“Gage.”
“No. We shouldn’t be here. This is no good.” He closed his eyes, shook his head.
And that was why he didn’t see her roll to her knees and grab the front of his jacket. But, a second before she kissed him, he opened his eyes and saw her intent.
“Ella—”
She pressed her lips against his, sweetly, her gloves fisted in his jacket.
He didn’t move, so shocked by her touch . . .
And then, he found his bearing, the place he wanted to be. The place he’d wanted to be for three long years.
With Ella.
Right here in her embrace.
She tasted of the morning coffee, the sense of adrenaline and fear and adventure, her kiss so fresh and crisp and alive, he lost himself a little.
She slid her arms around him, and he wove his fingers in her hair, put his arm around her shoulders as he leaned her back, cradling her in the snow.
She relaxed, moved her arms up to rest on his shoulders. He felt a smile curve her lips.
And it only made him deepen his kiss, his heartbeat slowing, finally. The world stopped around him, and the moment cocooned him, blotting out the avalanche, the gusting wind, the worry for Oliver.
Yes, here he belonged.
He finally leaned up and found her beautiful eyes. “Wow, I missed you.”
She smiled, her eyes a pale blue to match the sky. “I never stopped thinking about you, Gage. Never.”
He leaned back in, covered her mouth with his.
He could stay here all day, all year, until the thaw found them on top of the mountain.
And then they could simply hike down. Instead of risking Ella’s pretty neck on yet another cliff, another avalanche, a run through the trees that could impale her.
He winced and pulled away from her, rolling over.
“What is it?” She sat up. “Are you hurt?”
“We have to find your brother and get off this mountain.” He met her eyes. “Alive, preferably.”
“We will, Gage. I don’t believe in luck. I believe in courage. And loyalty. And you. I believe in you. And I want to believe that God is on our side, despite our mistakes. Don’t you?”
He looked up at her, swallowed. Nodded.
“Okay, then, get up and figure out our line.”
He stared at her, and she raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a little bossy, you know.”
“Mmmhmm.” She reached for her backpack. “Want a power bar?”
He probably didn’t need one, since, at the moment, he felt downright invincible. But he nodded as he stood up to study the hill. They could ride the ridge down, drop down a wall of cascading cliffs smaller than the Great White Throne, then down what looked like a chute of white, between two walls of granite and . . . “Ella, you’re not going to believe this, but we’re right above the cave. This is a shortcut.”
She handed him a power bar. “Well done, champ.”
He grinned at her and sat down in the snow, tearing open the snack. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his walkie.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking in with PEAK, telling them we’re okay. And that we are going to get off this mountain alive.”
Someone needed to get out into the backcountry and start searching from the bottom. The thought came to Ty as he listened to Gage’s second transmission, an update about the avalanche they’d narrowly escaped.
No, it came to him as he watched Brette push away Sierra’s homemade tomato soup and ignore the grilled cheese sandwiches. She sat on the sofa, her arms around her stomach, gritting her teeth, looking pained, probably at the thought of her best friend outrunning a slide.
Not to mention all the other perils awaiting them as they headed further down Heaven’s Peak. Like Angel’s Wings, a thin couloir in the rock that ran two hundred yards straight down through two towering granite cliffs, so close together that if he and Ella deviated one foot, they’d crash into the side. Or Cathedral Canyon, the vast pine forest that littered the backside of the peak near the final descent.
Ty had watched Gage’s video a few hundred times back in the day when he realized the guy came from Mercy Falls. Back then, however, Ty’s life had been full of trips to Vail or Steamboat Springs—no backcountry skiing for his family.
No, he’d been too busy keeping up with Selene Taggert and her brother, Barron, and their circle of New York friends. Ty Remington, the wealthy rancher’s kid from Montana, hobnobbing with the page six crowd.
Brette’s words from last night hung in his head. “Entitled. Selfish. The world revolves around them, and they’ll take anyone down to keep it that way.” Her comments about the class of people that he came from.
He’d kept his mouth shut.
After all, he wasn’t that guy anymore. Not since the accident, really.