Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Two months later

Colton stood leaning against the back wall of his team's conference room at their home base office just outside Denver. It was getting late, but Tony had brought the team together to see the edited footage of last week's paragliding stunt.

Colton watched himself dip and fly through the air, grinning like he didn't have a care in the world, almost as if he were watching a stranger. But he had to admit the camera footage, and what had been done to it in editing, was exceptional. Tony, as always, had known what he was doing and what shots he wanted to get. What shots people would love.

The way everyone in the room cheered as the video ended and the lights came up in the room, Tony had once again done what he did best: make Colton look like a superstar.

"And that's how it's done, people." Tony was grinning from ear to ear at the head of the conference table. Public relations and media were his show; this was his team. Colton was more than happy to let him run with everything. "You all did your job perfectly, and the results were fantastic. Good job. "

The team of eight erupted into cheers, hugging and slapping one another on the backs. Tony was right—everyone had done a great job. Another successful stunt in the books.

It wasn't the first since the accident. Colton had done half a dozen televised stunts since the avalanche—rock-climbing, canyoning, BMX biking, kitesurfing, and, most recently, paragliding at dawn from the Makapu'u Cliffs in Hawaii.

All successful.

Hell, he'd even gone snowboarding two weeks after leaving that hospital. Nothing nearly as elaborate as the original stunt off Grand Teton, but enough to prove he wasn't going to let a bunch of snow get the better of him.

"You just wait," Tony announced. "This is going to get a shit-ton of views, and nobody had to almost die for us to go viral."

Everybody cut their eyes over to Colton, and he forced a grin onto his face. "The nobody-has-to-die stunts are quickly becoming my favorite."

Everyone laughed, and Tony dismissed them to get to work posting and preparing for the next event. He walked over to Colton.

"Sorry, boss, that joke too soon?"

Colton thumped him on the shoulder. "It's all good."

And it was all good. Colton hadn't suffered any long-term damage from the avalanche. A slightly sprained wrist and a bunch of bruises, but no broken bones or concussion. Yeah, CPR from his dad had been necessary, but he hadn't had any long-standing effects from that either.

Everything was fine. Better than fine.

Like he'd said: all good.

Colton felt his hand begin to tremble and stuck it in his pocket without looking at it. Sweat popped out on his forehead, but he forced himself not to wipe it. He happened to know for a fact that if he ignored the physiological signs of the panic attack waiting to try to overtake him that nobody would notice anything was wrong at all.

Because nobody knew about or expected them. They only knew Colton showed up for work every day and got shit done. Just like he always had.

He turned away from Tony as the man started talking to someone else, and he walked toward the conference table, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

One, one thousand.

Two, one thousand.

There was no snow. There was no dark. There was plenty of air. He was fine. He was fine. He was ? —

"You okay, Colton?" Tony asked from behind him.

"Fine." Colton forced the word out, taking a seat, keeping his back to the other man.

If tradition held, nobody would press. All Colton had to do was keep it together enough not to make anyone look too closely. It had worked for two months.

"You sure?" Tony continued. "If we need?—"

"Okay. I've got the master calendar like you asked." Sheila Masters, one of the leads of the media team, entered with Rick Wynnsworth muttering behind her.

Rick was kind of an asshole, but at least their entry got Tony's attention off Colton. He clenched his hands in an effort to force the tremors to stop, but it didn't seem to work. Even breathing was becoming an effort at this point.

Fuck . He couldn't have a full-on panic attack right here in front of some of his team.

"We're still waiting to hear back from the Taiwanese government about the Taipei 101 stunt, but?—"

Colton tried to focus on the words as the three of them discussed something about camera problems and security, but he could barely hear them over the roaring inside his head. The most he could do was nod anytime any of them looked his way.

This is like a stunt. Breathe through the fear. Breathe through the pain .

Colton had been facing down fears his whole life. Nobody did the sort of stunts he did without having to figure out how to center themselves in the middle of chaos .

Do that now.

Centering himself had never been something he'd actively had to figure out how to do. He'd always merely focused on what was in front of him and silenced the noise of everything else around him.

But how could he silence something that was inside his own mind?

