In Too Deep Page 2

  “Wren, it’s good to see you again.” Marvin shook her hand, warm and fatherly. “You must be Sky. I’m Marvin Cormer. Welcome to Blue Spruce Lodge.”

  “Mr. Cormer owns Blue Spruce Lodge. He’s my new boss,” Wren explained to Sky.

  “Marvin, please,” Marvin insisted. “I want you to feel at home. We’re one big happy family here.”

  And people called him a dreamer, Trigg thought.

  “Is this, like, a handicapped room or something?” Sky eyed the extra-wide door, brow quirking with pained dismay.

  “We made this wheelchair accessible last month. It still needs to be fitted with a roll-in shower and lower sinks. We’ll remove this door into the manager’s office, too.”

  Sky shifted her attention to the twin beds with a narrow night table between them. “I don’t get my own room?”

  “It’s fine.” Wren smiled benignly.

  “We’ve had a lot of discussions on how best to accommodate you,” Marvin said, clasping his hands in front of him and smiling his magnanimous smile.

  They had, in fact, talked this shit to death. Deciding where Sky and Wren would sleep was the tip of the iceberg. How Sky’s existence affected Wikinger, which was the family corporation, and Whiskey Jack, the unfinished resort, along with Rolf and Glory’s upcoming wedding, had all been lengthy negotiations. Even whether to give Wren the manager job had been a freaking referendum. When his mother had started setting hard limits on whether she would be called ‘Grandma,’ Trigg had folded and walked away.

  “We’ll work out alternate arrangements if you decide to stay into the new year,” Marvin said. “The lodge is fully booked for the wedding next month—”

  “Who’s getting married?” Sky looked up from petting Murphy.

  “My brother,” Trigg said.

  “To my daughter,” Marvin added, shirt expanding with his swell of pride. “July fourth.”

  It was a dumb day for a wedding. A Wednesday. But Glory wanted it and Rolf had backed her up. Trigg had since figured out it was the anniversary of their first shag. Glory was a romantic while Rolf was keeping his anniversary dates easy to remember.

  “Hmmph.” Sky’s interest evaporated. “I thought it was, like, a celebrity or something, since they booked the whole hotel.”

  Nice one, kid. Trigg made a mental note to repeat that to Rolf, the four-time Olympic gold medalist marrying the bestselling romance author.

  “Several guests are quite famous. You can talk to your—” Marvin cleared his throat. “Um, Vivien, that is, Trigg’s mother.” Marvin glanced at Trigg the way Murphy had when he’d got his paw caught in his own collar.

  “Mom thinks it should be Sky’s decision whether to tell people what’s going on.” Trigg squeezed the knotted muscles in the back of his neck, then gave the back of his head a quick scratch. It was freshly cut and still felt bristly and unfamiliar. Fucking meetings with the board. He and Rolf had been called on the carpet for firing Basco Construction, as if Wikinger wasn’t their company to run as they saw fit. Theirs to protect when they discovered a fox in the henhouse.

  He brushed aside worrying about that right now, dropping his hand to his side.

  “Mom said it’s a lot to get used to and we don’t need staff asking questions,” he explained. “That’s why we’re not all here to greet you. Mom thought that would be overwhelming. She wants you to come up for lunch where you can meet and talk in private.”

  Mom wanted the home court advantage.

  “That’s thoughtful. Thank you.” Wren turned a smile on Sky that said, Isn’t that nice?

  Trigg didn’t know the definition of ‘baleful,’ but had a feeling that was what Sky sent back.

  He wished he knew more about how all this had come about. Between shock and rearranging his life, Trigg hadn’t communicated much with Wren. Their lawyers had handled most of it and they’d only emailed about logistics.

  He wanted to know, Why now? Why not years ago, when Mandy had died? Why hadn’t Mandy contacted him when she decided to have Sky? Wren had been on her own with Sky since she was nineteen. That must have been hard as hell.

