A Matter of Trust

by Susan May Warren

  The entire cornice cap above Weeping Wall, right where she’d cut hard above the cliff trying to stop herself, was cracking.

  “Get up!”

  Gage nearly vaulted to his feet, reached over, and somehow grabbed her by the waist. “The wall is coming down!” His hand was on her back, pushing.

  “What?”

  “It’s a slide—get moving!”

  The wall gave way and dropped.

  Get off the mountain. Get off the mountain.

  The words thundered in Gage’s head as he pushed Ella in front of him. “Sideways—we need to ski out of the track of the slide!”

  He didn’t look back—the roar of the snow crashing toward him had his heart slamming against his ribs.

  Ella cut downhill, and he raced after her, grabbing her arm.

  “This way!” He angled right, because to go left would be to cross in front of the slide.

  But right led them over the ravine. A ten-foot fissure in the snow cut by frozen river and razor-edged granite walls.

  However, they could sail right over it if they worked up enough speed.

  “Faster! Stay on your edge but keep your weight centered—don’t carve!”

  He probably didn’t need to tell her that—Ella possessed enough board skills to teach fast-gliding. Instinct, really, kept him shouting.

  That and the sheer panic of knowing what it felt like to get caught in a slide. The pressure of the snow as it crushed your ribs, wrenched your shoulder out of socket. The suffocating cold—

  “Don’t slow down!”

  He hazarded a glance uphill. The slide careened down, gathering momentum, taking out spindly, high-altitude pines, tumbling over rocks. And while they’d slid mostly out of the zone—

  “No! Gage, are you serious?”

  She’d spotted the gully.

  “Take it fast—we’ll launch off—it’s a sweet landing on the other side, I promise.” Although, in reality, he’d never taken it, only studied this route. Instead he’d opted for the nearly straight drop of the Great White Throne, a series of cliff drops, each about three to five feet down a face of nearly a hundred feet.

  “Gage!”

  Just in time and with the lead snowballs overtaking them, the edge of the ravine came up at them.

  “It’s all about the speed, Ella. Spring off the top, get lots of boost. Let’s hit this!” He hunkered down, hit the lip, and sprang off, riding the air.

  Next to him, out of his peripheral vision, he saw Ella mimic him.

  He didn’t know if he’d call what emerged from her mouth a scream, but it definitely lit something inside him. Adrenaline, a little goofy fear, and a whole lot of pure crazy panic that bubbled out in unexpected terror-filled fun. He landed, cut hard to slow his speed, and saw her stomp her landing just a little behind him.

  He glanced behind, further back.

  The slide had turned, slowed at the ravine, but it had enough momentum to make the leap.

  “We have to keep moving!” But here, they had more slope to work with. He rode his edge and traversed the hill, cutting hard right, along a ridge.

  She followed him, her jaw set.

  Gage shot a look back again just as the slide swept past them. It careened into pine trees, off a cliff, and dumped into the valley below.

  He angled upslope, slowed, and found a notch in the mountain where he could stop.

  He leaned over and grabbed his knees, breathing hard.

  Ella slipped up beside him, unclipped her pack, dropped it in the soft snow, then collapsed next to it with her arms out. “Seriously.”

  He unsnapped his boots and freed himself from the board. He secured it into the snow, slid off his pack, and plopped down next to her. “You okay?”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  He reached over and unbuckled her bindings. Set her board next to his.

  “Okay, I never want to do that again.”

  He offered a smile. “Me either.”

  She looked over at him. “I had no idea—I mean, I saw you live through that other slide, but . . . Gage. That was terrifying.”

  His smile fell. “Yeah.” He unbuckled his helmet, pulled it off. Underneath, a line of sweat had formed. He wiped his glove across his forehead, noticed that his hand shook.

  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite as put together as he thought.

  Next to him, she sat up. Lifted off her goggles, then unbuckled and pulled off her helmet. She wore a white headband, her hair caught back. She pulled her gaiter down and unbuckled her backpack. “I need a drink.”

  “Whiskey?”

