Kipling deliberately inhaled, giving himself time to think before speaking.
“That’s a great opportunity,” he said slowly. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”
“I know what I’m doing. I love the work, and I want to stay in Fool’s Gold permanently.”
“You’re more than capable of making a decision about this on your own. I’m just asking that you think it through. You haven’t been here that long. You’re coming off a very difficult emotional loss. Buying into a business is a big responsibility. What if you and Amber want different things for the business? It won’t be just a job anymore. You can’t quit and walk away.”
“I don’t walk away,” she snapped. “I don’t leave. I stay where I am.”
He told himself not to take her comments personally. That she wasn’t talking about his leaving. Because he had left. When he’d gotten the opportunity to work with his ski coach, he’d jumped at it. He’d been all of fourteen. Shelby had been a half dozen years younger. He’d told himself she would be safe. Mostly because their father hadn’t started hitting her yet.
“I worry because you lead with your heart,” he told her gently. “I worry because I want you to be sure you’re doing what you want and not simply acting to help Amber. Helping a friend is a good thing, but in this case it could tie you to something permanently.”
She sagged back in her seat, as if the fight had gone out of her. “I know you care. I love you, too. But, Kipling, you have to stop taking care of me. I’m not one of your projects. I don’t need fixing.”
“Fair enough. I won’t try. Besides, there’s no point in fixing what isn’t broken.”
She reached across the table and patted his hand. “Thank you. You’re a good brother.”
“One of the best.”
She laughed. “Now you’re annoying me on purpose. Do you think that’s safe?”
“I trust you, kid.”
“You’ve known me all my life.”
“And most of mine. In fact, I can’t remember when you weren’t around.”
She leaned toward him. “I had lunch with Destiny and her sister a couple of days ago. There was a group of us. She’s nice and everything, but I get the impression she and her sister aren’t close.”Kipling picked up his glass of wine as a way to buy time. He wasn’t sure what to say. A case could be made that he owed Destiny nothing. Only that wasn’t true. He liked her, and he’d kissed her. He was hoping for a lot more, in the “let’s get physical” department. But more than that, he figured the secret was hers to tell or not.
“I don’t know exactly how she and Starr ended up together,” he said casually. “But she mentioned something about them not knowing each other. They’re half sisters, through their father. Starr’s mom died a while ago.”
Shelby blinked. “Seriously? That’s just like us. Half siblings through our father, and I lost my mom last year.”
“Except we grew up together.”
“Yeah, that would change things. I can’t imagine having a sister I didn’t know.”
He couldn’t, either. Although he did understand family estrangement. His father was currently sitting in prison for various crimes, beyond beating his daughter. He would be there a long time, and Kipling had no plans to go see him.
As a teenager, he’d worried about how much of his father he carried with him. Was his father’s darkness like a hibernating monster that would wake with no warning? Because there was no other way to describe a man who beat his daughter.
He’d been afraid he would one day wake up and feel the dark violence growing inside him. Finally, he’d talked to his coach about what he’d seen at home and what he feared.
As always, the advice had been honest and practical.
“Have you ever wanted to hit a woman?”
Kipling remembered being both shocked and humiliated by the question. “Hell, no.”
“If you do, go get help. Immediately. Find a shrink. Get on medication. Whatever it takes. You can’t choose where you come from, but you can decide how you’re going to deal with it.”
Kipling had vowed he wouldn’t let himself turn into his father, no matter what it cost him. The promise had turned out to be easy to keep. He’d been angry to the point of rage and had never once felt the need to raise his hand to anyone. If there was a genetic component to violence, he’d managed to dodge that bullet. If it was the result of nurture, he would guess the skiing had saved him. Either way, he was grateful.
He thought maybe part of the reason was his connection to the mountains. Flying over snow took a discipline that forced him to control himself. Every action had an immediate consequence, and when he screwed up, the results, or disasters, were unforgiving.
He wondered what Destiny had gone through, growing up as she had. Which demons had she escaped, and which did she carry with her?
Later, after he and Shelby had finished their dinner, he walked back to the town house he’d rented. It was still light, and there were plenty of people out enjoying the evening. He nodded and called out greetings, but kept moving. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now.
Restlessness pulled at him. He recognized it and knew the cause. Before the accident, the solution would have been easy—hop on a plane and go find a mountain. Get to the top and ski down. That was all. The simple act of movement against snow would take care of the problem.