A Matter of Trust(49)
She couldn’t look at him. “I’m pretty sore.”
“Well, me too. I haven’t been freeriding . . . well, not since Outlaw, really.”
Oh. She didn’t know where to go with that. “You came home, though, and started working on the rescue team?”
“No. I came home and my dad wanted me to go to college. I think he thought that snowboarding was a well-funded hobby. But I never wanted what he saw for me—medicine. Becoming a doctor. It was his fault—he started me snowboarding when I was three. I was never meant for college.” He shook his head, reached for the pack, and rummaged around.
“I hooked up with PEAK Rescue about two years ago because of Ty. He was flying the chopper for them at the time and told me they needed an EMT. I went to classes at the local community college, got my basic EMT, and started working rescues. The ski patrol was an easy jump from there.”
He’d found the cocoa and now poured two packets into the hot water, stirred it with a knife. “Sorry, only one mug.” He turned off the stove.
“It’s fine,” she said and handed him back the pouch, now empty. The stroganoff had heated her core, and when she chased it with the hot cocoa, yeah, she might live.
Especially with her and Gage finding new footing. Maybe he was right—they should put the past behind them, just stay focused on their goal.
“How about you? Still working at your law firm?”
She shook her head. “No. I resigned, nearly right after . . .”
He looked up at her, frowned. “Why?”
He had such pretty eyes, the kind that could hold her fast, drag truths from her. She looked away. “Uh, well, my mom got sick.”
“Oh, Ella, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Breast cancer. She’s doing okay now, but she was a state senator, in our Vermont congress.”
“I remember that.” He took the cocoa she offered and took a sip. “Mmm.”
“I know, right?” She folded up the garbage, put it in the plastic bag. “Anyway, Mom suggested I fill her shoes, so I stepped in, got elected by a special call election, and served out her term. It ends this year.”
“Seriously? You’re a state senator?”
“It’s not that exciting. I mostly give speeches and sit in meetings.” She made a face. “Actually, I’m trying to decide if I want to run for reelection. I don’t know.”
“But you always wanted to do something to help people—I remember that part. You were going to defend the weak and save the world.”
“Yeah. Well, the world doesn’t want to be saved, I don’t think. I recently tried to filibuster to block a bill vote on the recreational use of marijuana, but it didn’t work.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m spinning my wheels, working hard for something that doesn’t matter. No one is listening, no one cares.”
He handed her the cocoa. “Finish it.”
She took it, and felt the heat of his hand lingering on the container.
“Sort of like your brother?” Gage said softly.
She looked up at him. “Yeah. I can’t believe he would do this—risk lives. Ours, his, Bradley’s. But now I’m wondering if I worried for nothing—he’s clearly fine. I shouldn’t have dragged you out here.”
“You were worried. I get that—we panic when we’re worried. And that emotion clouds our judgment.” He dismantled the stove. “Like when I saw Dylan go off that cliff—I couldn’t think of anything but getting to him. I’d seen other people live, despite the fall, landing in thirty feet of spongy powder. So I cleared the cliff as fast as I could, saw where Dylan landed, and then . . . that’s when I heard it. The thunder of the avalanche that Dylan had dragged from the cornice when he went off. It unlatched and then . . .”
“I know. I watched it on live feed,” she said quietly.
He looked up, met her eyes, and for a second, silence fell between them.
“Yeah. Right, well . . .” He shoved the stove into his pack.
“I watched you try to out-ski it, and you were amazing. The way you kept riding it, even when it caught you . . . and then you vanished.” She pressed her hand to her mouth.
“It was pretty terrifying,” he said, drawing in a breath. “It just swept me up like a wave, and I was just . . . helpless. The snow washed over me, and I couldn’t breathe. And then, just like that, it stopped. Everything went eerily quiet. And that’s when I realized I was stuck. Entombed.”
She held her breath. Entombed.
He wasn’t looking at her now; he was someplace distant even as he spoke. “I’ve never been so alone as I was then. Truly buried alive.” He drew in a shuddered breath. “Even though I wore an avalanche detector, I had to tell myself not to panic, to slow my breathing. Had to believe that they would find me.”