  Even so, Wren had been adamant that she wanted a job so she could continue supporting herself and her niece. That’s what the visit to the lawyer had been. A brief introduction of father and daughter along with signing paperwork that basically said Trigg could set aside his entire fortune for Sky if he wanted to, but Wren kept full custody. She would only accept a nominal monthly amount for child support.

  Wren had been prepared to stay in Utah if Trigg didn’t want to get involved. She had also offered to find work in Haven, which was the town closest to the resort.

  Sky wanted to get to know her dad, though. If Trigg had continued training and competing, he would have been gone more than he was here. Even working to rebuild the hill with Rolf was a lot of demanding hours. If Sky wanted to get to know him, living here at the lodge was their best opportunity.

  Did he want to get to know her? From what Wren had said to Marvin last month, Sky had been ‘acting out.’ How? Did Wren expect him to turn into a dad and sort that shit? Because she was barking up the wrong tree. He didn’t know anything about being a parent and he’d been a hellion of a son.

  He supposed he did want to know more about both of them, but this entire situation was so far beyond anything he knew how to deal with, something in him had locked down and wouldn’t budge. He’d seen Rolf do this a thousand times and wanted to punch him every time, but here he was, digging in with all his strength, unable to soften, reach out, or bend. His ability to communicate had devolved into primitive grunts and barely restrained aggression.

  “Vivien is organizing the wedding. She can tell you about the guest list.” Marvin circled back to the topic that consumed everyone these days. Forget trying to build a resort or the fact Trigg had a kid. Did anyone have a color suggestion for the candle in the centerpieces?

  “We’re in room one-twenty,” Marvin continued. “I’ll let Vivien know you’re here. But first, may I help with luggage?”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” Wren offered Marvin what looked like her first natural smile, jangled her keys and walked out.

  Leaving Trigg alone with his kid.

  Chapter Two

  Skylar didn’t look at her ‘dad.’ She kept petting Murphy.

  None of this was what she had expected. Auntie Wren had said a million times that there were no take-backs if she met her father. It was such a stupid thing to say, but she was starting to realize what she meant. She had cried last night, before Auntie Wren came to bed, and didn’t know why. She thought it was because she missed her friends in Utah, but she didn’t really care about them. She had just needed to cry, even though she should be happy to know who her dad was.

  Auntie Wren should have told her who he was a long time ago. She had always said that he was a guy who her mom had met at a ski hill one time. They were teenagers and had sex and it only took once. Remember that.

  Ugh. Lecture me some more. Please.

  But Auntie Wren wouldn’t tell her his name. Sky figured it was because Auntie Wren knew Sky would find him online and message him. Instead, Auntie Wren had pulled some sneaky bullshit last month and left Sky with Aunt Lydia while she came here for a job interview. Then she waited until they were home to say, Your dad lives in Montana. I got a job there so we can live there and you can get to know him.

  Then it turned out her dad was super rich and a famous snowboarder. So, yeah, of course Sky said she wanted to come live in his hotel and ski for free. Who wouldn’t?

  But that’s not how this was. She met her dad in some boring lawyer office that had been worse than a library—it was so quiet and filled with stuck-up people wearing glasses. Her dad wasn’t lovey-dovey. He didn’t say how happy he was that he had a kid. He looked serious and unthrilled. Auntie Wren had been all calm and nicey-nice the way Sky had seen her when Sky came to the dentist office for a cleaning and heard a patient stand at the counter and rip Au
ntie Wren a new one about their bill. She never got mad or talked back. It was so gross to watch.

  As soon as they left the lawyer’s office, Sky had said she changed her mind and didn’t want to do this.

  I just signed the papers, Auntie Wren said. I’ve already given up the apartment and quit my job.

  No take-backs.

  Sky still felt sick about it.

  At least he had Murphy. He was acting like he loved her on sight.

  “What kind of dog is he?”

  “No idea. He showed up beside my truck without a collar, looking hungry.”

  She glanced at him. He looked like a robot. The Terminator kind.

  “Auntie Wren wouldn’t let us get a pet, except once we had a goldfish. It died the same weekend. She can’t even keep a houseplant alive. She brought a poinsettia home from her work and it shriveled up right away.”

