Chapter 15
Talon
Eloise and I came straight to Ricochet this morning after Victoria forwarded me Zeke’s resignation email, asking not to work any more shifts with me. She had questions, but so did I. I’d asked her to say nothing and keep this to herself until I could get to the bottom of it.
Rebecca was my first stop. She was understandably hesitant to discuss another employee with me when I’d demanded to know if Zeke had said anything to her or tried to contact her this morning.
I’d had no choice but to tell her who I was when I’d asked for Zeke’s address so I could make sure he was okay.
In fact, we were just going over the address on file when the man himself fell on his way to the host stand after stumbling off the gondola.
“Zeke,” I plead, falling to my knees in the snow next to him as I lightly tap his pale cheeks. “Zeke, please wake up,” I beg again.
I place the back of my hand against Zeke’s forehead.
“He’s burning the hell up,” I tell Eloise. “We’ve gotta go. Zeke, hold on,” I tell him pointlessly. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but it makes me feel better to talk to him.
His eyes won’t focus, and they keep closing. It looks like he’s trying to fight going under, but he’s losing.
“Please keep everything you’ve learned today to yourself. Your discretion is appreciated, but can become mandatory if needed,” my sister says to Rebecca, stepping into full-blown HR mode.
Eloise can worry about the company.
I just care about getting Zeke to the hospital.
“I love Zeke like a brother,” Rebecca cries. “I won’t say a word. Just help him, please. And text me updates as you get them.”
Having no time to waste, I scoop Zeke off the ground as gently as I can and walk back toward the gondola. I know it’s bad when he doesn’t even protest the help. Instead, his head falls limply against my shoulder as his lungs struggle for breath against the altitude.
The operator in the gondola lift-house nods at me, telling me it’s okay to enter the platform and get on. Because I have Zeke in my arms, he does me a favor and stops the rotating boxes until I’m seated, cradling Zeke against me with Eloise at my side.
When we exit the gondola at the bottom of the mountain, we walk straight to my Range Rover, and Eloise helps me get Zeke strapped in.
“Hang on, Zeke. You’ll feel better soon,” I tell him again.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes are now completely closed.
“Sorry? Zeke, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I tell him, turning onto the road that will take us away from the resort and toward the hospital.
“I…said…no.” He has to work to get the sentence out, each word taking strength he doesn’t have right now.
“It’s okay. Just rest. We’ll be there soon,” I say, trying to reassure him.
I pull into the roundabout entrance at the hospital, throw the SUV into park, yank his door open, and pull Zeke into my arms again. It’s amazing how light he is, and I briefly make a note to make sure he eats something as soon as he can.
When I get him checked in, the medical staff ask all the usual questions.
Who is he?
Who am I?
What brings us in today?
When they get to the part about health insurance, I tell them I honestly have no idea, but I put myself down as the guarantor. Even if they run every test known to man, I can cover it financially.
Satisfied with the information I provided, the triage nurse moves us to a room, and another team immediately begins examining Zeke. I watch from the corner as they start an IV of fluids and push acetaminophen for his fever, which is currently at one-hundred-and-four degrees.
Another nurse works to get him undressed so they can finish their exam, and I turn away, giving him his privacy.
“This isn’t good. Joelle, call Dr. Farley,” the nurse in charge says to the other nurse in the room before turning to me. “Any idea how he got these?” she asks sharply.
When I turn to look at what she’s referring to, the room sways violently.
Zeke’s ribs are a swirl of blue, purple, and black, like someone fucking kicked him. The discoloration fans up to his chest and wraps around his side as well.
I’m two seconds away from punching the wall as the realization slams into me. Someone did kick him.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I mutter out loud.
“Excuse me?” the nurse says, her eyes widened in horror.
“Not him!” I clarify, pointing at Zeke. “His boyfriend. I know he’s responsible, and I want charges filed.”
Eloise steps next to me.
“Talon, think about this. There will be no way to keep that quiet, not with your name involved. Maybe Zeke doesn’t want that kind of attention,” she says rationally.
“So, what? You’d have me do nothing?”
“Not nothing. Just wait a beat before doing something. This needs to be Zeke’s choice.”
Bile rises in my throat as I move toward the bed, desperate to make the colors on his skin disappear somehow.
“I can’t let this go, and I know Zeke will. Get our attorney on the phone, El. I want a plan in place as soon as possible.”
Eloise looks uneasy, but grabs her phone to fulfill my request when she almost runs straight into a man in scrubs and a white lab coat entering the room in a hurry.
He pushes me aside and starts barking orders.
As they’re cutting Zeke’s pants off, the doctor tries to get Zeke’s attention, but he’s out cold.
Thankfully, the heart monitor is still beeping, but that doesn’t seem to be appeasing the doctor any.
Crossing to the phone in the room, he dials an extension with only four numbers, telling me whoever he’s trying to reach is inside the hospital.
“Can you page Dr. Halstadt and the OR team? I’ve got a patient with suspected internal bleeding, and I believe he’s gone septic.” After hanging up, he turns back to me. “Does he have any allergies to medication?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him.
“When was the last time he ate?”
“I don’t know that either, but I doubt he had much of an appetite after…” The sentence starts angrily, but I get choked up and lose steam. Thinking about Derek hurting Zeke makes me shake with uncontrollable rage.
It dawns on me in this moment how much I don’t know about Zeke, and that pisses me off, too. I only know his last name because it was listed in the playbill for the show.
The doctor nods and returns his attention to the bruised, unconscious man in the bed as the nurses begin unplugging Zeke from the monitor and push him out the door.
I’m frozen in place, so far out of my element here, and scared shitless for the first time in my life because money can’t fix him. Being kind can’t fix him. A legally binding contract and an NDA can’t fucking fix him.
