Where Life Takes You (5 page)

It baffled me. Indirectly, I’d killed his sister, and he wanted to be… friends?

Surprise, the guy doesn’t hate you.

Dan lightened up the atmosphere with his plans for the coming year. Ty was right. The man needed to slow down. Ash joined us after talking to Trish and her friends. A few minutes past midnight, Angie’s little noises came through the baby monitor, and we said goodnight to everyone. Trish and friends were watching movies in the living room. There were a couple of wine bottles on the coffee table, so Dan warned them not to overdo it, and to keep it quiet.

Dan led me toward the small den in his bedroom. Enamored with the place—mainly his room—he made a few notes in his phone to find the architect, as soon as we arrived back home. “This house has everything I wanted. Together we’ll build a few developments around Boston—the suburbs, most likely.”

In addition, he wanted to finance a few vacation homes in the Hamptons, and probably the Keys. With the right partnership, they’d start a construction company.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “You already own a construction company.”

“Woman, what’s wrong with you?” Appalled, he gave me an inquisitive smile. “Commercial development differs so much from residential. Though, you are right. I’ll create an exclusive branch for residential construction. Starting right after I hunt the man down.”

“For real, Daniel?” I smirked. God bless such an energetic man. “Normal grown-up boys would buy new toys, bigger and shinier cars, or get a new girlfriend—not that you’ve ever had one.”

“I have lots of cars.” He faked hurt. “Name the toy, I own it.” The cocky man came back. “And I don’t need a girlfriend. But if you must know, I had one back in college.”

“Uh, juicy! Tell me more.” I pulled my legs to my chest and hugged them tight, placed my chin on top, and fluttered my eyelashes. The story time position, Dan called it. I expected a deep dark secret, the piece I needed to solve his heart puzzle. There had to be another reason—aside from his screwy parents—to the
die lonely
attitude.

“Sorry, but there’s not much to tell. Don’t get too comfortable, or excited.”

Darn, he was right. Lamest story ever. They’d met freshman year. Tessa was cute and easygoing, and he gave it a try. As part of his fresh start, Dan wanted to change the player persona he assumed during his teenage years.

“Having a girlfriend wasn’t everything they said. It didn’t last long. Yes, I enjoyed skipping the no-strings-attached speech. There were a few strings, but it was still only sex. Six painful weeks later, I wanted to drop her boring ass. Worse of all, she discovered I wasn’t a rich boy like Tyler—well, not back then—and tried to dump me, before I dumped her.

“She gave me a life lesson—look out for trophy wife wannabes. No, princess, please don’t give me the pity glare. Don’t mix her, or my past, with my present, or my future relationships. I’m not a cold-hearted SOB who uses women. Nor am I against marriage. It’ll come to me.” Dan’s eyes danced as he angled his face while talking about this future I didn’t know existed. “I’ll have a family, a beautiful wife, and a few adorable children who’ll be smart and lovely like her—even a dog, if she wants.”

I wanted to disagree. Dan’s mother had been an unmarried teenager who’d dropped out of high school and couldn’t handle the pressure of having a family. Worse, her family had disowned her. She’d left him and his father when he was two months old. Five years later, Mr. Brightmore didn’t pick him up after his first day of kindergarten. Only a few close friends were privy to this information. Wikipedia, and other sources, stated that his parents had died when he was born. He became part of the system, but thankfully landed in a good foster home where they cared for him. He was one of the few who didn’t fall through the cracks.

Dan had searched for his parents as soon as he had the means. Randy, the guy who found everything and everyone for him, discovered that Muriel—his mom—had died of an overdose a couple of years after she’d left him. His father lived in New Jersey with his new wife and two teenage sons. Dan paid them to keep their relationship outside the media. Mr. Brightmore hadn’t been happy, since the money went to two trust funds that would pay for his sons’ educations. His wife, however, accepted happily, clearly more aware of the high cost of private schools and colleges.

“Let’s buy a house here in Telluride.” He suddenly broke our conversation about his past. “Can you imagine spending winters here?”

Nights like these were always special, and I cherished and treasured them when they happened. We talked all night until neither one of us could keep our eyes open.

It wasn’t until eight the next morning that I realized we’d both slept in his bed. “You should’ve woken me up.” My groggy voice came out all wrong. I didn’t want to move.

“We were exhausted, and it was easier to move us to my bed than carry you all the way to your room.” He hid his nose in my hair and hugged me tight. “You’re like a teddy bear. Now I get why Matt goes all possessive with his stuffed animals.” He grinned at me. “Talking about possessive… pack a bag. You and I are leaving for Aspen after breakfast. Love the best friend, but can’t handle his in-laws right now.”

