A little tingle traced down her spine from that memory. Yet, even knowing what the damage of being discovered would do to her mother, and to their relationship, Emma hadn’t been able to stop herself from writing once the story began spinning itself in her head. Now she’d do just about anything to keep from hurting her mother.
Aside from the moral disappointment, her mom would be devastated to think that Emma wanted something more than a future that consisted entirely of running the Weenuche together. It would undoubtedly feel like another betrayal, just like when her dad left to chase his dreams.
No. She couldn’t come clean. The pen name gave her the opportunity to explore her sensuality in a way that wouldn’t harm anyone as long as she kept it to herself. It was enough for her.
Her stories were her escape. Her very personal, private escape—one she’d enjoy all on her own.
“If you have any questions or concerns after your marketing call later, let me know,” Jill said. “Be prepared for a slew of blogging obligations and some directives to up your social media interaction.”
Dread about that latter point consumed Emma. All she wanted to do was write. She didn’t have anything interesting or funny to share on social media. Who cared about what Alexa Aspen had to say about anything real? Every time she posted anything it felt like a huge lie. Probably because it was a fiction—like Alexa—and each click reminded her that, contrary to what she wanted to believe, her integrity wasn’t quite as impeccable as she’d thought.
“When will you send me the rest of your manuscript?”
Emma bit her lip, unprepared to discuss the trouble she seemed to be having now, in the middle of the dang thing. “Soon.”
“The sooner the better, so I have time to give you feedback before we submit it to your editor.” After a brief pause, she said, “Good luck with that call today.”
“Thanks, Jill. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She set down the phone and smoothed her hands over her face. Wyatt may be facing life-or-death peril on the mountain, but right now, her relative safety seemed a bit precarious, too.
Having to juggle all of these things at the same time sort of sucked. She admitted, with defeat, that the “quiet” month she’d planned on enjoying had been a pipe dream. Hopefully both she and Wyatt would make it to December without any major setbacks.
Chapter Four
Wyatt fastened the thick Velcro waistband of his spinal protection gear. He twisted and bent his torso to ensure comfort before pulling on his fleece and outerwear.
When he’d been younger, he hadn’t worried overmuch about injury, but Ryder’s accident had changed everything. The physical discomfort of the impact shorts and padding would be offset by the mental comfort they provided.
“Don’t forget the GoPro,” Mari said, pointing at his helmet.
Wyatt reached into his pack and took another minute to attach his GoPro. His pulse skipped ahead faster than normal, like it always did when he felt a lack of control.
Changing specialties forced him far out of his comfort zone, but given his age and the time he’d taken off, going back to slopestyle hadn’t been the most viable option. Not to mention that panic he’d felt the one time he’d put himself on a course last year. At least in the backcountry, he wouldn’t be confronted with the memory of Ryder’s spectacular crash every time he approached a trick.
That didn’t mean this type of competition was without danger. Or that his skillset would easily translate to the backcountry. But he forced those unhelpful thoughts away. He then double-checked his avalanche transceiver. “Buddy, make sure you’ve got your transceiver on and working.”
“These Unidens have a fifty-mile range, so we shouldn’t lose communication.” Mari handed Wyatt and Buddy each a walkie-talkie. “Now, before you zip everything up, let’s go outside and get a quick interview out of the way.”
The van door slid open, revealing cloudy, gray skies. It had stopped snowing, which improved visibility. Wyatt peered into his binoculars and studied the face of the mountain, picking out an ideal fall line.
He scanned the field for markers to help him navigate his way toward the desired starting point, certain the landscape would all look very different up there than it did from down here. After punching a few notes into his phone as reminders—big rock here, copse of trees there—he then zipped his phone into an interior jacket pocket, right next to the inReach GPS safety device that had a direct dial to local search and rescue teams. When he turned to find Buddy, he noticed that Jim had already set up for taping.
Naturally, Mari dove straight into her questions. “Can you give us a brief rundown of what’s in your pack, how you feel, and what you hope to accomplish today?”