  “She seems to have kept you alive.”

  She scowled. Was he taking her side?

  How could this be her dad? He wasn’t much older than Tony, the guy who worked at the cell phone store in the mall. He had said she was pretty and asked how old she was. She had lied and said fourteen.

  She had always known her dad was a year younger than her mom, but she had still pictured he would look like other dads, with a beer belly and going gray or bald. More like Marvin.

  It was extra weird because even without knowing he was her dad, she had watched him on TV, doing tricks and jumps on his snowboard. She had thought Auntie Wren had a crush, taping to make sure she didn’t miss him. After Auntie Wren told her who he was, Sky had looked him up and seen millions of photos and videos online. She’d listened to him talk about alley-oops and chicken salad and watched him sing the anthem on the podium. She had read about him being accused of smoking pot and there were a ton of comments from women who wanted to marry him and gay guys who wished he was bi.

  Trigg Johansson wasn’t any guy. He was a super star she had never expected to meet. And he was her father. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  She would if Auntie Wren hadn’t kept him a secret. Why? Auntie Wren kept saying it was because Sky hadn’t really asked about him, but that wasn’t true. Sky had asked all the time. She didn’t remember her mom and always wished she knew her dad.

  Auntie Wren had made excuses.

  The door opened and Auntie Wren came back with Marvin. They dropped a bunch more stuff on the table and the end of the bed.

  That was another thing. Why had Auntie Wren sold all the furniture? Not that Sky’s bed had been great. Everything had been secondhand, but Auntie Wren said if they wanted a fresh start after this, it would be a real fresh start.

  “We can manage the rest,” Wren said.

  “I’ll let Vivien know you’ll be up soon,” Marvin said.

  He looked like a guy who would play an undertaker in a movie. Not a creepy one. The kind who tells a kid a secret about how the soul stays to listen to the music so their mom isn’t really gone and everything will be okay.

  “I’ll meet you up there,” he said as he left with Marvin. Was she supposed to call him ‘Trigg’? What kind of name was that, anyway? German? That’s what his dad had been. His brother’s name was even weirder. Rolf. Gag. Barf. Vomit.

  The door closed and Auntie Wren let out a big breath.

  “I want my mom’s diary,” Sky said. “The real one. Not the baby one.”

  “It’s in my things. I’ll find it as I unpack.” She opened her suitcase on the bed, then opened a drawer.

  “You know exactly where it is. I know when you’re lying to me.”

  “Skylar. I said I would give it to you once we got here and I will. But we’re supposed to meet…” She waved at the ceiling. “Can you wait until after lunch?”

  “I know what you’re doing. You’re always telling me to ignore peer pressure and be careful guys don’t take advantage of me, then you manipulate me.”

  “Skylar—”

  “And you always say my name like that—Skylar—when you want me to shut up and do as I’m told.”

  Auntie Wren paused in dropping clothes into the drawer. “Very perceptive. That’s exactly what I want.”

  “Well, fuck that.” A jolt of power went through her. She had said ‘shit’ and ‘damn’ in front of Auntie Wren, but not that one. Oh, it felt good!

  Auntie Wren didn’t even blink. She only reached for another armload of clothes. “I don’t care if you swear at me, but if you swear at other people around here, you’re going to look like a spoiled brat. Your choice.”

  Skylar folded her arms. “Which is basically calling me a spoiled brat for swearing at you. I’m not stupid. Quit treating me like I am.”

  “Sky—” She cut it off and swung around to face her. “You are twelve years old. That sucks. I remember how much it sucks—”

  Sky groaned at the ceiling. “Back in my day…”

  “But this is what grown-up life is. This is why I put off telling you who he was. This doesn’t get undone. It stays exactly this uncomfortable until you figure out how to deal with it.”

  “You didn’t want me to have a choice. You were afraid I would like him better than you and I do.”

