Chapter Five

Tate

I need to go check on my investment, and I can't do that without my assistant. That's all this is. My lawyer wants me to personally check on a resort that I own, and what do I pay Piper for if not to assist me in matters of business? This has nothing to do with that Elijah guy from last night, or how I spent an entire sleepless night imagining the way Piper's silky waves framed her face just so, or the soft glow of her skin under the hallway lighting. It's not about how her laughter seemed to fill up the room, or the delicate grace of her hands as she absentmindedly pushed her glasses up her nose when she talked to Elijah. I definitely shouldn't be thinking about the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and intelligence, or how that simple blue dress clung to her curves in a way that made it impossible to look away. No, I shouldn't notice any of that—not if I want to keep my sanity intact. Because until yesterday, I didn't realize that Piper had legs outside of them as implements she used for walking.

Nope. No can do. I'll say it again with feeling, I didn't spend even one second on Elijah or what his expression would look like if I pushed him out of a window. That would be weird.

It's just past dawn when I roll out of bed and hop into the shower, knowing it will be my last civilized washing experience before heading to the resort for the weekend. Yes, they have hot running water, but how am I supposed to clean myself without a touch screen shower with a precise temperature display? Or with less than three individual jets? The tiles aren't even heated. It's just one lousy showerhead with a single knob and nothing else, like the dark ages.

By all accounts, I'm not looking forward to this at all. Which is why the knot in my stomach that forms every time I think about seeing Piper on my childhood home turf doesn't make a lick of sense. She's going to fit in better than me, the man who has a blood tie to the place.

The time I spend packing passes not in dread, but something akin to excitement. As I slide open the drawer to my nightstand, an old, faded photograph of us at the lake slips out. There we are, all smiles, but behind my forced grin, I remember the sensory overload of that day—the loud laughter, the splashing water, the way the woolen picnic blanket scratched at my skin. No one noticed. They rarely did. Back then, I had no words for why I felt so alienated in my own skin, among my own people.

But that's all in the past, and I almost find myself humming a happy tune while waiting at the downstairs coffee shop for my order. Piper thinks I don't pay attention, but I do. I know she likes gouda on her breakfast sandwich, not cheddar, and that even though she takes cheese on the sandwich she wants oat milk in her coffee. I'd love to hear the explanation for that one day, but not before I ask her for the largest favor ever.

I go all the way back up to my place, just so I can take the private elevator down directly into her apartment, rather than wait at her front door and chance an encounter with Mrs. Gunderson and that tiny tyrant of fluff, Johan. It occurs to me just before the door opens that she was on a date last night, and that I might be walking into something I don't want to see. A zing pierces rockets through me even thinking about it. With my hands full of coffee and sandwiches, there's not much I can do to prevent the door opening and giving me a full view of her apartment.

I hold my breath with my heart galloping inside my chest.

Other than a messy brunette bun visible over the top of the couch, the place seems to be blessedly empty. Bullet dodged.

But I'm still wondering if Elijah kissed her goodnight. Or more.

And now I'm trying to strategize how to ask her without sounding like a complete stalker hell-bent on violating all of Minnesota's human resources laws.

"Good morning?" she asks at the sound of the elevator door closing behind me. Crossing to her living area, I take a seat on the chair opposite the sofa, sliding the coffee and sandwich her way. She accepts the coffee with an arched brow.

"What's the occasion?" Removing the lid from the paper cup, she blows on the hot liquid before taking a sip. "Oh, are you trying to get the deets on my date? I'm not a kiss and tell kind of girl. Sorry."

Am I that obvious? I lean over to look behind her and into the apartment, double checking my assumption that we're alone. I still don't see anyone, and I'm pretty sure that if any shirtless men were hanging around this morning, she'd be trying a lot harder to get me off of her chair and out of her apartment.

"No, actually. I wanted to speed up the process." Glancing at my watch, I figure that we have about an hour before the rental car is delivered. I considered having a driver take us instead, but that would blow our cover immediately, as would showing up in the Mercedes. I called the rental agency this morning and had them send us the most normal vehicle imaginable. They were a little confused by my question, but I think they're sending us a Subaru mid-sized sedan. It was hard enough to get them to send a vehicle with Minnesota plates.

"What process? It's Saturday. This," she gestures at her sweatpants before pointing at a book on the coffee table, "is my process. And you're interrupting it."