  She looked at him, and he finally got a smile. “Funny.”

  He retrieved his water bottle and handed it to her.

  They sat in silence.

  Finally, softly, “I’m sorry, Gage. I . . . I’m in over my head here.”

  He didn’t want to admit it, but, well . . . “Me too.”

  She glanced at him, and he let one side of his mouth tweak up.

  “What do you mean? You could ski this with your eyes closed.”

  He looked at her then, his gaze roaming her face. Then he pulled off his glove and touched his warm fingers to her face. “That’s not what I mean.”

  Her mouth opened, her eyes widened.

  Maybe it was the adrenaline, the near-death experience, but all his feelings bubbled up, without the reserve to save him. His voice shook. “You scared me. You always scare me a little, Ella. I never have been able to take a full breath around you.”

  He didn’t know how he’d gotten here, suddenly, the inside of his heart spilling out into the cold, windy air. But he seemed unable to stop. “I’m . . . I’m so afraid you’re going to get hurt. And if that happened, I could . . . that would be the end.” He fixed his gaze into hers, unmoving. “I could not bear to have you hurt because I couldn’t keep you safe.”

  He dropped his hand but couldn’t take his gaze from hers.

  She blinked at him, as if trying to assimilate his words.

  Oh, where were red flags, waving him off?

  Then, whisper soft, “Gage—I trust you.”

  Oh no . . . that’s not . . . “You shouldn’t.”

  She frowned, and he cut his voice low, serious.

  “Ella, you should not trust someone who’s made the mistakes I’ve made.” He shook his head. “I mean, frankly, I had no business praying like I did today. I have no doubt God is up there laughing.”

  “Gage, God doesn’t laugh at our prayers.”

  “Trust me, he’s thinking, you’ve got a lot of guts, pal.” He sighed. “And to remind me of that, thanks, God sent an avalanche. Believe me when I say that I am not your good luck charm here.”

  “Whatever! You only got us to safety. And I have a feeling God put us exactly where we needed to be to get away, so—no, I don’t hear any laughter. I hear God saying, ‘You messed up, but that doesn’t mean I did. Trust me.’”

  He let her words in but couldn’t feel them. “Oh, El, you don’t get it. I’m not the hero you think I am. But around you, I forget that. You make me think that I am more than who I am.”

  “You are more—”

  “No. That’s the whole problem. I used to think I was, and it went to my head. And then I was this guy who strapped on a video camera and risked his life for a living, and somehow thought that was brave or honorable when it was just plain stupid. Then my luck ran out. And people got hurt.”

  “Gage, you inspired—”

  “Crazy. I inspire crazy. I’m not a hero, Ella. I’m just a guy who keeps trying to do the right thing, hoping desperately he doesn’t get somebody killed in the process.”

  And then, because they were alone, here, right now, in the glorious ethereal wake of near disaster and heady triumph . . . “And I know I should be angry with you, but . . . I can’t stop thinking about how it was before, and how much I still want you. So desperately I can taste it. Because when I’m with you, you make me cut past all the debris of the past three years
to that guy I used to be—only maybe less arrogant. Less reckless. Being with you just might make me into the guy I actually want to be..” He swallowed, pretty sure he’d lost his mind back there in the slide. “You’re . . . you’re good for me,” he said, sighing. “But if I can’t get you down this mountain, I’ll be disastrous for you.”

  “Gage.”

  “No. We shouldn’t be here. This is no good.” He closed his eyes, shook his head.

  And that was why he didn’t see her roll to her knees and grab the front of his jacket. But, a second before she kissed him, he opened his eyes and saw her intent.

  “Ella—”

  She pressed her lips against his, sweetly, her gloves fisted in his jacket.

  He didn’t move, so shocked by her touch . . .

  And then, he found his bearing, the place he wanted to be. The place he’d wanted to be for three long years.

  With Ella.

  Right here in her embrace.

  She tasted of the morning coffee, the sense of adrenaline and fear and adventure, her kiss so fresh and crisp and alive, he lost himself a little.