  Auntie Wren never got super mad. She got snappy sometimes and could lecture a person into a coma, but she never yelled and fought back. When she was actually mad, she put on that face. That blank nothing of a face and turned away to continue doing whatever she was doing. It was so annoying.

  “I’m glad you like him. You must be eager to meet the rest of your family, too,” Auntie Wren said.

  Sky wanted to yank her ponytail. Hard. Give it the biggest, hardest shake with all her strength. “I hate you so much.”

  “That’s unfortunate because I love you.”

  Seriously. Hate.

  *

  Is that all you got? That’s what Wren wanted to say.

  Wren had grown a thick skin back when she was Sky’s age, surrounded by a clique of sixth graders who thought she was a bookworm freak who dressed funny. You smell like a basement. Do you even know what a TV is?

  She had learned very young that it was best not to engage. Pretending you didn’t exist had been her best and only survival strategy. She still employed it.

  Sky’s bitchy remarks stung, though. She used to be so full of love. She would tell Wren all the time that she loved her, out of the blue even. From two years old to eight, Sky had been a delight. They’d been best friends—which said everything about Wren’s upbringing that at sixteen, her best friend had been her four-year-old niece, but still. So much love.

  Things had started to get rocky when Wren had moved them out of her parents’ house. Sky didn’t seem to remember how tense things were there. All Sky remembered was that she’d had to change schools and it was Wren’s fault.

  By the time Sky turned ten, Wren had been going to the school to meet with the principal about bullying behavior. It hadn’t shocked her that Sky was not the victim. Having been on the receiving end of that kind of thing made it all the more mortifying and difficult to accept. The school had been zero help, blaming Wren.

  Is this really the best arrangement? You seem awfully young to be raising a girl this age.

  They’d changed schools again.

  That had coincided with Sky plumping up as puberty loomed. She’d been miserable and horribly down on herself. She started volleyball and other sports, made a few decent friends and slimmed down, more from a growth spurt than exercise, and had seemed happier for about a minute.

  Then her quest for independence had started. She had expressed it in all the most challenging ways—cutting class, refusing to turn in assignments, hanging out with boys who were way too old for her. Like, illegal old. She’d only had two periods and barely had boobs, but guys in their twenties had started circling her—drug-dealing, predatory bastards.

  Wren had been at the end of her rope when she had stalked Trigg again and saw there was a job opening at the lodge. Coming here last month, she
had been desperate for anything, anything, to provide a glimmer of hope.

  Of course, she was the villain again. Of course, she was. She had been at fault since Sky’s conception. Why didn’t you know she left your room? You were supposed to be each other’s chaperone.

  No more ski camps or other field trips after that.

  But whatever. For the most part, Wren was as honest with her niece as was appropriate for her age. This was what life was—messy and hard. It was something you survived until it killed you. Sometimes there was cake to trick you into thinking the fight was worth it.

  Would Vivien have cake? Please have cake, Wren silently pleaded as they went back to the lobby and climbed the carpeted stairs. Sunlight poured through the tall windows to add shine to the polished mahogany rails. Paintings on the wall showed landscapes that looked a lot like the surrounding area, but they were in unnatural colors of pink trees and orange mountains.

  “Someone does drugs,” Sky commented.

  They were strange, but interesting and compelling. This whole lodge was that way—it looked like a high-end hotel, but it had a warm, quirky vibe that drew her in and made her want to spend more time here.

  When Wren had come last month, she hadn’t had any intention of actually working here. She had night-managed a small motel while getting her training for the dental office and knew this work was thankless.

  Blue Spruce Lodge was different, though. It catered to upscale guests on vacation, not tired travelers looking for a cheap bed on their way through. The serene location in the wilderness beat the heck out of living in the city, working with patients who resented the cost of care they genuinely needed. In another life, she might have sought a job like this.

  You didn’t want me to have a choice.

  Sky’s accusation was way off base, yet managed to score a line against Wren’s heart anyway. Wren had never felt like she had much choice. When she had taken risks, they’d been big, heavy decisions that had overturned whatever safety and security she had managed to attain for herself. Or they’d been in Sky’s interest, not her own.