“They’re taking him to surgery. Internal bleeding,” I explain as my sister comes back through the door. “What do I do?” I ask, more lost in this moment than I’ve ever been.
“Wait here,” she instructs, leaving the room a second time.
My legs have gone weak, and I collapse into the chair in the corner, planting my elbows on my knees and placing my head in my hands.
“The charge nurse said we can wait for Zeke in the OR waiting room,” Eloise informs me when she returns. “The cafeteria is also up on the third floor if we want to grab coffee or something.”
“Where’s he going to be after surgery?”
“I’m not sure,” Eloise replies.
I feel so helpless, and I fucking hate feeling helpless. I’m a workhorse. Long hours, a million things on my to-do list, constantly evolving, growing, expanding…that’s what I do, what my whole family does. So, I need to start being proactive before I lose my fucking mind.
“Come with me,” I tell Eloise.
Spotting the nurse’s station in the hallway, I step up to the circular desk and am greeted by a tired-looking woman in her mid-to-late fifties. I’ll bet she’s seen some shit in her time here.
“How can I help you?” she asks, politely enough that I know I can ask my question, but in a tone that tells me she’ll tolerate zero bullshit and doesn’t have time for small talk.
I like her.
“The patient they just wheeled to the OR from room nineteen, can you tell me what room he’ll be given after surgery?”
She stops filling medication bottles and starts clicking things on the computer.
“It looks like we don’t have any beds available in recovery, so he may be monitored in the hallway until a room opens up.”
“Can he come back down here?” I ask, knowing there’s no way in hell after the ordeal he’s been through, I’m going to let him wake up from surgery in a fucking hallway.
“That’s not really—”
“Look,” I say, interrupting her. “I’ll pay whatever I have to. I’ll donate a million fucking dollars to this hospital. Hell, I’ll donate ten million. I’ll buy you a new car or send you to the Maldives on a private jet. Just please get him a room.”
I don’t want them to kick another patient out, of course, but the room he just left is currently sitting empty, and I see no reason he can’t have that one back.
The nurse looks at my sister.
“Is he going to be a problem?”
Eloise smiles. “Probably. Unless Mr. Hastings gets a room.” Eloise holds her hand out.
“Christian and Eloise Devereaux,” she says, smiling.
“Siblings, not spouses. Our family owns the Ricochet Ridge Ski Resort down the road. And although he’s being a little pushy with the delivery, my brother can, in fact, follow through on every offer he just made.
Making sure Zeke is comfortable is our top priority right now. ”
“Well, Mr. and Miss Devereaux, I don’t need a new car, and this hospital would collapse if I went jet-setting to the Maldives, but I’ll see what I can do for your friend.”
“Thank you,” I tell the nurse sincerely.
“Why don’t you leave me your number and go grab a bite to eat upstairs? I’ll give you a call when I have something worked out, okay?”
I nod, thank her again, and start the waiting game.
Although this town isn’t large, this hospital is a trauma center due to the number of ski resorts in the area, not to mention the dangerous backcountry that surrounds it. The cafeteria is bustling with the family members of those who must be occupying all the beds in the recovery unit.
Eloise and I manage to find two barstools along the back counter. At least there’s a window, so it doesn’t feel too claustrophobic. It’s sort of reminiscent of an airport lounge, which I appreciate right now.
I’m staring out at the snow beyond the glass, but I can feel my sister’s eyes boring into me. I never answered her question, even though it kept me awake most of last night.
Do I feel something beyond friendship for Zeke?
What would it even be?
The thought that I might be bisexual doesn’t completely freak me out; it’s just unexpected.
It feels a little out of nowhere and kind of late in life.
It’s an identity crisis simply because, although I like to grow and evolve as a person, I was pretty confident in that part of myself.
To consider that I may have overlooked it is mildly terrifying.
“You want to talk about it?” Eloise asks, always on the same wavelength as me.
“Eventually, but not right now,” I say, taking a sip of my burnt coffee. Reaching into the basket on the counter, I pull out two creamers and one sugar.
I know it’s dumb, but it makes me feel closer to Zeke, and maybe it’ll improve the flavor.
“You know I support you no matter what, right?” she says, placing her hand over mine.
Too choked up to speak, I offer a silent nod.
Clearing my throat, I tell her, “I just need him to be okay first. I’ll process whatever this is once I know he’s going to make it.”
“He’s going to make it, Talon,” she says reassuringly, even though there’s no way she can know that for sure.
And that makes me wonder—what is he going to do when he wakes up? Where will he go? What will he wear? No way in hell is he going anywhere near Derek ever again, and I’ll be damned if I let him go back to the location of his trauma.
“El, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything,” she answers immediately.
I pull my car keys from my pocket and place them between us on the counter.
“Can you please take the car and buy some clothes for him? Sweatpants, boxers, T-shirts to start? He can borrow my hoodies, and I have no idea what kind of soap and shampoo he uses. Just buy whatever you like. He’ll need everything.
A new jacket, boots, a new razor, a toothbrush… Get him an iPad, a car, a new—”
“Tal, I got it. I’ll also swing by the store to make sure you have food that will be easy on his stomach, and I’ll get a variety of drink options.
” She slings her purse over her shoulder, grabs her coffee with one hand, and my keys with the other.
“How about you text me when he wakes up? I’ll give you guys some time to catch up and then come back by when you’re ready. ”
She kisses me on the cheek, and then she’s gone.
The charge nurse from the ER calls me about twenty-five minutes later to tell me she got approval for Zeke to return to room nineteen for recovery.
Restless without Eloise to ground me, I head back down to wait in Zeke’s room, wanting to see him as soon as he’s off the operating table.