Chapter 8
8
ENNIO
I ’d gone back and forth on whether I should tell Auden what was happening, but in the end, my need for his support outweighed my embarrassment. So here I was, pacing his office on a Saturday evening as I tried to find the words to tell him what had happened.
“He’d posted this ad online, and it looked so real, so I went to see him and talk to him. He said he had investment opportunities. Big returns, right? And stupid me, I—I believed him.” I stopped and turned to face him, his expression a blend of concern and calm—classic Auden. “God, I was such an idiot. I gave him access to my accounts, Auden. Everything’s gone.”
His eyes widened. “How much money did you lose?”
I winced. After the phone call with the FBI, I’d forced myself to look at all the statements and make a calculation. It had been even worse than I had thought initially. “Technically, twenty-seven thousand dollars, but that doesn’t include the interest I could’ve and should’ve made on that amount over the last two years.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Apparently, Rudy stole over ten million dollars from clients and has fled the country. The chances of me ever seeing any of my money back are practically zero.”
“Are you okay? Financially, I mean?”
“Other than losing all my life savings, including money meant for my retirement? Sure. I just have to start from scratch…at thirty-six years old.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I sighed. “Not as sorry as I am. I feel so stupid.”
Auden leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. “Ennio, you’re not stupid. These scammers are professionals at manipulation. You can’t blame yourself for wanting to trust someone.”
“I’m—I’m humiliated. How could I let myself get conned like some—” I cut off, the word mark too sour to say aloud.
“Hey,” Auden’s voice was firm yet gentle, “you’ve got a big heart. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I sighed, dropping into the chair opposite him. “Yeah, well, this ‘big heart’ cost me my entire life savings.”
“Money can be earned back, Ennio. What matters is that you’re safe.” Auden’s eyes locked on mine, steady as ever.
“Safe and broke,” I muttered, but his words did soothe a fraction of the burn.
“Listen, we’ll figure this out, okay?” Auden promised, reaching across the desk to give my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Thanks,” I whispered, allowing his strength to anchor me before I pulled away. “But promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t tell Mom and Dad. Please. I couldn’t stand them knowing how much of a mess I’ve made.”
Auden frowned, concern etching deeper lines into his face. “Ennio, they’d want to help?—”
“Help or judge?” I shot back more sharply than I intended. “Mom would worry herself sick, and Dad… He already thinks I’m reckless. This would prove it to him.”
“Ennio, that’s not true. They love you?—”
“Sure, they do. But it’s always been different with you and Dad. Easier. If he knew about this…”
“Okay,” Auden relented after a long silence. “I won’t say anything. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll sort it out together.”
“Thanks, Auden. Really.” My heart felt lighter, though the knot in my stomach remained. Auden had always been my rock, the steady force in my life when everything else spun out of control. And right now, I needed that more than ever.
His phone rang, shattering the fragile silence. Auden answered with the swift professionalism that made him so good at his job as sheriff, his voice dropping into an octave that commanded respect and exuded calm.
“Frant here,” he announced, and I caught the shift in his posture—shoulders squaring, back straightening—as if he’d donned an invisible badge of duty.
I couldn’t hear what was said, but Auden’s face tightened.
“On my way.” Auden hung up and met my eyes, the apologetic tilt to his mouth not needed. “I have to go, Ennio. There’s a big MVC in Skykomish and they need my help. Can you make it home okay?”
“Of course.” I pushed away from the desk. “Go do your sheriff thing.”
Auden was standing right next to me when his phone trilled again, the ringtone slicing through the brief calm like a warning siren. He answered with a tired sigh that didn’t reach his stern expression. “Frant.”
“Hey, Auden, it’s Jack over at the Double F,” came the worried drawl from the speaker, loud enough for me to make out. “Marnin’s here, and he’s… Well, he’s pretty hammered. I’d drop him off somewhere myself, but we’re short-staffed tonight.”
