Page 14 of Black Ice
He tapped his boot against the floorboard, knocking off the snow. “Then we shouldn’t be in financial duress.”
Logically he was right. Equipment aged out, reservations cancelled, life happened. Her mom died and apparently so had his interest in living. The following season, her last year of college, he’d all but closed Cottonwood Adventures. It didn’t help that they’d been divided on how to recover from those slumps.
She gripped the steering wheel, wishing she could shake some common sense into him. He could retire and let her handle things. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
“Y’know,” he said, not moving. “I expected that Jameson boy to come back. Customers liked him. He could’ve sorted us out.”
Any gentleness she’d felt toward her father evaporated. The car turned frigid, despite the heater blowing on high. “Wyatt was a good employee.” It was the nicest, most neutral reply she could give. “And a good friend.”
Wyatt had been her friend long before he’d become her boyfriend. Through the years, he’d earned her parents’ trust and affection with his quick grin, wry sense of humor, and his willingness to help out. Dale and Tess generously opened their home and hearts and filled the role of warm, loving parents when his own family fractured. When he needed a job, her dad gave him one and eventually he knew the ins and outs of Cottonwood as well as she did.
Then he’d left.
“He was like a son,” Dale said, fidgeting.
He’d never been like a brother in her mind. “You’re cold, Dad. Go on inside.”
“Evelyn, he’s the only investor I trust. If Wyatt came back and agreed with your approach, I could back the plan.”
Her patience snapped like a dried twig. “But your own daughter isn’t good enough?” She’d regret the words tomorrow or whenever she faced him again. “Wyatt left, Dad. I stayed.I’m here. My blood and sweat and tears and money are invested, one hundred percent.” She clamped her mouth shut before she blurted out that Wyatt was currently in town.
If her dad learned Wyatt was at the casino, gambling, he’d likely go and drag the boy out by the collar. Man. Wyatt barely resembled the boy he’d been at eighteen.
Why did she stay? She’d tried time and again to bring her father around to her way of thinking and this was just proof that he was locked in on an outdated vision for Cottonwood and the future. He wouldn’t budge.
She could sympathize, to a point. When her hope-filled plans had been usurped by the facts, she’d adapted. Maybe her dad was just incapable of more adaptations. A bitter laugh erupted at the absurd unfairness of it all. Slamming open the car door, she ignored the heavy snow to come around and help her dad into the house.
In the foyer, he leaned the gun against the small table by the door. “Evie, you’re my baby girl. I wanted more for you than this burden.”
“I appreciate that, Dad. Truly. Maybe it’s time you gave some thought to what I want. Lock up behind me and get some rest.”
Despite her churning frustration and temper, she leaned in, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she walked out and closed the door between them, she realized she needed time to think and rest as well.
Staying at the cottage, though convenient, was out of the question. Too close to all the pressure and burdens, to use her dad’s term. She needed some distance from the mess around here, some space to figure out her next step with her father and her business goals.
Pulling out her phone she called the casino and arranged for a room. After that, passing the barn, she called the sheriff’s office and left a message requesting any information or updates on the break-in attempt.
In the short time she’d been off the roads, it looked as if two inches of snow had fallen. Grateful for the chains, she made it back to the casino and found a spot in the employee parking lot. As she walked in, the world seemed hushed, even the windhad gone quiet. It was just her and the snowflakes until she was inside.
The hum of energy was lower at this hour, but still present. She went to the breakroom and picked up her overnight bag before heading to the hotel area and checking in. Even when they were officially at capacity, the hotel had a few basic rooms available for emergencies like this.
Once inside, she locked the door and shrugged off her coat and boots, leaving both to drip-dry in the bathroom. She stripped off her uniform tie and vest, hanging them up on a hanger and dropped to the edge of the bed to count her tips. When the amount was logged into the app she used to track the family and business budget, she tucked the cash into a safe pocket in her purse.
She was chilled inside and out from the weather and tumultuous conversations with Wyatt and her dad. Changing into the flannel pants and thermal top she’d packed, she piled her hair on top of her head and prepared for bed.
Under the covers with the lights out, sleep proved elusive. Punching the pillow into shape she curled onto her side, blaming Wyatt for keeping her up. Thinking about him gave the whole bizarre encounter at the table and afterward too much power. He’d gone and done and lived. She might have only wandered off to college, but her accomplishments weren’tless thanhis.
Flopping to her back, she stretched her feet under the covers and forced her mind to other topics. How much longer could she keep things going without an investor? Yeah, that wasn’t going to help her sleep either. Outside, the wind rose on a howl and snowflakes pelted the window. It was a fitting echo for the way she felt pushed and shoved into feelings she’d thought were long gone.
Giving in, she reached for her phone on the nightstand and opened her reading app. Her best hope to silence the turmoilwas to lose herself in the plight of the characters in the mystery novel she’d picked up a few days ago.
4
On the dresser, one of Wyatt’s phones started ringing. He rolled over and checked the time. He’d been in the military long enough to know nothing good happened before five a.m. With a curse, he hauled himself up and out of bed to answer.
“Jameson,” he said, recognizing Agent Pickering’s number.
“Open your door in five minutes. I don’t want to have to knock.”
