Page 163 of Love Me Reckless

I bring our clasped hand to my lips and inhale the rich cocoa scent of her skin deep into my senses.

Nothing between us.

Never again.

That afternoon,I drop Kirilee at Grayson’s house, then take the winding drive to the maintenance yard. The route takes me past some of the roads I drove last night. Everything looks different in the daytime, but the memories are there. Sharp enough to cut.

Sheldon’s final words echo through me. All these years, he’s held onto that shame—his willingness to leave me behind in order to save himself. No wonder he was so ready to let me carry the blame for Mom’s death. It meant he didn’t have to.

If only he’d told me. We could have tackled it together.

Because I’m not staying long at McTavish’s office, I don’t bother with the employee lot, and park instead in front of the maintenance building. Crews from the mountain trickle in, the burr of the snow machines rising over the landscape.

I don’t like having to face the guys. By now they for sure know why I didn’t show up today, and most also probably know why I hijacked one of the maintenance trucks last night.

The sorrow from Sheldon being so suddenly gone from my life sits heavy inside me as I step from the truck and walk to the door.

McTavish is in his office, and he’s not alone.

“Sawyer, come in,” McTavish says, beckoning to me.

The man sitting across from him stands. He’s wearing faded Levi’s, a pair of worn lace-up boots, and a forest green wool shirt. A thick, dark beard frames his lean face, and he sizes me up with his intelligent brown eyes.

He extends his hand. “Jonah Burgess.”

I shake. “Sawyer Reed.”

The man gives me a warm smile, like I’ve said something funny. “Yeah, I know.”

I eye McTavish, but he’s focused on our guest.

“I wanted to personally thank you,” Mr. Burgess says.

“Uh, okay.”

Mr. Burgess shoves his hands in his pockets. “Getting us off Glory Basin chair yesterday. I hear it was your quick thinking that made it happen.”

“Oh.” Restarting that diesel motor yesterday might have been a century ago. “Just doing my job, sir.”

The man’s face turns serious. “My daughter wanted to be here too but she’s not getting discharged just yet.”

Shit, this is the dad. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”

“Without your dedication and quick instincts, I’m not sure she would have made it.”

“We would have gotten her off the mountain. Our ski patrollers are top notch.”

Mr. Burgess nods, his lips pressed into a grimace. “Thank you. This place means a lot to us. To my family.” He offers his hand again, and I shake it.

“You’re welcome.”

The man nods at McTavish, then slips through the door.

I’m about to follow him when McTavish slides an envelope across the table.

I eye it, then lock eyes with him. “What’s going on?”

“That test result yesterday was rubbish,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “I tracked down the results myself. None of the five who were tested failed.”

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