A Matter of Trust(48)

The wind shook the tent, and she tried not to think of where they were perched, the flimsy fabric and thin Kevlar wires that anchored them to the rock and ice. She found a Maglite and held it in her mouth between her teeth as she unlatched his sleeping bag, then rolled it out. She did the same with hers.

For a long moment she considered just what her mother would say about sharing her tent with Gage. But they’d sleep fully clothed, and, well . . .

Gage Watson was so angry at her, he was probably the last person who would entertain thoughts of romance.

Although, today, for a moment after she’d dropped off the cliff, he’d almost seemed . . . well, had seemed actually friendly. “Why don’t we just forget the past and ride?”

Wouldn’t that be nice? To just start over, meet each other anew? Discover the people they’d been before the accident, the civil suit, the betrayal.

Before her secrets.

Ella unzipped her jacket and pulled off her helmet. Then she slid into her sleeping bag as she rooted around in his pack for the stove. She found the attachable mug and unzipped the tent and packed the mug with snow. Gage had secured the snowboards to the rock and brought them up under the vestibule that he’d attached to the entrance. He then followed her into the tent and closed the door behind him, leaving on his headlamp for illumination.

“The sun is dropping like a rock—it’s getting black out there. And the snow is really coming down,” he said. He’d taken off his gloves and now blew on his reddened hands. “Must be twenty below out there.”

“And in here,” she said, lighting the stove.

“Not for long. The tent will warm up with our body heat.”

She didn’t look at him, not sure exactly what he meant. But she shouldn’t have worried, because Gage took off his boots, then climbed into his sleeping bag fully clothed. He worked off his helmet and his wet gaiter and clipped them to a hanging loft loop. Then he pulled out his walkie and stored it in a pocket on the wall.

The snow began to melt.

“I think Jess packed a dehydrated meal or two in there,” he said.

Ella dug through the pack and unearthed two meals.

“Beef stroganoff or chili mac?”

“Stroganoff. Hopefully we’ll get back before we have to dig into the chili mac. It’s more like chili paste.” He unzipped his jacket, pulled it off, and wadded it behind him for a pillow.

Underneath he wore a gray fleece pullover that shaped to his wide shoulders, his thick arms. He’d captured his trademark shoulder-length brown hair back into a low bun and now freed it, ran his fingers fast through it to untangle the snarls.

Then he pulled out his walkie and tried to call in to base. “Watson to PEAK, come back.”

He’d placed a call earlier today, shortly after they’d tracked Ollie’s trail off the cliff. Ella couldn’t help but wonder how Brette was faring with his PEAK friends. She had no doubt that within twenty-four hours, she’d have some brilliant story dug up about a daring rescue.

Brette did that—found the stories hidden inside people, dragged them out into the light.

Static answered Gage, and he tried a few more times to no avail.

“Probably the weather.”

“They’ll be worried,” Ella said as the water came to a boil. She poured it into the open pouch of stroganoff. Then she stirred the meal with a plastic spoon she’d found in a bag of essentials—salt, pepper, wipes. Thoughtful, that Jess.

“Maybe. We’ll get ahold of them first thing in the morning.”

“I hope Ollie’s found the cave.” She glanced at Gage, hoping for some reassurance.

“From his tracks, he’s handling the mountain better than I thought. If he’s following my line, he’ll be in the cave. He had a five-hour start on us. My guess is that they’re already hunkered down, asleep.”

Ella nodded, wishing she had his confidence. “I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I came out here hoping to talk him into going back to school. Maybe he’s trying to prove something to me.” She handed the pouch to Gage. “There’s no plates.”

He took the pouch and the proffered spoon and dug in. “It’s good.”

“That’s my specialty—adding water to food. You should taste my hot cocoa.”

“Yes, please,” he said and grinned at her.

Yeah, he was right. The temperature in the tent had warmed.

She opened the door again, retrieved more snow in the mug, and set it on the stove to melt.

He passed the pouch over to her, keeping his spoon, and she dug in with a fresh utensil. “Thanks.”

“You did well today. I . . . I’d forgotten how well you handle the powder, Ella.”