I happily jumped off the bed and ran to my room. Best news ever! I wouldn’t have to deal with Trish.

After my bath, I dressed in a pair of yoga pants, a top, and a sweatshirt. I packed a small bag with three days’ worth of clothes, and I was ready. Before heading downstairs to get some food, I looked for my journal. The one I’d neglected since arriving in Colorado.

My mind went back a few hours in time, to when Lisa and Trish had become one and the same. Procrastination wouldn’t take over today. I sat and wrote a small letter.

* * * * *

Dear Lisa
,

Tyler’s the opposite of you―the antithesis of evil. We celebrated Christmas as a family a couple of days ago.

The downside of our family reunion is Trish, Ashley’s younger sister. She arrived yesterday, along with two of her minions. We’ve never liked e
ach other. It was hate at first sight—like when we met, remember? The woman is a copy of you. Selfish, heartless, insecure, and beautiful, but only from the outside.

The huge difference lies in the fact that she isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict. How do I know? I learned the signs from you. Sadly, not everyone around you cared enough to spot them and save you from yourself. When did everything start?

It shouldn’t matter. You meant nothing to me. What hurt was Ian’s involvement. He was so healthy, and he had so much to look forward to. His career as a hockey player started when he was thirteen. Ian became the first freshman captain in history. We had plans, big plans, that included college and a picket fence. He promised me we would be like his mom and dad. After hanging out with you, he killed the dream. He killed my hopes, my own dreams, and maybe my soul. You killed us all.

Even gloomy Dan talks about a future—a family. Things I can’t hope for. Who would care about me? I’m dead inside, and nothing can revive me. I have nothing to give. Ian took it all that night.

How’s the view from down there? I bet Telluride’s beats the hell out of it.

Rebecca Trent

Chapter 6

As promised, after breakfast, Nick—one of the security guards—drove us to Aspen, another ski resort town in Colorado, the ski capital of the country. The promise of a change of scenery didn’t include the warning of a long drive. Four hours of endless icy roads slowing down traffic, bad reception, and terrible internet connection took us to the promise land. I loved the trip, Dan had to pay attention to me and not to his mindless phone.

However, when Pete, the second security guard, opened my door I forced myself to behave instead of kissing the ground. One more curve and I would’ve hurled. Rested, fed, and with renewed energy we headed to the slopes for the ultimate skiing marathon of death. No mercy for my short legs until seven at night when my stomach began to grumble.

The second day in Aspen became a total bust. I blamed Dan—he jinxed it. After skiing next to him the previous day, I needed some alone-slow time. My body couldn’t take another second of Olympic Games training.

“Nothing will go wrong,” I assured him. “You can snowboard wherever you want, be a dare-devil, and have fun. For once, leave the slowpoke behind and do your thing.”

He frowned at me. “I don’t like it,” he said, but gave in.

Dan gave instructions to Nick, who stayed behind with me, in case shit happened—Dan’s words. He turned toward me and lifted my chin. His gaze held mine, then he sighed, and said, “Two hours. After, we’ll shop for pretty stuff. Take note that I think this is bad idea.”

“Duly noted, sir.” With my fingers I pantomimed taking down his instructions, and then blew the imaginary words into his unamused face. “I even archived them. They’re under
the exaggerate-much files
.”

I stuck my tongue out and headed to the lift with Nick, who muttered some nonsense into his hand. Likely, he was talking to Pete through their little secret agent communication device. I made out a couple of words of his rant—babysitting, princess, and bunny among them. I really had to learn to lip read. Anyway, who could blame the guy? The jury agreed with me: his job sucked. But the judge threw out the case, arguing that the pay involved covered boredom.

In any case
, ignore thy ski partner
became my motto for the day.

The view was extraordinary, the weather gorgeous, and I felt like we flew through the blue skies while riding the lift. I officially loved winters in Colorado. The beautiful snow shone against the shiny sun. During winters back home, the sun hid most of the times behind the clouds. Between the wind, and the humidity, it was unbearable.

After heaving myself off the lift, I had started making my way towards the slopes, when something hit me hard from behind. I tried to keep my balance, but seconds later, a cracking noise, followed by a sharp pain in my leg, distracted me. I lost my equilibrium, and next thing I knew, I was rolling downhill. A tree broke my fall, and a heavy object landed on top of me. The thing moved and talked, making it a human: a man who reeked of alcohol and weighed as much as the tree we hit. The subject slurred his words, somewhat hampering proper communication. I pleaded with him to move, but he didn’t budge. My hands were trapped awkwardly between us. My body protested, and the unbearably sharp pain in my leg made me want to cry. My breathing techniques failed, and I began to panic. As my surroundings darkened, he called me sweetheart, and added he couldn’t move. “I’m having fun. You’re such a sight to have under me. Don’t be a tease.”

