A Matter of Trust(40)
“I can’t believe this happened. But I’m not surprised. Oliver grew up entitled, was told he could do anything . . . and believed it. That’s what happens when your parents give you everything you want, when you need nothing in life. You go looking for adventure, hoping to fill up the empty places that only hard work and accomplishment can give you. Ever since I’ve known Ella, she’s been worried about Ollie. She didn’t grow up the same way he did.”
“Really, how’s that?”
“Ella and Oliver are immigrants from Serbia. They came over in the early nineties with their parents. The Blairs sponsored them and took them in, gave them jobs. Ella was about eleven and Ollie four when both their parents died in a car crash. The Blairs adopted them, but Ella never forgot how her parents scraped together a life for them. Ollie, however, never really knew them. He can’t remember any parents but Mansfield and Marjorie Blair. They own half of Vermont’s maple syrup production, and Mrs. Blair was a state senator. To say that Ollie and Ella made a giant economic jump is an understatement. But I think that’s why Ella is so grounded. Now Ollie, he grew up getting anything he wanted, but also in the shadow of giants. With such high-performing adopted parents and Ella setting the pace, I guess he decided he had to do something epic. I’m hoping that this experience teaches him that he’s not invincible. That is, if they make it home in one piece.”
She fell silent then, and he heard a low muttered “please.”
But her words had clung to him. “He grew up getting anything he wanted. I’m hoping that this experience teaches him that he’s not invincible.”
Yes, tragedy and mistakes and being in over your head did that to a person.
“So, you’re saying you have a country singer who moonlights as a rescuer, a billionaire cowboy hiding out in Montana after the tragic loss of his family, a snowboarder rewriting his life as a rescuer, and a war hero dedicating her life to saving civilians?”
Ty hadn’t thought about his team in that way, but . . . “Yes.”
“This is definitely the right place for me to hang out.”
He glanced at her. Brette had taken her phone out, was typing. “Who are you texting?”
“A note to my agent, asking what she thinks about a story about a team of heroes.”
Oh. “What kind of journalist are you?”
She finished her note, tucked her phone away. “I write inspirational pieces for Time and Nat Geo online, as well as biographies and other bio-pieces about larger-than-life heroes. Actually, it’s harder than you think to find a true hero. Everyone has secrets, and if you look hard enough, we’re all just hiding behind how we hope people view us.”
How we hope people view us. Yeah, he’d had that persona firmly in place, trying to be a hero, keep up with the rest of the PEAK team.
“You need to meet Pete. He’s our local celebrity. Saved a couple kids from a grizzly last summer and brought home a group of teenagers who went over a cliff in their van.”
Her eyes widened. “Now you’re talking. Where do I meet this Pete?”
He didn’t know why, but the question, the little lilt of curiosity in her voice, had his stomach tightening. “He’ll probably be back at the ranch.”
She was silent for a moment, then turned to him. “And what about Jess? What does she do?”
“She’s an EMT.”
“How long has she been with the team?”
“A couple years, why?”
Brette had taken out her phone again. “I don’t know. There’s just something about her. She looks so familiar, like we’ve met before. It’s just outside my brain, and I’m trying to grab it.”
He swallowed, said nothing.
“But don’t worry. I never forget a face, or name, or details. I just have to place her, and I’ll remember her story. No one hides from me.”
One look at Heaven’s Peak, its white-capped spine cutting through the wispy clouds to soar magnificent and deadly above the mountain scape of the Livingstone Range, told Ella that maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.
Listened to Brette as she followed her into the mountain ski shop, arguing for sanity.
“You can’t go down that mountain—you’ll only end up in pieces, like Ollie.”
No, she wouldn’t. Because she’d skied with Gage before and knew he’d pick a safe route, one that she could ski.
And she’d been a backcountry skier for years—where did Brette think Ollie got his inspiration?
Now, watching the wind lift the top layer of snow from the cornice that capped the mountain, and then following the narrow ridge that wound down toward the bowl, a sheer drop intersected only by steep cliffs and channels of deep powder, Ella had to bite her lip to keep herself from glancing at Gage, letting him see that he might have been right.