I turn my head, trying to read the title from my upside down vantage point. It's a book about Italian fresco painters in the late Medieval period. I always forget that Piper can be smarter than I am sometimes. Not that I'd ever tell her that. That kind of talk would go straight to her head. Regardless, it's a book. She can bring the book and her sweatpants with us. She can bring a whole library, for all I care.

I scrub a hand down my face. "So, you're going to have to process elsewhere."

She takes a large gulp of coffee, followed by another, bracing herself for whatever it is that I have planned. "Outside the sanctuary of my own home. Where would that be?"

"Go Jump in the Lake," I offer with a shrug.

Blinking at me slowly, her lips draw into a taught, flat line. "That's no way to convince me to go anywhere with you."

I laugh, realizing my gaffe immediately. Mom always had a sense of humor. She loved the name for the place, refusing to budge on it a single inch. She still managed to giggle about it every time she said it, even after all these years. And our guests? Most of which are repeat? Well, they love it too. Frankly, I don't understand how I'm related to any of them. Maybe I was switched at birth.

"Sorry, that's the name of my family's resort. We're going to Sunset Lake." I pause for a moment, waiting to see if she turns me down. When there isn't any immediate protest, I continue, tapping the wrapper of her sandwich with my index finger. "Have a breakfast sandwich… while you pack."

Her eyes narrow at the word "pack.". "So. Not a day trip?"

"No, more like a day and a night cubed."

"Long weekend. Interesting." She rolls her head along her shoulders in a stretch, then leans forward for the sandwich. Unwrapping it, she takes a large bite, talking around the food in her mouth. "And what prompted this? What if I had another date this weekend?"

My breath stalls in my lungs, and I can feel my pulse whooshing through my eardrums. "Do you?"

She swallows, then answers sheepishly. "No. But I totally could've. You shouldn't just assume."

I stiffen so I don't visibly sag with relief. I'll unpack that later. "Excellent. Nothing stands in your way then. Let's go. Ledger used Fallon to trick me into a conversation with him. He made some valid points, and the guilt is riding me hard."

"Kind of like you and Mavis the other day?" Piper stands from the sofa, an impish twinkle in her eye at the question. I won't ever admit it out loud, but Piper rode up on horseback and saved me from death by tree branch like some kind of fairytale prince. I'm not sure how to reverse our roles. Or why I really, really want to. "By the way, I can't wait to meet Fallon. And Ledger. Meeting your family will give me more insight on you."

Not bloody likely.

"And I can't wait to see how they're running my resort into the ground." Cramming the last few bites of my sandwich into my mouth, I dust the crumbs off of my pants and reach for my coffee, heading off toward the elevator to grab my things. "I'll leave you to pack. Meet me in the lobby in exactly one hour."

Piper starts to protest at the lack of time, but I slam my palm onto the door button, shutting it before she can get a complete sentence out. As I round up my last few toiletries, I find myself wondering why I'm not relieved. I got exactly what I wanted. I get to make Oscar happy by seeing the resort in person. I get to make Fallon and Ledger happy by alleviating some of the pressure they've been under. And, I'll have Piper by my side for the entire weekend, which will keep me happy and keep her away from Elijah. Piper deserves the best, and while I'm sure Elijah is a nice enough guy, he is not the best. I'd hate to see her fall for someone not worthy of her time when it comes to her end game. I know she wants to be married and have a family someday.

And while I can't really understand that, I can respect it.

When I get down to the lobby, I find that Piper is already waiting for me. Her rolling suitcase stands at attention next to her calf, alongside the leather messenger bag I insisted on buying her last Christmas. I hated the idea of her carrying my documents around in a regular old canvas tote. It also looks really nice on her, bringing out the warm tones in her hair, or whatever the salesperson told me. Our front desk concierge, Bill, who has worked the day shift here since the building was built twenty years ago, flags me over with a wave of his hand. He lets me know that the rental agency dropped the car off a few minutes ago and left a key here for me. Piper snickers, and I shoot her daggers.

It's not that I'm a bad driver. I just don't like doing it. I have a lot going on at any given point in time. I need to be able to answer calls, send emails, and write down my ideas. None of that meshes with having to keep my eyes on the road and my hands at ten and two while I'm forced to stare at my cheapest watch. And yes, I may have had a lot of tickets and fender benders in the last decade. There's a good chance I'm one rear ending away from a suspended license. All of this means that Piper insists on being behind the wheel everywhere we go, and I've never fought her on it. It just makes sense.

