Page 27 of Northern Escape


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Damian tilted down his shades, his gray eyes studying Nate. “Nice beard. Going for a crazy Charles Manson vibe? You nailed it.”

“Can’t imagine why you and Ellis don’t get along,” Nate muttered. “Because you’re the same fucking person.”

But Damian had already dismissed his brother, his gaze landing on Peanut, who squeaked and shivered from behind Nate’s leg. “Jesus, Nate, your dog’s going to freeze to death out here.”

“She’s not my—”

Damian strode past him and pushed through the hospital’s janky double front doors like he was making a grand entrance at a millionaire’s party.

Nate growled softly, scooped up Peanut, and stalked after him. “Fine. You want to help settle Dad’s affairs? Great. About time you took an interest in this family. But what the fuck aretheydoing here?” He waved an arm behind him, indicating the line of vehicles and the people piling out of them.

“That’s my crew. They’re here to film.”

“What do you meanfilm?”

He dragged a finger along the top of the reception desk, leaving a trail in the dust, and scoffed. “This place hasn’t changed. I’m going to fix that.”

“I like it the way it is.Dadlikes it the way it is.”

“Dad isn’t coming back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Damian said. “My senior year, he disappeared just like this and he never came back for me. A whole year, I was by myself. I left before he dragged himself home. So, do I think he’s coming back? When he wouldn’t even come back to take care of his son? No. Nothing’s keeping him here. He’s gone. Either dead or doesn’t want to be found. It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

Nate noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and swung around to face the skinny guy holding a camera on his shoulder. “Are they fucking filming now?”

“They film everything,” Damian said without much concern. “We’re going to renovate and reopen Northern Rescue. It’ll make for compelling TV.”

“You can’t. Dad is missing and this is still his business.”

“No, it’s not. Rachel?” Damian crooked a finger at a woman with a blond ponytail so tight it gave her a facelift. She hurried over and handed Nate a stack of papers from her clipboard, then faded back into the growing chaos.

“I’ll save you the reading,” Damian said. “Dad was drowning in debt. Two months ago, he sold Northern Rescue to my production company. I own it now.”

“What?” Nate set Peanut down and flipped through the stack of papers. Sure enough, there was a bill of sale with Dad’s signature on it. “This isn’t right. He wouldn’t sell.”

“To me, you mean?” Damian snatched the papers back and tucked them into an inside pocket in his coat. “He wouldn’t sell it tome.”

“No, he wouldn’t willingly sell it to you. You dragged our family through mud on national TV for ratings. You called Dad a drunk and a womanizer—”

“All true.”

“And you said Ellis was following in his footsteps—”

“Also true. You forget I have a house in L.A. I’ve heard all about Ellis’s exploits with the women of Beverly Hills. He prefers the married ones. Sound familiar?”

Nate pressed his lips together. He wasn’t going to keep arguing. And he wasn’t about to rehash what Damian had said about him. It still hurt too much, and he wasn’t ready to hear Damian’s excuses.

Or maybe Damian didn’t have excuses. Maybe he was the cold, money-grabbing asshole Ellis claimed he was. It was hard to believe, though, because when Nate looked at him, under the designer shit and haughty I’m-better-than-you attitude, he still saw the little boy who was perpetually streaked with dirt. The boy who wore a Superman cape every day for an entire year. The boy who had once followed him everywhere and looked up to him and Ellis like they could move mountains.

“What happened to you, little brother?” The longer he stared, the more Damian’s smirk faded.

“C’mon. Like you don’t know.” He turned away. “Get out of my hospital.”

11

Somewhere in the Alaska Range

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