Brette nodded. “I promise.”
Ella sank down on the sofa, wearing such a forlorn look that Brette wanted to give her a hug. But Ella knew how to gather herself, knew how to hold her ground, to pop out a speech. Putting on a brave face for the hard stuff was practically her specialty.
“That last night at Outlaw Resort, before the run off Terminator Wall, I knew I had completely fallen for Gage, in three days. He was the perfect gentleman, a great snowboarder, and I loved the way he laughed and listened to me. He wasn’t anything like the cocky snowboarder I thought he’d be—he was genuine and honest and grew up in a Christian home, and frankly, I was ready to give him my heart, right there. And then he kissed me, and . . .” She closed her eyes, pressed her hands to her mouth. “Yeah, there was no going back after I kissed Gage Watson.”
A smile tweaked up her face at that, and as she opened her eyes, Brette could practically see it. The shine of hope, the way she must have looked up at Gage as she danced in his arms.
For a moment, Brette longed to look at a man that way, to trust him, believe in his love.
But that meant she’d probably have to let him close, risk letting him see the real Brette Arnold. Risk letting him hurt her.
Nope. Not again.
“So what happened?” she asked, cutting through Ella’s memories.
“We went back to the table, and he was holding my hand, telling me about his run at Heaven’s Peak, when his friend Ramon came in. He wanted to talk to him. Ramon was his manager at the time, and with the big run coming up—well, I told Gage to talk to him while I went to the ladies’ room. I was sort of freaking out anyway.”
She blew out a breath, looked away. “The bathroom was located across the foyer of the chalet, and I didn’t realize they’d stepped outside the restaurant, or that when I came back, I’d be able to hear them. But I did.”
She met Brette’s eyes. “They were arguing about Dylan McMahon. He had apparently offered Gage a lot of money to take him on the run—and Ramon was pressuring him to take Dylan with him. Gage told Ramon that Dylan wasn’t ready, that he’d just get himself killed. I didn’t hear any more, but I wasn’t worried—Gage had promised me, after all, that he wouldn’t take him. I went back to the table . . . but Gage never showed up. He just left me there. I got home on my own.”
“He just left you?”
“Yeah.” She stared down at her hands. “During the deposition, I found out that Dylan McMahon showed up during the conversation, and he and Gage got into a little altercation outside. Ramon got in the middle and ended up with a bloody nose. Gage said that Dylan swore to go down the mountain by himself if Gage didn’t go with him, and that he had, in fact, already paid the chopper pilot, but no one heard him. And Ramon had actually taken Dylan’s money, so it looked bad for Gage, and . . .”
“So, you didn’t believe him?”
“I didn’t know what to believe. I was so shocked—I watched in horror the next morning when Dylan stepped into that chopper with Gage. He’d promised me. And then, I watched the accident happen on live feed. Dylan, skiing off the trail, over the cliff. Then the avalanche that Dylan triggered crashing over Gage as he chased Dylan down, trying to find him. I just stood there in disbelief.”
“Was Gage hurt?”
“Yeah. He rode the slide, had his beacon on, and they were able to pull him out fast. He broke his shoulder, I think. I’m not sure—they took him to the hospital, and I never got a chance to talk to him. Once Dylan’s family showed up, distraught, and . . . it was a bad time. I went home to Vermont and tried to forget it all.”
She got up, walked over to the counter, and opened the cabinet. Took down a mug. “The next thing I knew, the McMahons were plaintiffs and our law firm was filing a lawsuit and I was assigned to the case. I did disclose that I knew Gage, but because I was just an associate and since the fight between he and Ramon was confirmed by other witnesses, I didn’t have to disqualify myself. So, I didn’t. Nine months later, I faced him in the hearing.”
She didn’t speak as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she turned, her voice thin. “You should have seen him, Brette. He’d lost weight, and he looked completely wiped out. He’d written to Dylan’s parents and even tried to come to the funeral, but Harry and Jane were so angry. I think maybe, if he hadn’t shown up at the graveside, they might have left it alone, but . . .” She took her coffee back to the sofa, cupped her hands around the warmth as she sat down.
She took another sip, but Brette noticed her hand shaking.