“She’s good. She’s . . . really good. But, yeah, we have Angel’s Wings and Cathedral Canyon coming up, and . . .”
“It’s not going to get any easier,” Pete said.
Ella was tucking the tent into the case, and if she heard them, she didn’t make a move to glance his direction. Still, she radiated worry in her tight, fast movements.
He could just imagine the fight she’d wage against him if he suggested her leaving.
Still . . .
“I don’t know. If I find him, I might need her help. Especially if we have to ski him down.”
A voice cut through the radio. “Brooks, this is Chopper One., we’re ready for you. Better hurry, the wind’s picking up again.”
“Do we have another storm front heading in?” Gage asked.
“Winds, maybe some snow, but nothing like last night,” Pete said. “Hopefully, however, you won’t have to spend another night in the rough.” He picked up his walkie, looked at Gage. “Should I request a ride for two?”
“It’s up to Gage.” Ella had come up, her backpack over her shoulder.
Gage stared at her. “Did you hear us?”
“We’re in a cave. Acoustics are amazing.” She looked at Gage. “I trust you. I trust your decision, and I trust the fact that if you want me to go home, then you’ll get Ollie out.”
But he saw the red around her eyes, what it cost her to say that.
And for a second, he saw her waving from the chopper, leaving him alone on the hill.
He hated to admit it, but he liked her with him, following him, occasionally whooping when she took a cliff, or stopping next to him to marvel at the scenery. And yeah, while urgency pressed a hand to his back, he’d felt something loosen inside him as they’d ridden down. Since she’d looked at him with those beautiful blue-gray eyes and said, “I won’t get hurt. You’ll keep me safe.”
“We have a couple pretty intense areas coming up,” he said to her.
“I know. I saw the video of Angel’s Wings, but . . . I can do it. I promise. But only if . . . only if you want me to come with you.”
When she put it like that . . . “I want you to come with me,” he said softly. “But we’re going to ski fast and hard—”
“I know. And I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You’re not in my way, you’re . . .” The reason I’m here. In fact, knowing he was cutting her a line made him ski better, the responsibility of keeping her safe making him more cautious.
He probably should have had her in his life from the beginning. Because, with the exception of the slide, this might be the best line he’d ever carved.
For the first time in three years, he didn’t look backward and see his failures.
Now Gage looked at her standing there, holding the pack, her beautiful hair curling out from her headband, her eyes in his, trusting him.
He took a breath. “You should know—your friend Brette? She collapsed. Ty took her to the hospital.”
So maybe Ella hadn’t heard everything. Her mouth opened, and she turned to Pete. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Upset stomach.”
She breathed out, nodding. “She has that a lot. Had an ulcer a few years ago in college. She’ll be okay.” She looked at Gage. “It’s up to you. I’ll go back if you think I should.”
Huh. “I admit, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
She took a breath, then shook her head. “As much as I want to go with you—you know that—I trust you, Gage. I trust you to find my brother and bring him home.”
He nearly pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. However, if he did, he might never stop.
Instead, he looked at Pete. “That’s a ride for one.”
13
IT TOOK GAGE A MOMENT to center upon the feeling, to give it a name and let the realization find his bones.
Fear.
Gage stood at the apex of Angel’s Wings, listening to his pulse pump in his ears, trying not to betray the sweat that beaded along his neck, the fact his hard breathing might be because he’d forgotten the deep terror this section of the mountain induced.
He’d been young and oh so stupid the first time he’d run this. Hadn’t given a thought to broken bones or his body smashing against granite—
“It’s nearly straight down,” said Ella next to him. She was standing a few feet away, balanced back from the edge.
“I named it Angel’s Wings because the two granite slabs look like wings jutting out from the rock.” He pointed to the tiny prick of light almost two hundred yards down the trail between the wings. “That’s about five feet across. The wings narrow on the way down, and by then you have so much speed you simply fly out of the opening into this great white shelf.”