Those words flooded my mouth with the taste of fear I’d hidden for years. I shut my eyes and fought the memories, but they crept back. Suddenly I was seventeen again, in my old room at my Mom’s house. Ian’s green, bloodshot eyes—harboring lust, hate and anger—scanned my body. His strong arm forced me down against the mattress, and the sound of a zipper coming undone. My body trembled.

“Don’t touch me,” I yelled, but he only laughed. “You’re hurting me! Don’t do this.”

I screamed and cried, but the body pressed against me disappeared.

“Pete, take care of this fucker,” Dan’s angry voice ordered in the distance. “Nick, take her skis off. Where are those paramedics? Don’t move her too much.” The snapping sounds of the ski buckles and the boot straps being undone gave me some sense of security―ridiculous. “Bex, baby, everything is fine now. I’ve got you. Breathe for me, princess. I’m going to take care of you. No one will hurt you.”

His presence calmed me, the deep voice and his gentle strokes assured me I’d be all right. The vivid images playing inside my head—my old room, the monster—disappeared. Now I saw evergreens, white powder, and Dan’s eyes. My body shivered under the snowsuit, though I wasn’t cold. My leg felt funny. Dan carefully removed my helmet and goggles, placed his jacket under my head, and continued to soothe me. I was safe and nothing else mattered.

At some point ski patrol arrived, placed me on a gurney attached to a snowmobile, and moved me down to the base where an ambulance waited for me. The medical team assessed me, and took me to the hospital nearby for x-rays.

“Definitely broken,” the nurse who received me commented.

Dan gave orders, asked questions, and eventually, requested the hospital director, promising a hefty donation if they prioritized my case. My instincts told me that whichever doctor took my case would also get a cut of the loot. Daniel Brightmore always got what he wanted. In this case, to expedite a run of the mill hospital visit.

“Another lucky girl with a rich boyfriend.” a female voice muttered.

Lucky?
Boyfriend?
I hated when people assumed things about my life!

Fortunately for her, I bit my tongue. The guy was my brother. And since when did being injured mean I’d found a four leaf clover?

There’s something wrong with you, lady.

Dan didn’t leave my side, except when they took my leg’s images. Another nurse complained about the cocky rich man and his girlfriend, who, by the way, wasn’t the only patient in the hospital, but the technician inside of the x-ray room quieted her.

They rolled me to a private room, where Dan waited for me, his impeccable persona replaced by a disheveled man. His perfect dark hair was tousled all over his face, which looked pale—almost paper white.

Pete arrived a couple of minutes after I did and gave us the details of my fall, according to Nick. A man was skiing erratically and too fast—he lost control and crashed into me. They believed the guy was drunk.

Really, Sherlock, what were the clues?

The police were holding the guy, and Pete had called in a few favors to keep him there for more than one day.

“It was an accident.” My words surprised everyone, even me. “Please leave the man alone. Don’t ruin—”

“Bex, honey, please let’s not do this,” Dan said, his personal code for not up for discussion. He sat next to me and held my hand, his body perspiring worry and fear. Feelings I had never seen in the composed, cocky ironman before that day. “The doctor will be here soon. How are you feeling? Is your leg hurting much?”

“Leave me alone,” I muttered with disdain, but after he gave me cold eyes, I changed my tune. “Geez, can’t you take a joke from a dying friend?” He kept staring at me, waiting, and I sighed in resignation. “Fine. To answer your questions: like crap. And, yes, my leg hurts. I need a gallon sized bottle of Advil and a kilo of chocolate, pronto!” I clapped my hands as if issuing a royal decree, then smiled to lighten the atmosphere.

He smiled back, and this time it reached his eyes. As promised, the doctor arrived with my x-rays. Each bone seemed to be frowning. The doctor named them fracture one and two. Both were clean breaks, and he assured me I didn’t need surgery.

“I’ll set the bones and put on a cast so everything stays in place. Your leg should heal within eight weeks, with the appropriate care.”

After a series of demanding questions from Dan, he gave us the name of an orthopedic surgeon.

“As I said,” he repeated himself. “There’s no need for surgery, but this doctor can monitor the healing process. He’ll take the cast off around the last week of February, if there are no complications. After the trip, the nurse will administer some pain meds and a prescription to pick up in the pharmacy.”

