Saved by the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 2) (11 page)

He grew earnest, placing his hands on the work bench in front of me. “We can’t take your money, son. It’s a matter of pride. Your blood might be from here but people still just see you as...” he trailed off.

“The Blizzard, yeah, I know. Guess I can’t escape that, huh?” I said shaking my head.

“No son, and you shouldn’t try, either.”

____________

My hangover had mostly dissipated by the time I got home. The sun had long set and the house was dark. I cracked open a can of beer to hopefully rid myself of the final headache, maybe get an early start on the night. Self-medication is the best medication, right? I grabbed an extra because I knew I’d need it. I leaned against the counter and stared at my ski bag. I hadn’t been able to find the drive to get up to the mountain since the time I’d given Liz her first lesson. Furthest I seemed able to push my truck was to the Gritty Cask.

God, Liz...I’d messed up. Bad. The fact she wouldn’t even hear me out was what wrecked me the most. Even if she never spoke to me again, all I wanted was the chance to at least tell her my side of the story. Then she could hate me as much as she wanted.

It sounds a little stalker-ish, but I’d been keeping an eye on her, making sure she was as safe as possible. I’d even gone so far as to enlist people around her to help. Her roommate Morgan was a sweetheart and more than willing to help. Emily at the rental shop had a pretty big crush on me, which I could use to my advantage, although that one did leave me feeling a little guilty. One of Dale’s friends was a liftie and had told me she was out on the mountain now most days. Pretty girl like Liz, every guy knew who she was.

I took another sip of my beer and sat on the sofa, nearly in the dark. I switched on one of the last friends I had. A few days after our fight, I’d been poking through the cupboards in search of any form of alcohol I could use to drown my feelings. That’s when I’d stumbled across what I thought was a radio, but in fact, was a police scanner. With no TV or Internet, it was the closest thing to entertainment I had in the place. It felt nice to have voices in the house, as odd as that might sound.

Liz was as safe as I could ensure. As much as I disliked Kayla, I hoped she’d at least protect Liz from any real danger. Noah didn’t really bother me. Wealthy, entitled, but ultimately harmless. No, Rick was the real issue. He was the true danger, possibly more than we’d first thought. A few days after New Year’s, Officer Dylan had stopped by my house. Embarrassingly, he’d actually found me in quite a state.

“The guy checks out. He has a birth certificate, social security number, even a passport with stamps on it,” he’d said while standing in my doorway.

I’d been so drunk I’d had to hold myself up on the door frame. “Well, you can buy all those things, can’t you?”

“Yessir, but there’s more. He’s paid utilities in his name from a bank account that’s been open for over ten years,” he shook his head. “Listen, I believe he’s not who he says he is. I can smell it on him, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve heard of this happening and these sorts of identities don’t come cheap.”

“Shit,” I grumbled. “Please, just keep an eye on Liz. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but if he hurts her—”

“Until he steps out of line, there’s not much I can do. But I’ll do my best.”

“Yeah, yeah. What the hell
can
you do?” I’d snapped. He had the patience of a saint, letting yet another of my outbursts slide. With a tight expression, he gave me a nod and left me in my drunken stupor.

Thinking about it all made it worse, but I couldn’t stop. Slamming my fist down on the sofa, I let out a groan of frustration. I had to find some way to pick up the pieces. I’d come to Tellure Hollow to recover and somehow ended up feeling worse than ever before. Letting go of Liz didn’t just mean losing out on a great girl. It meant starting over from scratch, having to forget how wonderful I’d felt when I was with her, to go the rest of my life knowing she was out there and wondering how she was doing. Ever stubborn, I still hadn’t found a way to let go that easily.

I’d finished my first beer, even though I didn’t even remember drinking it all. My thirst still not quenched, I cracked open the second can and drank half in one gulp. It sloshed into my empty stomach, the fuzziness just starting to break through my depression.
I’ll take a shower and then head to the bar. I should probably at least eat something today
. I turned up the volume on the scanner, just wanting to feel a little connection with someone.

The following weeks flew by with surprising speed. I’d managed to smooth things over with Rick, at least temporarily. I was still as pure as the freshly driven snow, as Kayla loved to point out, but my birthday was fast approaching. We’d had a long talk that night, almost until the sun came up. I played the weak, scared girl who was afraid of going to jail. Whatever Rick is, it isn’t stupid. It took some pretty heavy convincing to get him to buy the story I was selling. I got through that night untouched, in every way. Ever the peacemaker, Kayla helped in the following days and soon life in the cabin evened out. I was safe, at least until my birthday.

Rick, under the pseudonym Steve, became a regular fixture at home. He came and went, leaving town to meet with his connections, returning with drugs they dumped into the sleepy mountain town. Noah and Kayla acted like nothing was ever going to go wrong, like the money was flowing from the taps. Morgan, by her very nature, was easygoing about the business which left Spencer and me on the outside. I couldn’t believe how brazen they were. I lost count of how many times I’d walked in on the three of them pushing pills and powders into bags like some kind of assembly line, right in the living room!

It shouldn’t have surprised me, really. Rick wasn’t afraid of anything. He’d been given a five year sentence and managed to get out after only a couple months, although I still had no idea how. Noah was a cocky, spoiled bastard who had never encountered a situation he couldn’t buy his way out of. He was a part of that upper echelon who never had to concern themselves with frivolous things like laws.

