A Matter of Trust(59)

“I was going to say as long as your brother is okay. But that too.”

She managed a wry smile, and he didn’t waver from her gaze. He suddenly reached out and touched her hand, squeezed.

His expression turned solemn. “I’m going to get you down this mountain in one piece. And you might even have fun doing it.”

His touch on her hand sent warmth through her entire body. Not unlike the effect it had last night, when he cupped her cheek, thumbed away her tear.

She’d nearly kissed him when he told her that they’d be okay. In that moment, she’d believed him.

Now, she squeezed his hand back, wanting to believe him again. “Okay.”

“That’s the girl I remember.” Then he let her go and turned back to the stove to light it.

But his words had ignited something inside, and if he kept it up, there was no way she would make it down the mountain in one piece. Not if, at the end, he walked away with her heart.

He boiled water while she packed up her sleeping bag, zipped up her jacket, pulled on her boots, and took a hygiene trip outside. He had a tidy breakfast assembled when she returned, including power bars and instant coffee. He’d also packed his gear.

“So, how’s it looking out there?” he asked as he pulled on his boots.

“White,” she said.

He grinned, and all of a sudden, it was the kind of grin he gave the cameras after a triumphant run, something that would grace magazine covers and posters and not a few sponsor webpages. Only this one was better—it included a twinkle in his brown eyes, the tiny huff of laughter, deep and low in his chest.

Oh my, 3-D Gage Watson was worth the trip up the mountain. Exactly what she’d told herself three years ago.

“I’ll dig us out,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready for the tent to come down.” He pulled his pack out with him.

He climbed out, and she finished her power bar and the coffee, then capped the canister, packed the rest of her gear, and set her pack outside the tent. She zipped up her jacket and added her helmet. “Coming out!”

His gloved hand appeared to pull her from the tent. She scooted out and let him help her up.

The wind hit her hard, and she grabbed his arms.

“It’s still a bit gusty!” he yelled. He wore his helmet and his goggles, and she pulled her goggles down and nudged her neck gaiter to her nose.

Despite the cold, the glory of the world dropping at her feet could steal her breath. “Great is the Lord and worthy of praise,” she said.

Gage was taking down the tent, but he looked over at her. Smiled. “You said that before. Right before we skied Redemption Ridge.” He leaned toward her. “And killed it.”

“It is pretty mind-blowing,” she said, trying to tamp down the adrenaline raking through her.

From her perch, the mountain looked like it dropped straight down into nothing.

He tucked the tent into the tiny bag. “We’ll take it one section at a time. Just like I did. Nothing fancy.”

She looked at him. “Oh, please, Gage. You have fancy in your soul. And I know it’s itching to come out.”

He raised an eyebrow, but one side of his mouth ticked up.

She retrieved her snowboard. “Help me get this pack on.”

He had tucked the tent into his pack and now lifted hers, and she climbed into the shoulder straps, then connected the straps at her waist.

He hiked his on and strapped it tight around him.

Then they stood together at the top of the mountain. “I sort of feel like we should pray or something,” she said.

He glanced at her, held her gaze. Then he held out his hand.

Really? She met his grasp.

“God. You know we’re here. You know what we have to do. Make us smart. Brave. Sensible. And keep us safe. Help us find Oliver and Bradley. Amen.”

She hadn’t even closed her eyes; she just watched Gage, listened to his words.

Bold as he approached the throne of the Almighty.

Huh.

She dropped her board, strapped in, and he did the same.

“Okay, we’re going to follow this wedge down into a nice bowl. It’s steep, so we want to take it slow, but we’ll work our way down to the Weeping Wall. And then, from there, the Great White Throne. We’ll hit the cave by lunch, probably.”

“Got it.”

He held up his fist for a bump, and she met it. However, a line of sweat formed at the back of her neck as she watched Gage traverse the hill, slowly, warming up. He cut a beautiful, arching line through the fresh powder, and it bloomed up behind him, a crystalline plume of light and color.

The master at work. If only she had a GoPro.

She hopped in place, trying to get the blood flowing, then eased down after him, her arms out.