Page 21

Rhys

A fter that first evening, Jade and I spent the next three days navigating the move and finding our routines—most of the time with our clothes on. I’ve found myself in back-to-back teleconferences, Mackenzie’s attempt to reconstruct my week in this new format. She’s a godsend, and I sent her a night out—dinner at her favorite restaurant and theater tickets. I hope she takes a nice guy along. She gives her life to this business, and we don’t appreciate her enough.

Once I communicated to the EnergiFusion staff that the founders are all traveling on business, things seemed to lock into place. I emphasized that they could get time on our calendars, so hopefully they’ll hardly notice the disruption. Mackenzie will be great about managing that for us.

Scott has been managing the security detail around the property, making sure things are secure here, and coordinating with Jim back home. There don’t seem to be any major breakthroughs about what happened at Crystal’s, so it’s just a waiting game. They still don’t have any idea how long we’ll be here, but I’m finding I like being sequestered with Jade.

I’ve also found a little time to spy on her. She told me she had the ceramics studio put in here because of a few local clients and because she loves spending time here and wanted to fully enjoy herself. Watching her work is incredible. She gets lost in her process, fully immersed as she takes clay from block to carefully spun creation. It’s mesmerizing to watch.

Now that it’s the weekend, we’re determined to explore the area. Well, once again, she’s going to be my tour guide.

Beaver Creek is nothing like I expected. I thought it would be quiet, but the village is alive with summer activities. Tonight, we’re going to dinner in Vail with Scott and Lee Rodriguez, who is part of Clear’s local team, in tow.

We’re barely out of Beaver Creek when the scenery starts to open up, revealing mountains that look almost unreal, their peaks weathered and surrounded by miles of aspen trees shimmering in the afternoon sun. The winding road between Beaver Creek and Vail is breathtaking, like something out of a movie, and I glance over at Jade to see if she’s just as impressed.

She’s staring out the window, a faint smile on her lips. “It’s like a postcard,” she murmurs.

I nod. Something about her wonder brings a warmth to my chest.

By the time we reach Vail, the sun is dipping lower, casting a golden glow over the village. We head straight for Gondola One, the long silver cars waiting to carry us up to The 10th restaurant. It’s upscale, remote, and promises to be the escape I think we both need tonight.

We step into the gondola, and it’s silent, save for the gentle whir as it starts its ascent. The town fades beneath us, replaced by endless trees and towering mountains, and for a moment, I can almost forget the weight of EnergiFusion and Justin and the whole mess waiting below.

The restaurant, nestled on the mountaintop, offers sweeping valley views and a cozy, modern-lodge interior with warm wood and stone accents.

Once we’ve been seated, Jade studies the menu with a quiet intensity I’ve come to recognize as uniquely hers. I skim through as well, and when the server arrives, I order the bison. Jade surprises me, ordering some sort of layered vegetable dish. It’s clear from the presentation I can see on surrounding tables that this won’t be just any meal. This place knows how to treat food like art.

We both stick with sparkling water, and after the server leaves, I study her across the table. I want to make the most of this time we have together, this hiatus from regular life, and there’s still so much I don’t know about her, about how she became the woman she is. “Will you tell me about your childhood?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

Jade’s eyes widen, her smile faltering a moment. “Oh, that’s a loaded subject,” she replies, but there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes. She takes a sip of her water before continuing, as if choosing her words carefully.

“Well, let’s see. My father made his money the old-fashioned way, he inherited it. He met Margo, his first wife, when they were young. She came from an affluent family that owned a long string of newspapers, radio, and television stations. Margo and my dad had two boys. JP is the oldest, and he was nine when his mother put her foot down about Dad’s affair with my mother, Candi. She was a flight attendant on his private plane.

“So Dad left Margo for Candi, and they had my sister, Alexis, and then me. Then when I was ten, my father got his fling pregnant. Julia had worked in public relations for Allerton Mining. I think she thought my mother would divorce my father, but instead, she stayed married to him. These days Julia has a bad habit of showing up at family dinners when she wants money. Augustus is my youngest half-brother, and he’s at Harvard Business School.”

She pauses a moment, thinking. “That’s the logistics of it, but I suppose that doesn’t really address the experience. My father never really raised us. We were more like accessories to him—or maybe pawns is a better word.” Her tone turns bitter. “I told you about the family dinners, but my father has always liked to pit us against each other. Everything is a contest, whether it was grades, achievements, or even how we dressed. Whoever came out on top would get his attention, but only until someone else knocked them down.”