But Kayla. Kayla should’ve known better. Getting caught up in running and dealing had chased her out of Ashville in the first place. I didn’t understand her desire to push the envelope, take that risk again. To me, it seemed like she was working multiple angles. Sleeping with Noah, working at the mountain, possibly hooking up with his father,
and
dealing drugs? Why all of it? Contingency plans?

Despite my misgivings, I didn’t protest loudly or ask too many questions. I kept my head down and lurked around the house like a shadow, trying to keep the peace yet remain transparent. I took photos and I skied, that was what my life became. It was a nice existence, really. Peaceful and contemplative, maybe in the way prisoners feel when they’re allowed to walk around the yard. I’d managed to wiggle my way into a balanced place, but was always aware one shift could tip the scales out of my favor.

My only other friend I had in the first weeks of the new year was the weather. A good pattern in the jet stream had set up, meaning a few inches of fresh powder was dumped nearly every other day. I threw myself into it, taking the weather as a sign that if nothing else came from this season, I would emerge a good skier. Unfortunately, like the scales of my life, the weather pattern shifted. A warming trend began unseasonably early and it was all anyone could talk about at the lodge.

“The base is just melting away!”

“Damn climate change is making these seasons shorter every year.”

I woke up one morning and checked the conditions report on my phone while I lay in bed. Everything looked great across the board. All trails were open and the temps would be cool until mid-afternoon. The mountain had gotten a couple inches of snow that they’d left ungroomed on a few of my favorite trails, something I was growing to love as much as any of the locals.

I dressed in layers, prepared for the cold of the early hours and relative warmth of the afternoon. As I quickly made my way to the kitchen, I caught Kayla sneaking out of Noah’s room.

“Hey,” she said quietly as we met in the kitchen.

“Want to share a ride in today?” I stretched my hands over my head, my shoulder joints popping loudly. “I wanna get a couple runs in. I’ll bring the Jeep back when I’m done.”

Kayla rolled her eyes and pulled a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. “I wanted to be ski
bunnies
, not some type of downhill racers.”

“No one’s stopping you. You should come with me today. I’ll take you down a couple new trails you haven’t been on. I’m sure Mr. Richards wouldn’t mind you taking the camera out on a run or two.” It was a little bit of a dig. I’d surpassed Kayla’s ability pretty quickly. While she was concentrating on partying and drug smuggling, I’d been flinging myself down those diamond runs that had terrified me so much when I first arrived.

“I think Mr. Richards would be happier if I didn’t shatter all the equipment.”

I chuckled at the thought. “It’d make a pretty good video. I’m sure
that
would go viral.” Again, another dig. I guess I was feeling a little bitchy. Kayla would normally rise to the bait but that morning, she let each jab slip past without comment. “You should get one of those cameras that mounts on top of the helmet so you don’t even have to think about it.”

She tipped the can towards me in salute. “That’s not a bad idea, you know. Would you be willing to wear it? I could just use your footage and pretend it’s me,” she said as a smile spread across her face. “The wonders of editing software.”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” I said, glancing at the time on the microwave. It was still before dawn but the lifts opened early and I’d fallen in love with being one of the first people on the mountain. It’d replaced my yoga for morning meditation. “I’ll do whatever you want, as long as we can go in the next five minutes.”

“Deal.”

____________

The gondola swayed gently side to side as it ascended the mountain. The early morning wind barely blowing the snow from the pine branches below and around me. I sat facing the lodge, watching the world fall away, grow more distant. I enjoyed the feeling of my ears popping, the white noise of the cable and wheels. Alone in the small space, I felt cradled, rocked and comforted with nature all around.

The gondola began to level out a little bit and I zipped up my jacket. I stood and did a few stretches, working out any kinks. As the doors swung open, I snatched up my skis and nodded to the liftie. The sun was just starting to crest over the mountaintops.

I smiled to myself as I dropped the skis on the ground. Emily and I had become fast friends, settling into our own rhythm. She set my gear aside for me every day, the very first thing she did in the morning. I handed her a coffee, she handed me my rental equipment, and I managed to get out on the slopes first.
Bless that girl
, I thought.

Holding myself steady with the poles, I hooked my toe in the binding, slamming the heel down with a satisfying
click
. I repeated the movement with the other side and pushed myself forward. Most of the trails that started from the top of the mountain were at least intermediate but there was one beginner slope I adored. I skated towards the beginning of the Arapaho, savoring the cold air. The ungroomed trails could wait until my muscles were warm.

The skis flowed over the freshly groomed snow; the grooves in the white powder looked like a giant had just run a comb down the mountain. The slope began fairly flat, allowing me to warm up and gain speed at a steady pace. I made long, meandering turns, covering the entire width of the trail only because I could. I imagined the serpentine line cutting through the sharp, Zen garden-like design.

As the descent increased, so did my speed. I tightened my turns and leaned forward, pressing my shins against the front of my boots. I kept the skis as close together as possible, moving as though my legs were connected at the knee. I knew my form wasn’t the greatest, but it didn’t matter. I had all the time in the world to work on form, but this first run was where I let my natural ability run away with itself.

My favorite part about the Arapaho was the series of looping turns in the middle of the trail. While still wide enough to accommodate a gaggle of beginners, the inside corners were tight and steep. A giddy joy bubbled in my chest as I hugged the first one, zooming around the ridge so close I could’ve reached out and touched the rock face. I crouched into a squat, tucking my poles under my arms, and dove straight for the second turn. Like a hot knife through butter, my edges carved through the snow without even a hint of a wobble.