She lets me maintain my dignity in front of Bill by waiting until after we walk away from the desk to swipe the keys from my hand. As I hand them over, our fingers brush—a fleeting contact that sends a jolt up my arm. The surprise in her eyes mirrors my own. A small, uncertain smile flickers between us, a silent acknowledgment of something neither of us is ready to voice.

There's a nondescript green SUV waiting for us outside, and we pile our suitcases into the back before climbing in and starting the car.

"I'm really excited to see the resort." Buckling her seatbelt, she turns in her seat, taking a moment to look me in the eyes. "I've heard so much about it, and the town, and your whole family. It'll be really interesting to see where Tate Story, notoriously secretive billionaire entrepreneur, got his start. And even more exciting, what makes him tick."

My family or, God forbid, my childhood, are the last things I want to talk about on this car ride. I change the subject as I fiddle with the AC vent alignment in the passenger seat. "I noticed your suitcase seemed a little heavy for a three-day weekend. Are you making plans I should know about?"

"Please. This was never going to be just a long weekend. You're going to want to make improvements. It's what you do. I can promise you that we're going to end up staying longer than three days," she shrugs, as if staying there is something I want to do at all, let alone for any longer than I absolutely have to. Checking her side view mirror, she starts to pull away from the loading zone in front of the building and out onto the street.

"Not a chance. After seventy-two hours out there, I'll be dying to get back into the city. By the way," I trail off, toying with the vinyl of my seatbelt and looking anywhere but at Piper's face. This is the hard part that I didn't tell her about. This is the really big favor. "No one knows that I own the place, so make sure you keep it under wraps."

She rolls her eyes. "What else don't they know?"

I make a sweeping gesture toward my tennis shoe clad feet. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead out of Italian loafers. "That I'm rich."

Pumping the brakes a little too hard at a stop sign, the car comes to a halt. Piper turns to stare at me in equal parts anger and amusement. "So basically, your family has no idea who you are?"

"Right, but I mean…" The force of her stare is too much, and I feel my confidence starting to waver. "Aren't all families like that?"

"No," Piper sighs, shaking her head as she pulls out into traffic, starting the journey toward my childhood home. "No, they aren't."

I cross my arms over my chest. "You're probably right. I guess it's just what I know."

"And that's okay." Her voice softer now, as if she's suddenly aware she might have hit a nerve. The freeway stretches ahead, miles and miles of gray asphalt.

Silence settles between us, thick and introspective. It's a silence filled with the hum of the SUV and my own scattered thoughts ricocheting like pinballs. I watch the landscape morph from urban sprawl to pastoral tranquility, each mile bringing me closer to a past I've compartmentalized and neatly stored away.

The idea of returning, of seeing the resort again—it's like standing on the edge of two realities. The businessman in me sees assets and potential revenue; the prodigal son sees shadows of laughter, scraped knees, and the uncomplicated joy of summers spent lakeside.

"I know this isn't easy for you," Piper's voice cuts through my reverie, gentle yet firm. "Going back to a place filled with so many memories, good and bad... it's a lot. But maybe, just maybe, this could be good, Tate. Healing, even."

I glance at her, struck by her empathy and the earnestness in her eyes. "You think so?" I manage, the skepticism in my voice belying a hope I'm not comfortable admitting.

"I do," she affirms with a nod, turning her attention back to the road. "Sometimes confronting the past is the only way to truly move forward. And who knows? They might surprise you. Families have a way of doing that."

The closer we get, the tighter the coil in my stomach winds. Each mile marker is a countdown to confrontation, not just with my family but with a past I've compartmentalized neatly into boxes—boxes I'm now forced to unpack. The hum of the tires on the pavement, a sound I once found soothing, now feels like an alarm bell going off in my head.

Piper's voice cuts through the growing tension inside me. "What was your favorite part about summers here?" It's a simple question, laden with traps. I stiffen, the words catching like barbs.

"Survival," I reply tersely, then immediately regret the harshness in my voice. She's only trying to understand, and to offer support, not knowing she's treading on a minefield of memories best left undisturbed.

Instead of elaborating, I turn my head and offer a warm smile that she returns.

Whatever lies ahead, I'm not facing it alone. And as we drive under the archway, marking the boundary between my past and my present, I realize that maybe, just maybe, coming back isn't about revisiting old ghosts, but about forging new paths from old stones.