A Matter of Trust(92)

“Pete and Ty!” she yelled.

He didn’t answer her, so she looked back. “Pete and Ty are below!” She pointed down.

But he was looking at her. “Turn, Ella! Turn!”

She whirled around and saw the lip of the bowl coming up, too fast. She cut hard, fighting to bring Ollie’s feet around, but the action swung the sled around too hard.

Like a whip, Gage flew over the edge, taking Ollie with him.

“Gage!”

Her grip on the backpack strap twisted her around, hard, and in a second she landed on her backside, the strap ripping out of her glove.

But she didn’t have time to call out, because the force of it turned her over, and suddenly, she was sliding.

Face first, down the mountain, plowing into the thick powder.

This was how people ended up in tree wells, buried head first, never to be seen again. She rolled her feet up and around in a moment, edged her board hard into the slope.

Too hard. A burn shot into her ankle, lighting it afire, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out.

But the scream disappeared into the frothy white silence of the powder still drifting down around her.

She lay there a moment, unmoving.

And then, “Ollie!”

She pushed herself up and barely made out the pair of them. Gage had flown into the next bowl, a thick, powdered section riddled with trees and rocks. No doubt that without his charge, Gage could easily handle the terrain, maybe even turn the run into something spectacular.

But not now. Now he flew down the hill backward, dragging Ollie behind him.

Oh Gage. She watched, stranded, her heart thundering as he fought his way down the steep slope, clearly trying to slow them down or even stop. But the board ran with a mind of its own. Gage barely steered them around trees and boulders.

Then, in what seemed a superhuman move, Gage managed to swing the sled around, maneuver himself behind it.

And slow them to a stop.

He bent over, breathing hard, halfway down the slope.

She let out the breath she’d been holding.

Then, suddenly, he looked up as if searching for her.

“I’m over here!” She tried to push to her feet, but her ankle screamed in pain, so she stayed on her knees, waving. “I’m fine!”

Just a little lie, but maybe he’d heard her because he waved back. Gestured her to come to him.

And oh, how she wanted to. Force herself to her feet, fight her way down the hill. Help Gage bring her little brother to safety.

Except for her ankle. And the very real sense that Gage really didn’t need her. Had never needed her. Frankly, had been humoring her this entire time. And she’d nearly gotten him and her brother seriously injured.

As she pushed to her feet, the pain shot up her leg, nearly sent her back to her knees.

Below, Gage had clearly spied the guys because he began to inch his way down the slope with Ollie. They angled for him, cutting a line through the snow, the motors from their machines thundering in the air despite the distance.

She gritted her teeth, began to slide down.

Her ankle gave out on her, the pain blinding, and she sat again in the snow. She’d have to scoot down, on her bottom. Except the powder was too thick, and she found herself just digging a hole.

Below, Ty and Pete had reached Gage. They were maneuvering Ollie onto the emergency rescue sled attached to the snowmobile.

For a moment, she dearly wished one of them might see her stranded on the hillside and head her direction. But the powder would bury the sled as they plowed uphill.

She had to get to them.

Ho-kay. This couldn’t be harder than delivering a four-hour speech to her fellow senators, a filibuster move that had backfired.

Except, this couldn’t backfire.

Now Gage had turned, was looking up at her. She saw him wave.

She waved back. Yeah, I’m just fine. Enjoying the view.

Tears filled her eyes as she got up, gritted her teeth. Pointed her snowboard downhill.

Gage was still waving, now both hands in the air.

Huh?

She raised her hands too, held them out, like a giant shrug.

And then, Gage was moving, still waving his arms.

Yeah, she knew she was taking her time but—

And then she heard it. A crack, then a low rumble behind her.

She went cold as she turned.

Just to confirm the truth.

The cornice had unlatched from the top.

The mountain was coming down in waves of thick snow.

She screamed as she aimed her board straight downhill and flew.





17


ELLA COULDN’T OUTRUN THE SLIDE.

Gage saw it even before the entire cornice broke off—maybe due to the roar of the snowmobiles, he didn’t know—but he did the quick geometry.

Even if she headed straight down, the waves of snow would overtake her, bury her. Entomb her in ice.

Was she wearing her beacon? He couldn’t remember—it had been clipped to her backpack, but he’d emptied it when he stripped off the straps, and left it behind at the campsite.