Saved by the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 2) (18 page)

I softened my voice a touch, the irritation still obvious. “I know why you said those things to Rick, and I don’t blame you. I probably overreacted a bit...” I could give him that much, even though it took a lot of willpower to put forth that apology. His posture relaxed a bit. “I’m sorry. I can’t get past it. I can’t let you back into my life. If even a fraction of what I read was true...”

The gondola began to level out and I got to my feet, facing the door so I could run out as quickly as possible. “Liz, please. I’m sorry. I haven’t told you everything, if you could just—”

I looked at him, his eyes filling with sadness. “I listened. I still don’t care.” The doors slid open and I stepped out, not even waiting for the liftie to hand me my skis. I pulled them quickly from the basket and walked to the central point at the top of the mountain. By the time Bryan had caught up, I was stepping into my bindings and pushing away.

“Liz, wait!”

I glanced back and saw him scrambling into his skis.
He won’t follow me down a diamond run
, I thought. I was in the open and completely visible, several trails dropping off to the right like exits on a highway. He could easily catch up unless I made my decision now. While I usually liked to warm up on beginner trails, given the circumstances, I thought I’d push myself to get away.

With a quick step to the right, I flung myself down the first drop on a diamond run called the Elk Horn. A memory popped to the surface of the first time Kayla had brought me to the top, the way I’d screamed when I’d first witnessed someone heading down the mountain with a little speed. Only a few short months later, I’d conquered that fear, and then some.

The snow was usually hard and unforgiving on this side of the mountain, but that morning, it was quite variable. Without the break of the trees, the headwall quickly turned to rock in the relentless winds but it was now coupled with warm weather. I dodged around and through patches of grabby snow and sheets of ice. While nothing compared to the skis Bryan was using, mine were well-equipped to hold a controlling edge. I quickly descended through the initial drop, took a wide turn and looked back up the hill. Bryan stood at the top, watching me, obviously debating whether or not to follow. As if to answer his question, I pressed forward, tucking into a tight ball to put even more distance between us.
Don’t bother, you can’t catch me
, I wanted my gesture to say. If only he’d been able to read my body language.

After another few sharp turns I glanced back again, this time seeing his dark figure racing towards me. He looked unsteady, his injured leg obviously weaker than his other. His turns were awkward, almost uncontrolled. Bryan flung his arms out like a beginner fighting for balance, but he attacked the hill with the aggression of an expert.
He’s going too fast
. He hit a patch of ice, the loud scratch of the skis tearing through the silence. I skated to a stop on the edge of the trail. If I kept going and he hurt himself, I’d feel so responsible. When I stopped, he slowed his descent noticeably, which was quite a relief.

As he drew closer, I saw he was actually smiling. “You’ve gotten so good,” he said with a pant. He skated to a stop with a grimace, the world around us almost deafeningly silent. “I can’t believe the difference.”

“Please, don’t try to keep up. You know you can’t. I don’t say that to hurt you, Bryan,” I pleaded with him, hoping he didn’t take it the wrong way, but he did. The smile disappeared from his face and I felt like I’d just slapped him. It was so frustrating! As much as I tried not to let him get to me, he did, even with the quick downturn of his mouth. “Ugh,” I groaned, flapping my arms. “I don’t care. Do whatever you want. You apparently will anyway.”

“Liz!”

I pushed away, pointing my skis straight down the mountain to gain speed before carving quick turns into the snow. A bit further down the trail, the ice gave way to wet snow and the incline reduced. I forced myself to not look back. I’d learned pretty quickly that most of the trails on the mountain were easy enough once you got past the first drop. Even so, I didn’t ski the Elk Horn very often. Huge, looming pine trees dotted the trail, obstacles I hadn’t become accustomed to yet. To most people it seemed like good fun but for me, it was an unnecessary danger.

Bryan cried out in surprise. I looked back just in time to see him wobble again. Time began to move in slow motion. Something looked off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. As I remembered it later, I realized the scene looked bizarre because his ski had completely come loose. He wasn’t just wobbling to catch his balance. He was wobbling because he was trying to ski on one blade. Any other skier at his level, without an injury, would’ve found it easy to stop on one ski, but the weakness in his body prevented such a recovery. He couldn’t help but put his boot down, instantly catching on the snow and flipping him forward.

He hit the ground. Hard.

I clapped my hands over my mouth at the sound, a whimper escaping my throat. I stood motionless as I watched his body come to a skidding halt against the trunk of a tree. The jet black ski that had broken free flew past me, momentum propelling it down the hill.

He wasn’t moving.

I clicked out of my bindings and climbed the hill calling his name. He still wasn’t moving. My damn boots slipped in the snow so badly, I had to jam my toes into the slope and climb up on my tip-toes. He was easily seventy or eighty yards up and my muscles were already screaming for oxygen.

“Bryan! I’m coming. I’m here, I’m coming,” I cried out between breaths.

The silence of the forest closed in around me.
God, please scream. Do something. Say something
, I begged his lifeless form.

I kept moving, kept climbing, time freezing around me. I slipped and fell to my knees just as I saw movement from above. A skier appeared from around a small bend, coming down the slope. I waved my hands frantically, relief filling every single cell in my body.

“Please help! Please!” I ran towards Bryan, crying out for help, slipping with almost every step. The skier skated to a halt and looked at him, then to me wordlessly. With all the layers and safety equipment, only the graying beard gave me an indication of who they were. “Please get ski patrol. I think he’s hurt. Please.” He nodded and quickly sped away, his lips tightly pressed together.

