by Erika Kelly
Once everyone got settled, the chopper took off, and Fin immediately messaged his oldest brother on his sat phone. Traci fell into a crevasse. Might’ve blown out her knee.
Will’s immediate response didn’t surprise him. His brother would be waiting to hear he’d made it off the mountain. She all right?
Getting her to the ER in Innsbruck right now.
That sucks.
A moment later, another message came in. You realize you’re on the last flight out that’ll get you home in time for the wedding, right?
And then a third. Can heli drop you at the airport first?
Fin glanced over to Traci on the stretcher. She had her eyes closed, her features pinched in pain. He’d known her for years. Not well, by any means, but their paths crossed thanks to snowboarding. They all had a short window of opportunity to make money doing the sport they loved, so he knew her distraught expression had as much to do with pain as abject fear.
He tapped out his response. Got to get her settled in ER.
Not five seconds later the phone vibrated in his hand. He couldn’t answer, so he messaged. Can’t talk. On heli.
Gotcha. Let me look into it.
He appreciated his brother trying to get him home, but he’d already done the math. With all the connections, that flight from Paris was the only one that would get him back in time.
He knew the other guys could take care of Traci. Get her to the hospital, call her family and coach. She’d be in good hands, but…this is my trip.
He glanced out the window as they soared over the forest. What the hell was he supposed to do? But, of course, he knew. He just didn’t like it.
The phone vibrated with Will’s response. No other flights. You want to be Ryder’s best man, you’ve got to go straight to the airport.
He hadn’t wanted to plan the trip so close to his friend’s wedding, but he’d had six schedules to work around after competition season ended in April. They’d been confident they’d avoid weather issues by going mid-June.
They’d been wrong.
So what did he do? He couldn’t miss Ryder’s wedding, and he sure as hell didn’t want to miss Callie, either. He knew she’d take off the moment Ryder and Lynn shoved cake in each other’s mouths.
He had one chance to see her. One chance to make things right between them.
But he couldn’t think about Callie. As the leader of this expedition, he had to get Traci to the ER. He felt sick to his stomach as he typed out a message.
Can’t do it.
The moment the helicopter landed on top of the hospital in Innsbruck, a team gathered to rush Traci to the emergency room. Fin grabbed her wallet from the side of her backpack and settled in with the staff to check her in. While providing information, he left a voicemail with her coach—he’d know how to reach her family.
By the time Fin joined the guys in the waiting room, they’d amassed a pile of vending machine food on the coffee table. With his fingers deep into a bag of chips, Bram nodded toward the haul.
“How is she?” Fin asked.
Bram shrugged. “No one’s come out yet.”
A quick scan of the crap the guys had selected netted a bag of nuts. Salted, but he couldn’t be that picky. So he grabbed the bag, tore it open with his teeth, and headed over to the nurse’s station. “Excuse me. Do you have any news on Traci Allen?”
The young man shook his head. “I’ll let them know you’re waiting.” His English was accented but clear. “Someone will be out to talk to you.”
As Fin turned back to the guys, one of them said, “You’re gonna miss your flight.”
“Already did.” He pulled out his cell and powered it up. It didn’t take long for the messages to start pouring in.
He opened the one from his brother. Okay, Diva. Chopper’s taking you to a private airport. Got a jet taking you to Paris. Red eye’ll get you into Calamity the morning of the rehearsal dinner.
Happiness split him wide open. He’d make it. “Listen, my brother booked me on a flight out of Paris. You guys’ll stay here with Traci? Take care of whatever she needs?”
“Of course,” one of the guys said.
Energized, he shoved the phone into his pocket. “Okay, then.” He glanced back at the nurse’s station, hesitant to leave without knowing Traci’s condition. What if she required surgery? Decisions would have to be made. “I left a message with her coach,” he started, but Bram lifted a hand to stop him.
“Already talked to him. He’s contacting her family and making plans right now.”
Good. “All right then.” Fin hesitated, looking between this team and the nurse.
“Just go, man. We got this.”
“Yeah, okay.” Reaching for the backpack he’d leaned against the wall, he looked at his team. He knew them. They wouldn’t leave until Traci’s coach or family got there. “Stay in touch. Let me know how she is.”
They all nodded, and he took off, racing toward the red exit sign. He hauled ass up the well-lit stairwell and burst out the doors to the roof. The moment he boarded the helicopter he buckled in and let out a breath.
Hell, yes. He’d make it home in time for the wedding.
He smiled. Callie Bell, I’m coming for you.
Settling back in his seat, he thought about Traci, how upset she’d be no matter the extent of her injuries. This is exactly why her coach doesn’t let her board backcountry.
Fin’s trips were as risky as they were fun. Anyone who joined him knew what they were getting themselves into. Still, he felt like shit that she’d gotten hurt.
He pulled out his phone, wondering what he could say that wouldn’t sound stupid. She wouldn’t want to hear bullshit promises that everything would turn out okay. She was tough, no-nonsense.
He’d keep it light. Snarky.
Thanks for a great time.☺Gotta jet. Talk soon.
About the Author
Award-winning author Erika Kelly has been spinning romantic tales all her life—she just didn’t know it. Raised on the classics, she didn’t discover romantic fiction until later in life. From that moment on, she’s been devouring the genre and has found her true voice as an author. Over three decades she’s written poems, screenplays, plays, short stories, and all kinds of women’s fiction novels. Married to the love of her life and raising four children, she lives in the northeast, drinks a lot of tea, and is always waiting for her cats to get off her keyboard.
https://www.erikakellybooks.com/