their fault. The fire department was the first agency on the scene. So they took the report that we filed and they’ve been trying to twist what it says. But I have to sign off on it—either me or my predecessor. She wouldn’t, and in fact she gave me a head’s up about this situation when I took over.”
“Jesus. No one ever told me about this.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a sensitive area. As an official agency, we can’t look like we’re colluding with the filer. It could damage your case.”
Zander snorted, noticing as he did so that it didn’t hurt as much as it would have a couple weeks ago. “When I think about all the time I wasted on the phone with them, sending emails. Those fuckers are never going to give me that money, are they?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Recently I got something in the mail from a new company saying they’d bought the policy. Completely different tune. They said all they need is my signature on the report—which is a very accurate report stating the crash was due to weather conditions and not human error—and within days they’ll disburse the funds.”
Zander blinked at the fire chief. With his rugged physique and stubbled jaw, he fit in easily with the men of Lost Harbor. It was easy to forget that he’d moved here from Texas.
“That sounds like a good thing.”
“Yeah. It’s a long time coming. I’ve sent probably fifty emails since I’ve been on this job, trying to get them to do the decent thing and pay up.”
“I guess it worked, huh?”
Darius shook his head. “No, it wasn’t me. It’s this new company. That’s why I wanted to give you a heads up, in case something sketchy is going on. I can’t imagine what, but then, I’m not an insurance agent shark.”
“What’s the company?”
Darius dug into his pocket and pulled out a business-size envelope. He handed it to Zander. The name of the company meant nothing to Zander, but he realized in a flash that it didn’t matter.
Somehow, Gretel was responsible for this. Jason’s sponsorship, his hospital bill, his insurance money. All of it was thanks to Gretel. He just knew it.
Darius slid off the stool, preparing to leave. “I’m sure that money’ll come in handy. I’m happy for you, Zander.”
He didn’t care about the money. He needed to know what the hell was going on here.
“Thanks for doing all that, fighting the insurance company. You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me from a sea slug.”
Darius focused his dark eyes on him. “Not at first. But I learn quick. If you need anything, don’t think twice. I got your back.”
Zander nodded. Actually, there was something. “Can you give me a ride into town? I’m not supposed to drive yet, and I have to find Bethany Morrison.”
If anyone knew what was going on, it was Bethany. If it took playing the wounded hero card to get the truth out of her, that’s what he’d do.
Chapter Thirty-Three
As her “All Better Now” party at the Greenshores Country Club dragged on, Gretel’s smiles were become harder and harder to force. The party was her mother’s idea, of course, but her father and Gemma had stopped by too. Her recovery was just an excuse for the gathering, since she didn’t know most of the people here. They knew each other, though, and had lots to talk about—inside gossip, mergers, acquisitions, and so forth.
The only thing she really had to say, she’d already said. It was “no” when her mother pleaded with her to move back permanently. “No” when her father offered to finagle her an internship at a fashion magazine. “No” to everything that involved staying on the East Coast and taking their money.
Technically, “No, thank you,” since she’d taken care to be polite and firm while she was stating her intentions. Her adult comportment seemed to take them off guard.
Both her parents kept sending her wary glances as she lingered near the stage where a swing band was playing, and an emcee had introduced her earlier. Maybe they were afraid she’d jump onstage and perform. Or maybe they were confused by her lack of interest in the freely flowing champagne.
Her heart might be broken into little bits, but that didn’t mean she was going to slide back into her old ways.
The opposite, actually. She was going to treasure every morsel of pain and growth that she’d gone through since arriving in Lost Harbor. No one could take that away from her. She’d even located an AA meeting in this upscale corner of Connecticut. It had been a lifeline for the past few weeks. She’d recovered from the bullet wound just fine; recovering from Zander was another matter.
The day the signed divorce paperwork had arrived in the mail she’d cried until her tears ran out.
Her eyes misted over as she listened to the band play the Elvis classic, “A Little Less Conversation.” She’d sung that to Zander one night, the first night they’d gotten together, and he’d made that goofy Elvis move. She missed him so much.
A full month later, and she still thought about Zander all the time.
She’d finally explained everything to Bethany. Her big sister had been furious with their father for all his manipulations. But she’d agreed to give her regular reports on how the Ross brothers were doing.
That helped, a tiny bit, but not nearly enough. Missing them felt like flesh being carved out of her body. It felt permanent—as if that hole would never be filled.
Which explained the problem with her disappearing smiles. She tried again, since her mother was looking her way across the crowd of guests in their resort wear. Nope, not happening.
The emcee appeared onstage and tapped the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, a few announcements. First, let’s have a big hand for Aimee, who planned this beautiful event …”
Gretel’s attention faded as he thanked the band, then moved on to some club announcements. Could she leave yet without being rude? How long had she been at this party? At least a week, it felt like. Time dragged here in Greenwich, which was ironic since there were so many people and so many different things to do. Tennis, golf, swimming, brunch, lunch, Pilates, shopping, dinner parties, on and on.
In Lost Harbor, things moved according to the season and the weather. The pace gave her time to soak in the beauty of tiny moments she would have otherwise missed. Snow crystals glittering as they drifted down from a tree branch. A flock of chickadees changing direction in midair. Ice mist suspended over a low spot in the woods.
In Lost Harbor the connections she’d made felt deeper, more real…wait. She snapped back to attention, because it wasn’t just her brain thinking “Lost Harbor.” Someone had said it out loud.
/> The emcee. He was reading something from a piece of paper.
“Direct from Lost Harbor, Alaska, these are today’s Bush Lines,” he was saying. “Zander Ross, along with his two brothers, would like to announce that Gretel Morrison overcame all hurdles and expectations by staying through the worst of the winter. She would have stayed even longer except her generosity and selflessness inspired her to leave. We would also like to say that we don’t want her to leave, and in fact we reject any kind of deal that requires her to leave.”
Gretel’s jaw fell open. A murmur of confusion spread through the crowd of party guests. Zander. Was he here? Where had that paper come from?
She whirled around. Desperate for the sight of the tall, rough, magnificent man who held her heart in the palm of his hands.
And there he was, just inside the French doors that led to the terrace, with Jason and Petey at his side. He was watching for her, eyes alight, his face softened by a slight smile.
She flew across the room, elbowing people out of the way as she went. She was afraid to blink, as if he might disappear back into her fantasies if she did. But no—he was real and solid and warm and wonderful and he didn’t even flinch as he caught her into his arms and squeezed her tight.
“Zander! You’re here! You’re really here! How’s your—oh my God, your lung, are you okay? Can you breath?” Too late, she remembered his wound.
“You’re all the air I need,” he murmured in her ear. “First time I’ve been able to breathe right since you left.”
“I’m sorry, it was for you guys—”
“I know. Bethany told me. I knew you wouldn’t just run away. I should have trusted my gut.”
“I missed you so much! I still can’t believe you’re here.” Still wrapped in his arms, he touched his back, his shoulder blades,
His chest vibrated with his laughter. “Not for long, hopefully. I’m here to bring you home, if you’ll come.” He loosened his grip and she tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “I love you, Gretel. I’m yours, every bit of me, body and soul. I want you back in my arms, in my bed, in my heart. You’re my everything, my sun, my stars, my fire on a cold night. My Northern Lights. Please come home. We need you. I need you.”
Wicked in Winter Page 24