  She slid her arms around him, and he wove his fingers in her hair, put his arm around her shoulders as he leaned her back, cradling her in the snow.

  She relaxed, moved her arms up to rest on his shoulders. He felt a smile curve her lips.

  And it only made him deepen his kiss, his heartbeat slowing, finally. The world stopped around him, and the moment cocooned him, blotting out the avalanche, the gusting wind, the worry for Oliver.

  Yes, here he belonged.

  He finally leaned up and found her beautiful eyes. “Wow, I missed you.”

  She smiled, her eyes a pale blue to match the sky. “I never stopped thinking about you, Gage. Never.”

  He leaned back in, covered her mouth with his.

  He could stay here all day, all year, until the thaw found them on top of the mountain.

  And then they could simply hike down. Instead of risking Ella’s pretty neck on yet another cliff, another avalanche, a run through the trees that could impale her.

  He winced and pulled away from her, rolling over.

  “What is it?” She sat up. “Are you hurt?”

  “We have to find your brother and get off this mountain.” He met her eyes. “Alive, preferably.”

  “We will, Gage. I don’t believe in luck. I believe in courage. And loyalty. And you. I believe in you. And I want to believe that God is on our side, despite our mistakes. Don’t you?”

  He looked up at her, swallowed. Nodded.

  “Okay, then, get up and figure out our line.”

  He stared at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re a little bossy, you know.”

  “Mmmhmm.” She reached for her backpack. “Want a power bar?”

  He probably didn’t need one, since, at the moment, he felt downright invincible. But he nodded as he stood up to study the hill. They could ride the ridge down, drop down a wall of cascading cliffs smaller than the Great White Throne, then down what looked like a chute of white, between two walls of granite and . . . “Ella, you’re not going to believe this, but we’re right above the cave. This is a shortcut.”

  She handed him a power bar. “Well done, champ.”

  He grinned at her and sat down in the snow, tearing open the snack. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his walkie.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking in with PEAK, telling them we’re okay. And that we are going to get off this mountain alive.”

  Someone needed to get out into the backcountry and start searching from the bottom. The thought came to Ty as he listened to Gage’s second transmission, an update about the avalanche they’d narrowly escaped.

  No, it came to him as he watched Brette push away Sierra’s homemade tomato soup and ignore the grilled cheese sandwiches. She sat on the sofa, her arms around her stomach, gritting her teeth, looking pained, probably at the thought of her best friend outrunning a slide.

  Not to mention all the other perils awaiting them as they headed further down Heaven’s Peak. Like Angel’s Wings, a thin couloir in the rock that ran two hundred yards straight down through two towering granite cliffs, so close together that if he and Ella deviated one foot, they’d crash into the side. Or Cathedral Canyon, the vast pine forest that littered the backside of the peak near the final descent.

  Ty had watched Gage’s video a few hundred times back in the day when he realized the guy came from Mercy Falls. Back then, however, Ty’s life had been full of trips to Vail or Steamboat Springs—no backcountry skiing for his family.

  No, he’d been too busy keeping up with Selene Taggert and her brother, Barron, and their circle of New York friends. Ty Remington, the wealthy rancher’s kid from Montana, hobnobbing with the page six crowd.

  Brette’s words from last night hung in his head. “Entitled. Selfish. The world revolves around them, and they’ll take anyone down to keep it that way.” Her comments about the class of people that he came from.

  He’d kept his mouth shut.

  After all, he wasn’t that guy anymore. Not since the accident, really.

  Nearly dying had a way of teaching a guy who he was. And wasn’t.

  And who he wanted to be.

  Now, Ty got up from the table, brought his bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and loaded it in the dishwasher. Then he grabbed his coat, slipped on his boots, and hunkered down into the cold, heading to the barn.

  Last night’s storm had sculpted the land, drifted the snow against the house, the fence, the barn, leaving bare patches in the heli-pad and in the yard. Overhead, the sky had cleared, a perfect powder blue. The air contained a bite, and a faint wind bullied its way down the back of his jacket as he scurried out to the barn.