Sheila laughed at something scribbled on to her tablet. Tony said something to Rick and the other man rolled his eyes, but Colton still didn't force himself to figure out the words. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his fists, focusing all his energy into that motion.

Into something he could control.

He did it over and over, until some of the roaring died, his chest easing and allowing more air through.

"What do you think, Colton?"

Colton looked over at Tony. "Yeah, just let me know when and where to be."

The air became thick with awkwardness as Tony, Sheila, and Rick looked at one another and then basically everywhere but at Colton.

He obviously hadn't answered the question correctly.

"Um." Tony cleared his throat. "Rick was telling us there's been another letter."

Colton sat up straighter, trying to salvage the situation. "Right. Sorry. I had the master calendar on my mind and sort of zoned out."

Everybody gave slightly awkward laughs, but it broke the tension in the room at least a little bit.

"Another letter?" Colton asked.

"Your stalker has struck again." Rick wafted a piece of paper in front of him. Colton could smell the perfume even from across the table.

The annoyingly sweet scent clung to the air but at least wiped out the last of the panic from Colton's body. His head cleared, his chest loosened enough for regular breathing, his hands stopped shaking.

For whatever reason, the thought of a stalker was easier to process than everyday life.

"Give me the details," Colton demanded. "Where was it found? Anything unique about this one?"

He could see the relief on Sheila's and Tony's faces that he was finally acting normally as they took seats around the table. Colton had no idea why focusing on a stalker could snap him out of an oncoming panic attack, but he would take it.

Rick perched himself on the table and handed the letter to Colton.

"This was found on your doorstep. Your cleaning lady found it and called the office."

Colton reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Lucy knows to do that. It must have come after I left this morning."

But the fact was it could've come at any point after about two a.m. last night. That was when Colton had given up trying to sleep— again —and had left his townhouse. He'd gone for a run and then a workout, hoping that would exhaust his body enough to sleep.

It hadn't. Just like it hadn't for the past two months.

So, he'd ended up in the only place that had worked for him to get any sort of decent sleep: his ancient pickup truck.

It seemed to be yet another perk of whatever fuckup his brain was having—only being able to sleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable and least-secure place possible. Go figure.

"There doesn't seem to be anything new with this latest letter," Rick said.

Colton could tell just by glancing at it that Rick was right. Tony stretched out his hand for the letter, and Colton slid it over to him. A few seconds later, the other man had images of the other letters pulled up on his tablet and then displayed on the conference room screens.

"Definitely the same MO as the other letters," Sheila said. "The theme is consistent. "

" You need someone ," Colton said.

" I want to be her ." Tony pointed to another bit of similar phrasing in multiple letters.

" We'll be together ." Rick rolled his eyes. " It's meant to be . Jesus, if this person is going to go to enough trouble to stalk you, they could at least attempt to be original in some way. What a waste of time and resources. I'd like to find this bitch myself and give her a taste of her own medicine."

Tony held out a hand toward Rick. "Let's keep things professional."

Rick rolled his eyes again.

Tony turned to Colton. "But it might be time to bring in law enforcement. We're now up to six letters in eight weeks, if you count that note from when you were in the hospital."

Rick threw up his hands. "And say what, exactly? That someone has all these lovey-dovey feelings for Colton but no creativity or capacity to say anything even remotely interesting? There's no threat."

Sheila shrugged. "There's no threat until there is a threat. Anybody else see that old movie Misery ? I hate to think of some woman kidnapping Colton and taking out his knees."

Colton sat back as the discussion about going to the cops continued, interspersed with generally inappropriate comments on occasion from Rick.

But the other man was probably right—at this point, the letters were more of an annoyance than anything else. Besides the fact that this woman was convinced the two of them were soul mates and continually said that she and Colton would be together forever, there wasn't much of a case for stalking.

Even some of the pictures of Colton that had arrived with the letters didn't suggest foul play. It wasn't illegal to take pictures of someone when he was out in public.

Creepy, but not illegal.

Colton stared up at the five letters on the screen, a feeling of detachment falling over him. He didn't care about these letters. Didn't care about anything. The apathy was the opposite of the panic attacks, but it seemed like those two extremes were his only two ways of existing.

And neither led to anything good.

