A Matter of Trust(86)

Ella loved him.

She leaned into his touch, surrendering into him, and he moved his hand behind her neck, scooted closer, and deepened his kiss.

And wow, he loved her back. The fullness of it rushed over him, took hold. Yes, they’d get off this mountain and then . . . then . . .

Kissing Ella tasted like the past he’d lost, the cheers and dreams and epic heights of being a champion, and yet . . . so much more. She was kissing the man he’d been but also the man he wanted to be. The man trying to break free of his regrets, reaching out to freedom, forgiveness, a fresh start.

A man who longed for tomorrow.

Suddenly, that old stir of adventure, of abandon ignited inside him. Cascaded through him, caught fire.

He leaned away from her, caught her eyes. “Ella. I don’t know what it is about you, but seeing you again has made me wonder if maybe . . . I don’t know. I’ve been stuck. Like I never really escaped that avalanche, but I was afraid to dig myself out because I knew that I didn’t have a right to start over, be free. But then you said . . . you said that you wanted to believe in a God who was on our side.” His eyes burned, and he blinked away the smoke.

“The thing is, I haven’t exactly been on my knees much after Dylan’s accident. In fact, I’ve been pretty mad at God. See, God and I had a deal. I knew the danger and I could handle it. I didn’t expect God to rescue me. Then Dylan came along, and I thought that since I was trying to actually protect him that God would have my back. But he didn’t—and Dylan died. And it felt like God broke the deal.”

“God doesn’t make deals.”

“I know. But I never thought that doing something I thought was right would backfire . . . and when it did . . .”

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t trust God.”

He looked away. “Yeah. And why would God help someone who didn’t trust him? I don’t deserve his help.”

He reached out, caught her hand, and laced his fingers through hers.

“But then God saved us from an avalanche, and helped us find Bradley, and even kept your brother alive . . . and maybe we’re not alone out here.”

He stared at her hand in his.

“I grew up with parents who told me that my life mattered—and to go do something about that. And then I landed inside my own limelight, and it blinded me. I forgot who I was and why I was there. I started to believe that my fame was about me. And then when it began to drown me, I labeled it as evil. But what if—what if it wasn’t? What if I was supposed to use it for good?”

“To whom much is given . . .” she said softly.

He frowned at her.

“It’s something my parents used to say.”

“Hmm. I was thinking . . . Maybe I could start competing again and . . .” He turned to face her. . “You could come with me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like a groupie?”

“Like . . . a girlfriend. Or . . .” He swallowed.

She caught her breath, and her widened eyes suggested that he might be bombing the hill, picking up too much speed.

Clearly, yes, because she pulled away. “Wait, Gage, you have to know something. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you . . .”

Her tone stilled him. Oh no. “You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

“What? No. Just . . .” She closed her eyes. Winced.

Her expression shot a chill through him. “You’re scaring me a little here, El. What’s going on?”

“Please, let me get this out.” Her low tone sounded more like a prayer than a request to him. Then she blew out a breath and looked at the flames of the fire.

And now he was freaking out.

“There’s something you need to know about the civil case.”

He let out a sigh. That was what the fuss was all about? “No, Ella, let’s not talk about that. It’s behind us—”

“You weren’t to blame for Dylan’s death.”

Huh?

She swallowed, met his gaze. “Dylan McMahon had marijuana in his system when he went down Terminator Wall.”

He couldn’t breathe; her words were a blow right to the center of his solar plexus.

“What? How do you know that?”

She cringed then. “Oh, Gage, I’m so sorry. You deserved to know, but I wasn’t allowed to tell you. Even now, it’s in violation of my code of ethics, but I just can’t bear you believing you’re at fault. You didn’t cause Dylan’s death.”

He frowned at her words. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did. I shouldn’t have let him go down the Wall.”

“He told you himself that he would go without you. What choice did you have?”