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“Oh, baby, I never wanted you to be me. Besides, there’s no comparison. You’re better than I ever hoped to be. Have been since you were a little girl.”
“Right.”
“It’s true. I’ve known that since the first time you stood up on a pair of skis. Your eyes lit up. You were a natural. Even at two years old. I think that’s why it was so hard for me to accept it. I couldn’t understand why you’d want to walk away from the life you’d built.”
“I was emotionally broken,” I say.
“I wish I had known. I’m your father. I was supposed to make you feel safe. It was my job and I failed. I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”
I whimper as I let his words settle in my chest.
“I see a difference in you. You have a glow about you that I haven’t seen in years. Maybe Balsam Ridge is good for you.”
“I think it is.”
My saving grace.
I decide to sit the staff down and explain to them what is happening before the news breaks.
Morris summons everyone to the firepit for an informal meeting, and I lay it all out for them in excruciating detail. I’m overwhelmed by the support they offer me.
The embarrassment I once felt is replaced by empowerment and determination.
Secrets can eat you alive if you let them, but the funny thing about a secret is that the moment you let it out, it loses all its power.
“I’m so proud of you, Zoey. You standing up and showing the world that this can happen to someone like you is going to give other women the courage to stand up too,” Joanna says.
“Yeah, it’s pretty badass, boss lady,” Scooter agrees.
“Thanks, guys. You have no idea how much your support means to me.”
“We’ll always have your back,” Clay says.
Morris throws his arm across the back of my chair, and I lay my head on his shoulder.
He brings his lips to my temple, and I sigh.
“Wait, when did this happen?” Scooter asks, gesturing between me and Morris.
“Yeah, what did we miss?” Clay asks.
“Are you two serious? You need to lay off the weed,” Joanna quips.
Scooter’s head snaps to her, and he feigns offense. “We do not partake of the devil’s lettuce.”
We all burst out laughing at the obvious stoner.
“Cross my heart,” he says as he looks at me.
I raise a hand in the air. “As long as you’re not high during business hours, I don’t want to know,” I say.
He and Clay sag in relief.
“I guess we’d better call it a night,” Joanna says as she stands.
“Yep, we gotta be on our A game when the reporters start coming out of the woodwork,” Scooter agrees.
He extends his hand, and he and Morris tap knuckles.