“That sounds exhausting,” I whisper.

“It was. I guess it kind of still is, though I’ve made a lot of progress. I’ve left the rat race as much as I can.” Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes briefly focused on something far beyond the restaurant’s walls. “But when you spend your whole life feeling like nothing you do is good enough—and worse, you view your brothers and sisters as rivals—it wears on you. It’s hard to feel like anything is solid and real.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I think he finds it entertaining. Well, I don’t think. I know his perverse little mind enjoys it. I don’t know what made him that way.”

For a moment, we sit in silence, the low hum of conversation from other tables filling the space between us. I want to say something that would make it all better, but I know that’s not possible.

She glances at me, like she’s expecting judgment, but I keep my expression open, understanding. I can see the way it disarms her, how her guard falters, just for a moment. It hits me in the chest. She’s spent so long building walls, assuming everyone’s out to use what they learn against her. But I don’t want the polished version of her that the world sees. I want her.

I can tell that terrifies her. Letting me in means handing over a weapon she’s spent years making sure no one could ever wield.

She takes a deep breath and shakes herself out of it. “What about you? Tell me about your family.”

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “For a while things were good. My mom was… Well, she was the glue that kept everything together. Every Sunday, she’d make the whole family pancakes—nothing fancy, just the classic ones with a little vanilla in the batter. Dad would flip them while we’d argue over who got the first one.”

Her gaze softens, and I find myself leaning into the memory, not hiding it away like I usually do.

“There was a time when it seemed perfect. Just the six of us—me, my mom and dad, and I’m the youngest of four kids. My older brother, Sandon, is six years older, my sister Tegan is four years older, and my sister Bryne is two years older. Dad worked for a camping equipment company, and one day a shelving unit full of ten-man tents collapsed on him. It broke his back. The company gave him what we thought was a big payout, but one back surgery took most of the money, and the lawyer they hired took the rest. Mom took on more hours at her job to make sure we had a roof over our head and food. Dad was given Oxy for the pain, and then he got addicted. For a long while, I was too young to realize how things were changing.”

I pause, taking a moment to pull myself together. “It wasn’t just the addiction that broke him,” I say, my voice low. “It was the shame. He went from being the guy who could fix anything to a man who couldn’t even manage himself. Watching that changes you, makes you feel like control is the only way to keep from falling apart.”

I look up at Jade. “I think that’s why I mostly keep to myself. I don’t have a lot of interaction with my family anymore, and I have my business partners, but there’s a structure to those relationships. It’s easier to manage chaos within a system or when no one’s close enough to add to it.”

I clear my throat, feeling the weight of that admission. I don’t talk about this much. But with Jade, it feels safe.

She nods just as we’re interrupted by the arrival of our food. And to my relief, we’re able to shift the mood just enough. My bison looks fantastic while Jade’s dish belongs on the cover of a gourmet magazine, layers of vibrant colors and textures only a true chef could create.

I nod toward her plate. “Looks almost too pretty to eat. You sure you don’t want to frame it instead?”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t let the artistry fool you, Rhys. I’ll take a picture for posterity, but this masterpiece is going down.”

I chuckle as she takes her first bite, her eyes lighting up in appreciation. “Careful. You’re making it seem like a competitive sport. Should I time you?”

She smirks, her fork pausing mid-air. “Only if you’re ready to lose. What about your bison? Is it everything you hoped for?”

I take a bite, chew thoughtfully, and then nod. “Rich, tender, and definitely worth the hype. But I have to admit, I’m a little jealous of yours.”

“Oh, you should be.” She leans forward, her voice teasing. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Too bad you’ll never know.”

“Is that so?” I drawl. “I’m not above stealing a bite when you’re distracted.”

She narrows her eyes. “Touch my plate, and I’ll stab you with this fork.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Noted. You’re more protective of your food than I expected.”

“You’d better believe it,” she says, taking another bite, her eyes sparkling.

Our banter lingers in the air, light and playful, easing the quiet that follows as we eat. But even in the moments where neither of us speaks, our connection feels tangible, something I didn’t believe was possible—at least not for me.

I watch her as she takes another bite, the soft light catching the curve of her smile, and for a moment, the weight of everything fades.

But the thought sneaks in anyway. How long can this last before the world catches up to us?