“Damn,” Auden muttered under his breath, casting me a glance that spoke volumes of his torn responsibilities.
“I can take care of Marnin,” I offered before he could even ask, surprising myself with the readiness in my voice. “You’ve got your hands full, and it’s right next door.”
“Ennio, you sure?” Auden’s gaze flicked to mine, searching for hesitation that wasn’t there.
“Positive.” I stood taller, feeling the need to prove my capability not only to him, but to myself. “Marnin might be a grumpy bear, but he won’t bite my head off.”
“Thank you,” Auden said, gratitude lacing his tone. “Jack, Ennio will pick up Marnin. Make sure he doesn’t leave before my brother gets there.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
Auden ended the call, turning to me again. “Keep me updated, okay? It’s not like Marnin to be this drunk. Hell, I didn’t even know he was in town.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, a solid, reassuring weight. “And be careful. He can be a handful.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
“Alright.” Auden gave my shoulder a final squeeze before striding out the door.
When I walked into the Double F, the music was blaring, the patrons were dancing, and Marnin was sprawled across one of the bar’s worn wooden booths. His head lolled to the side, his dark hair a mess, streaks of gray catching the light like silver threads against a night sky.
“Hey, Ennio. Thanks for coming,” Jack said. He was a mountain of a man but much softer and kinder than his impressive posture suggested.
“No problem.” My gaze never left Marnin. “How long has he been here?”
“Two hours, but he kept ordering them,” Jack replied, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on a rag. “I cut him off, but he was already three sheets to the wind.”
I crouched beside him, my heart sinking at the sight of Marnin’s usually sharp chestnut eyes now dull and unfocused. “Marnin? It’s Ennio. We’re heading home.”
“Home?” Marnin slurred, trying to focus on me. “No…no, not yet. Just one more?—”
“Sorry, big guy, party’s over,” I said gently but firmly, slipping an arm under his shoulder and urging him upright. His body was a dead weight, heavy and uncooperative, but I managed to hoist him up.
“Need a hand?” Jack moved to Marnin’s other side, his grip strong and steady.
“Thanks,” I breathed out, grateful for the help. We maneuvered Marnin toward the door, his feet dragging, a string of halfhearted protests tumbling from his lips.
“Get him home safe, huh?” Jack said as we reached my car.
“Will do.” I nodded, carefully settling Marnin into the passenger seat and buckling him in. “And thanks again, Jack.”
Jack gave a curt nod, then headed back inside to the warmth of the bar and its patrons.
I shut the car door with a soft click, stealing a moment to look at Marnin. His breath fogged the window and his face creased not just with drunkenness but something deeper, a shadow of turmoil. I shook the thought away, focusing instead on getting us home safely.
It was a mercifully short drive to my place. The engine’s hum was a lullaby that Marnin seemed immune to, his head lolling against the window with every turn I took.
“You holding up okay, Marnin?”
“Perfect,” he slurred, his words thick with sarcasm and alcohol. His eyes flickered open, then shut, a grimace flashing across his features. “Never better.”
I chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach my heart. It was hard not to feel a pang of affection for the man beside me—even when marinated in whiskey, there was an endearing vulnerability about him.
“Almost home,” I reassured him, though I wasn’t sure if the words penetrated the fog in his brain.
I focused on the road, my hands steady on the wheel, but inside, my thoughts were whirling. I needed to get Marnin home safe, tuck him into bed, and make sure he slept off the booze without choking on his own vomit.
“Home sweet home,” I announced as I parked in my driveway, cutting the engine.
Marnin groaned, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest as he struggled to sit up straight. “Don’t need your help,” he muttered, pushing at the door.
“Sure you don’t.” I got out and rounded the car to his side. “But humor me, will ya?”
He allowed me to help him stand, swaying on his feet, his tall frame threatening to topple over.
I slipped an arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you up to bed.”
We stumbled through the front door, Marnin cursing softly every time his foot caught on the carpet. I directed him toward the guest bedroom. “Okay, here’s the bed. Just lie down and?—”
“No.” He tried to push me away but ended up sitting on the bed. “No bed.”