The doctor set my bones with two or three economical movements, but my skin burned and everything hurt like a mother-fluffer. I squeezed Dan’s hand the whole time. Maybe a little harder than intended.

“I’m fine.” He kissed my cheek when I apologized. “I’d take the pain away if I could.”

I would have graciously let him. While the doctor covered my leg with icky plaster, Dan left my side to make a few calls. He amazed me. The man orchestrated world domination from his cellphone. This time he planned a few modifications within the house rental—for my comfort.

Everything changed a couple of calls later, when he said, “They are there?” Followed by, “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me. I can’t talk here.”

“New plans,” he said to me as he headed out the room. It frustrated me that he left the room to finish his call. He withheld information more times than others. “We’re going home. I’m calling Betsy.”

Betsy, his amazing, lovely assistant had magic hands too. She made things happen faster than Dan, and she certainly would make all the arrangements needed to have us home by that night. I was dreading the flight home, what with the pain, the cast, and my sour mood.

Simmering in my own temper, I didn’t notice a nurse approach me. “I hate needles!” My defense mechanism kicked in with an impulsive scream as soon as I saw the nurse approaching with a syringe.

“Becca, don’t be such a baby.” Dan poked his head into the room. His wicked smile informed me he was enjoying my frustration. “The injection will make the pain go away faster, and the meds will stay in your system longer. I need you comfortable for the almost five hour trip we’re about to endure.”

He ducked out of the room again, leaving me with the sadist and her weapon of choice. In the end it didn’t hurt though, so much drama for nothing. Couldn’t they have done that before setting my bones?

“She might be out for five hours, perhaps eight. When she wakes up, you can give her the Oxycontin I gave you. By Sunday, give her regular ibuprofen or Tylenol if there’s still pain. Call me if you need me,” she told Dan on her way out. Thankfully, her googly eyes didn’t work on him.

Wench!

“Thank you.”

He signed some papers and gave the copies to Pete before he lifted me and placed me gently in an old blue wheelchair—hospital discharge protocol and all that. He wheeled me out, but came to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway. A tall good-looking doctor—where have you been, my McDreamy?—came across us.

“I appreciate everything you did for us.” Dan shook his hand. “As I explained earlier, the director of my non-profit is indisposed,” he played with my hair, “but I’ll expedite the check we agreed on giving you earlier. Regarding my proposition, call the number I gave you and make the necessary arrangements for the trip. I look forward to seeing you. I think we can work together.”

Finally, when we arrived at the car my mouth and brain reconnected—a little. “Did you have to?” My voice came out all wrong. He adjusted my seatbelt and made sure my leg stayed up, as the doctor had instructed. “I counted at least five other people in the waiting room ahead of me when I arrived. How much did you promise to cut the line? And don’t lie, because I’ll sign the check. What kind of side gig did you offer him?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He looked around the car. I hated his
we-don’t-discuss-those-matters-in-public
look. Not that it mattered much. My brain had fogged, and I was having a hard time focusing. “You sound groggy. The medicine must’ve kicked in. Okay, so, before you conk out, here’s the deal. We aren’t driving to Telluride. We’re going to fly from Aspen. Ash and Ty have packed our stuff, and Bryan will fly commercial and take it to Boston. Nate and Betsy are prepping the house as we speak. By the time we arrive home, everything should be in place. The next eight weeks you’ll concentrate on your recovery. Betsy scheduled an appointment with whomever Raj suggested. We won’t use the guy Dr. Charles recommended for your recovery.”

“Whoa! Too much information. Please, have some pity. My brain got taken over by zombies.” My eyelids began to close, and my head tilted to the side. Dan moved it toward his chest, but I could hardly feel him touching me. I drifted in and out of consciousness. “Brain. Not. Connecting. Filters. Shutting. Down. Before I’m out… thanks for taking such good care of me. Next year could we try something less daring, please?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Go to sleep, baby, and don’t thank me. If I’d taken care of you, your leg wouldn’t be broken.”

In my semi-conscious state I was able to process some of Dan’s rants.  Nick was on probation. Dan gave him the third degree, poor guy. Nate had one coming his way, since he’d given the assignments. I wanted to defend poor Nick, but couldn’t activate my mouth. The dense fog didn’t allow it. Being at the receiving end of Dan’s fury had never been fair. How many times did I have to remind him that accidents happened? Wrong place, right time and all that crap played a big part.

“Ty, I adore your wife, but she ruined our vacation, man.”

But she’s nice, Dan. What did Ash do?

“No, I’m not telling Becca.”

“I’ll carry her.” A possessive growl startled me. “Let’s see, Sanders. What do you really want?”