  He opened the door and flicked on the lights. The chopper sat in the relative warmth of the heated barn, having been brought in on the hydraulic pad. Beyond that was the gear room, and in the back of the barn, their various vehicles—the medivac truck, the 4Runner, and the two Polaris sleds. Ty might have lived the life of a playboy, but his father also taught him the workings of the ranch. Including how to repair the vehicles.

  He opened the cover, pulled out the dipstick, and checked the oil.

  “So you’ve decided to make a run for it?”

  He found the voice, saw that Pete had followed him out. “What?”

  Pete had his hands shoved into his pockets, as if trying to look casual, but with his hair pulled back, it only accentuated the sharp planes of his face and his dark expression. “Caught between Jess and Brette?” Pete shook his head. “I’d run too.”

  Huh? “I’m not running. There’s nothing between . . .” Him and Jess. But he opted for the version that Pete knew. “Me and Brette.”

  “Then why did I find you two all cozy this morning on the sofa?”

  “She couldn’t sleep. We watched a movie.”

  Pete had come up to him, his face unmoving. “Watched a movie.”

  “Yeah. She’s upset and worried.”

  “And you decided to comfort her.” Pete took another step toward him. Too close.

  “Yeah. Now back off, Pete.”

  Pete didn’t move. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I swear to you, Ty, if you break Jess’s heart, I’ll run you back to that fancy ranch of yours so fast—”

  “Step. Back.” Ty had put the dipstick back and now pitched his voice low and turned to Pete. “I’m not afraid of you, Pete. Sure, I might have grown up with a few more advantages, but I promise you, I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Clearly. Because I thought only I was stupid enough to date two women at the same time.”

  “I’m not dating—” He sucked in a breath. “I am just being Brette’s friend. She needs one.”

  “Really. Maybe I should be her friend,” Pete said.

  Ty had never really understood men who got instantly riled when other men talked about their girlfriends, but su
ddenly he had the very real image of slamming his fist into Pete’s smug face. Maybe rock him back from his righteous perch, remind him that Jess had chosen to walk away from him, into Ty’s embrace. And yeah, it might be a platonic embrace, but she’d still chosen the safety of Ty’s arms over the warmth of Pete’s.

  He managed not to say that, or let the thought tip a smile to his lips. Instead, he took a breath. He schooled his voice. “Pete. You’re so jealous you’re not thinking straight.”

  The air went out of Pete at Ty’s words. He swallowed.

  “Brette is just a friend. I promise I won’t hurt Jess.”

  Pete’s jaw tightened.

  Ty met his gaze.

  Silence passed between them until Ty heard the door open behind Pete. He looked over his shoulder.

  Jess had walked into the barn, her timing impeccable.

  “Pete? Miles just came in. He wants to talk to you about the possible evac off the mountain over land.”

  Pete didn’t move for a long heartbeat. Then, finally, he turned and must have smiled at Jess because she smiled back as she passed him.

  Polite. But she wore so much longing in her face as Pete walked by, Ty wanted to shake them both.

  She came up to him, and Ty waited until Pete closed the door behind him.

  “Jess, this has gone on long enough. You have to tell him. The poor guy is completely in love with you and nearly took my head off just now because he thinks I’m cheating on you with Brette.”

  Jess swallowed, looked away. “I know.”

  “You know? Good. Yay. Because I’m tired of Pete being furious with me, and frankly . . .” He didn’t want to say the rest. The part about him watching Brette as she fell asleep, the way her blonde hair swept over her shoulders, the very real urge to twine her hair between his fingers.

  “I just need you to settle this thing with you and Pete. For the good of all of us. Trust him, Jess. Tell him the truth. No one is going to betray you here—your secret is safe with us. At least it is with Pete, just as much as it is with me.”

  Jess nodded, wiped a hand across her cheek. “You’re right. I’m being silly. After all, what could happen? So he finds out that I’m actually the missing whistle-blower of the Taggert Financial scandal. You’re right—I’m blowing this out of proportion.”