“Come on, Marnin. You’re drunk, and you need to sleep it off.”
I helped lift Marnin from the bed to unbutton his shirt. His movements were sluggish, his usual brisk efficiency dulled by alcohol and emotional exhaustion. Each piece of clothing seemed like a layer of armor falling away, revealing the man beneath who was so rarely seen.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as I slid the shirt off his shoulders, “for being such a mess.”
“Hey, no apologies needed.” I pulled off his shoes. “We all have our moments.”
With careful hands, I eased his pants down his lanky frame, supporting him as he stepped out of them. That would have to do.
“Don’t wanna sleep. Too many thoughts,” he murmured, resisting my attempts to push him onto the mattress.
“Thoughts can wait until morning,” I insisted, guiding him onto the bed. “Right now, you need rest.”
“Can’t.”
“Just close your eyes and let go.”
I expected the heavy veil of sleep to claim him, but instead, he propped himself up on his elbows, a furrow of worry knitting his brows. His eyes, normally so guarded and sharp, were clouded with a vulnerability that tugged at something deep within me. “I’m scared,” he whispered.
My heart clenched. Marnin, the man who seemed to wield sarcasm like a shield, was peeling back layers I’d never seen before. “Scared? Of what?”
He stared at me for a long time. “Cancer.”
Cancer? Where the hell had that come from? Worry wrapped around my heart. “Are you… Are you sick?”
“I dunno,” he slurred slightly, the alcohol still holding its grip, “I’ve got these…these damn tests coming up.”
I perched on the edge of the bed. “What kind of tests?”
“Could be nothing.” His attempt at nonchalance was only halfhearted, not enough to overpower the fear lurking in his gaze. “Or it could be serious. I mean, at my age, things start breaking down, don’t they?”
“Have you been having symptoms? Is that why you’re worried?”
“Symptoms, yeah.” He avoided my gaze, picking at the bedsheets. “It’s nothing definitive yet. But the waiting, the not knowing—it eats at you, you know?”
I took his hand and held it. He didn’t pull away, which was all kinds of alarming in itself. “What kind of symptoms?”
“I’ve been…experiencing some problems. Erectile problems.”
The words hung heavily between us, an admission that had to cost him. I tightened my grip on his hand ever so slightly, a lifeline in the form of a human touch. “That’s got to be scary, but these kinds of issues are more common than you think. And they can be treated, you know?”
“It’s not about sex, Ennio. It’s like my body is betraying me, and my mind goes to the darkest places. What if it’s a sign of something worse? What if it’s…?” He swallowed. “Prostate cancer?”
“Isn’t that one of the cancers that’s easiest to treat? And besides, you don’t know if you have it. You’ll have to wait for the tests.”
“I know.” He blinked slowly. “I hate waiting. No patience.”
“Shocker. How about we talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober, hmm? Come on, let’s get you comfortable.” I coaxed his hands to release mine. “You need to rest.”
Tucking the covers around his body, I watched him settle into the mattress, his expression softening as the warmth enveloped him. He looked up at me, a silent thanks passing through his gaze, and I felt a swell of protectiveness.
“Try to sleep,” I whispered, brushing a thumb across his brow. “I’m just a shout away if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.” The word was barely audible as his eyelids grew heavy.
As Marnin’s breaths evened into the rhythm of sleep, I sat quietly on the bed, my gaze fixed on his peaceful face. The harsh lines that usually furrowed his brow had smoothed away, revealing a vulnerability he kept shielded behind a fortress of sarcasm during the day. It was like watching walls crumble, exposing the raw bricks of his fears and hope beneath, and a sense of protectiveness washed over me.
I wanted to be there for him, but would he let me? My fear was that in the cold light of day, he’d regret sharing this with me and push me away. Marnin Rosser didn’t lean on people, least of all on little old me. Right?