I finally reached Bryan, falling to my knees beside him. His body was twisted horribly, one leg slung over the other at an awkward angle, his back pinned against the pine tree. I knew I shouldn’t move him but my hands hovered over his body, just wanting to touch and comfort him. I leaned forward and felt his hot breath, short and shallow, coming from his open mouth.

“Oh, thank God,” I sighed. “Bryan, I’m here. I’m here.”

The minutes felt like hours. I sat with him, holding his hand in mine, crying and talking to him in a low voice. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, alone on the mountain, until I heard the low roar of snowmobiles coming from below. He never opened his eyes.

My eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. I couldn’t, for the life of me, lift them to look around the room I was in. Instead, I allowed my consciousness to return to my other senses. The beeping of a monitor, the smell of disinfectant and heavily bleached bedsheets, the quiet padding of feet in the hallway beyond the door. Occasionally, a woman’s soft voice would speak over the intercom system. It was like a switch had been flipped. I’d been asleep, now I was awake, the full memory of the crash coming back to me. Whatever painkillers they had me on only dulled my body, not my brain.

I twitched my toes, wiggled my fingers, made sure I wasn’t paralyzed. A big part of me didn’t even want to try moving yet. Sure, I wasn’t paralyzed but I was afraid of what else I’d discover. A swell of panic burst in my chest as I was confronted with a memory I’d buried for many years.

After my first crash, I’d woken up in a similar room. When I opened my eyes, I’d found myself completely alone. My ex, my mother, my brother...they’d all taken turns watching over me but I’d chosen the exact moment they’d all stepped outside to wake up. Unlike this time, I’d had no recollection of what had put me in the hospital.

I’d sat up with a start, looking around the room in much the same way I might’ve during an alien abduction. My amnesia had stretched all the way back to the beginning of the day, so when I became conscious, I had no memory of the race, the crash, nothing. I’d torn the IVs from my arms as I climbed out of the bed, yelling for someone to come help. The racket had alerted my mom who was only outside the door. Before she had a chance to call for help, I’d fallen to the floor. The scream that had ripped from my throat at the impact brought a half dozen nurses into the room.

When they’d finally gotten me back in the bed and hooked up to the pain killers, my family gathered around me. In my hazy state, I looked from face to face, trying my hardest to focus. “Where’s dad?” I mumbled.

The look my brother had given my mom, the way her face fell at the question...that’s how I’d discovered my father was dead. Of course, I had no way of knowing the details, but I didn’t care. He was gone.

All of these memories hit me in quick succession. The smell of the hospital, the similarities, it was too much. With all the strength I could muster, I opened my eyes and looked around. Blinking at the bright room, I found Liz slumped against the edge of my bed, her head resting on her arm. I fought to keep my eyes open. I needed to let her know I was alright. A choked sound escaped my throat, a mixture of pain and relief on seeing her by my side.

“Hey,” she said drowsily as our eyes met. She scanned my face lovingly, as if searching for the reason we were together in the hospital. With a jump she perked up, her hand going to my cheek. “Hey, you’re alright. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m right here.” She spoke quickly, like the words had become a mantra.

I tried sitting up, struggling with my motor skills before slumping back. It was just as well because my head felt like it was packed with cotton. I quickly rocked back, my eyes falling shut as my head touched the pillow. “How long...” I fought to stay awake.

“Only a couple hours,” she said smoothing the hair from my eyes.

I let out a sigh of relief.
Good. Not like last time
. I licked my dry lips slowly, trying to wet my throat enough to talk. “They’ve got me on some pretty good shit,” I mumbled. “How bad is it?”

Her hand paused on my skin. “You took a pretty hard hit to the head and you broke your arm. There’s also a substantial amount of swelling around your previous injuries, so they want to make sure you haven’t done any further damage.”

The haze of the drugs was wearing away with each passing minute and in its place, pain. I welcomed the ache if it meant she’d stay. Random memories of Liz sitting with me on the mountain. Despite the pain, I smiled. “You said you didn’t care,” I said with my eyes closed.

“You asshole,” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “You didn’t have to try killing yourself to get me to talk to you, you know.” Her voice was soft, kind.
I must’ve really scared her
, I thought. “You actually cracked your helmet in half. You probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for...hey, careful there.”

I tried to sit up again but the world became a spinning mess. I fell back onto my elbow with a groan, fighting to keep my eyes focused on her worried face. “I need to talk to you,” I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the world moving.

“Hey hey, take it easy. Maybe you should take a little nap. I’ll be here when you wake up,” she soothed.

“No, I’ve waited long enough.” I wiped my face with my hand, the IV pricking inside my skin with the movement. “Just please stay. Please...”

“Alright, okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I let my body relax into the cottony feeling, rather than fight it. Within moments, I was in a blissful state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. It almost felt like being drunk, the way my inhibitions had disappeared and I felt okay with the world. Even though I was never the type to believe in fate or things happening for a reason, it seemed almost meant to be that I’d end up here with her. Just as Liz had as I’d bandaged her wounds, I began to ramble. All my fear and worry about how to start, where to begin, didn’t exist in this hazy place. I simply spoke, albeit with a little slur, concentrating on the feeling of her hand in mine.

“My dad had been a competitive skier until he blew out his ACL walking down a set of icy stairs. He had me on the slopes when I was four. He never stopped pushing me, even then. I had to be better, faster, tighter. I mean, I had fun, but skiing was never something I did just for the joy of it. It was as big a part of my life as school—no, bigger. Dad would pull me out of school on powder days.”