"Is that okay, Colton?" Tony asked.

Shit. How many times in one day could Colton have no fucking idea what was happening in a conversation he was a part of without everyone figuring out he was not okay ?

His phone buzzing on the table in front of him saved him. It was Bear. His friend had always had great timing.

"I've got to take this," he told the PR team. It didn't matter that he probably would've said the same thing even if it had been a telemarketer.

Colton pressed the button to receive the video call as he stood and walked toward the conference room door.

"Bear. What's going on? How are you?"

"I had a quiet minute here, so I thought I'd give you a shout. How's everything going?"

Colton could tell Bear was inside the Eagle's Nest, the bar where everyone hung out in Oak Creek. Bear was a damn good mechanic by trade, but he liked picking up a bartending shift here and there, mostly just to interact with everyone.

He had been calling Colton at least once a week since the accident. He knew Colton wasn't at one hundred percent, but Colton hadn't shared how bad things really were. Not even with his closest friend. Not with this family. Not with anyone.

"Just going through some fan mail." Colton ignored both Tony's and Rick's huffs of air. "Everything's good."

He glanced over to find Tony watching him with one eyebrow raised, so Colton turned and walked the rest of the way out the door.

"Really?" Bear asked.

"Hey, fan mail is one of the perks of the trade." Hopefully he could keep Bear focused on that rather than wanting details about reality .

"Since when do you care about fan mail?"

He didn't normally, but he did now. "This one is a whole long brouhaha. I'll have to tell you about it."

Bear narrowed his eyes as he studied Colton but didn't press. Time to change the subject.

"Your camp's coming up in a couple weeks, right? Everything ready for that?"

Bear took the bait. "Mostly. Always more to be done, but the whole town is rallying around this, so I can't complain. Good kids. Good cause. Good activities planned."

His friend was so earnestly invested that it was hard not to be a little jealous. Damned if Colton didn't want something he could be that passionate about.

Although, hell, right now, he would take just not being batshit crazy.

"It's going to be amazing. I know it." That was nothing short of the truth.

"I think so too. I can't wait to get this first group of kids in and then hopefully make this an annual thing."

"I'm sure it will be."

"It's a lot of work, but…" Bear swung his head around. "Shit, we've got a DJ tonight, and he's starting the music back up."

A second later, music was almost all Colton could hear, along with a group of women laughing and talking as they headed out to the dance floor. Over Bear's shoulder, they came into view.

It took less than a second for Colton's focus to zero in on Ella.

She wasn't looking at Bear or his phone; she was talking to her friends and smiling.

That smile. He hadn't seen it since that night in his hotel room two months ago, but he'd definitely thought about it. Thought about her.

Moreover, the only good dreams he could remember since the accident had involved Ella O'Conner. He might've been irritated that she had snuck out after their night together, but his subconscious had been clinging to her like some kind of lifeline .

He watched as she danced with Lilah and Becky, saying something that made both women laugh. Her own soft smile crept over her face.

"Hey, I've been wondering if you need an extra pair of hands getting this first camp set up." The words were out of Colton's mouth before he was even aware he was going to say them.

Bear's eyes widened. "You?"

"Yeah, me. I've got a few weeks with no stunts coming up" — Colton was a little surprised that Tony didn't stick his head out of the conference room and start screaming at the lie — "and I'm thinking a little change of pace might be good for me."

Bear glanced over his shoulder at the girls and then turned back to his phone. The other man obviously knew what was going on, but he didn't force the topic.

"We could definitely use your help. Make it out whenever you can, and we'll put you to work. I've got to go, brother. See you soon."

With a wink, Bear was gone.

Colton slipped his phone back into his pocket, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just done. Tony and the team weren't going to be happy, but then again, Tony and the team were on Colton's payroll. They got paid whether he did stunts or not, so they would be fine.

But he needed to get the fuck out of here. Get away from everything.

Ella's smile flashed through his mind. He shouldn't want to see her. She'd snuck out after their sex and then hadn't even come to see him in the hospital.

So, going to Oak Creek would not be about her. It would be about helping a friend launch a project dear to his heart. A good cause. Not about Ella O'Conner at all.

And hopefully Colton could get his own head on straight in the process.