Oh no. But he didn’t move, didn’t let his face betray him. Maybe he’d imagined it . . .
“The thing is, Taggert was supposedly turned in by his own daughter, Selene. She even testified against him in a closed hearing. She joined him in court on the day of his sentencing, and then she vanished. Just walked away from her entire life—left her brother and mother to fend off the press. There’s a rumor out there that she testified to save herself from jail, but she ran before anyone could dig the evidence up.”
Ty had to clench his teeth to bite back a defense, an explanation. But that was for Jess to unravel.
“I can’t get it out of my head that if I could just corner her, ask her why, maybe even get an apology . . . I don’t know. Maybe I could let go of this darkness inside, find some peace.”
If that was all it took . . . a confession? An apology? This wasn’t exactly Jess’s fault, but Brette didn’t seem to think that way.
“You know what’s crazy?” Brette said then, finally looking at him again. “I thought, for a while there, that Jess Tagg was Selene Taggert, the missing heiress. I mean, she just looked so familiar to me. Long blonde hair, a sort of regal confidence about her, the look of someone raised in wealth.” She lifted a shoulder. “I think probably it was the pain going to my head.”
He raised an eyebrow, offered a nod, as if in agreement.
Let out a breath.
She had ahold of his hand, ran her thumb over it. “So, you see, Ella is all I have.”
“Not all you have,” Ty said quietly.
She smiled, and it made him ache. He reached out, pushed her hair from her face, let it fall, silky between his fingers. “You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you.”
She wrapped her hands around his, cradling it on her chest. “Thank you, Ty.”
Her tears welled again, and he touched his other hand to her cheek, wiping the wetness away with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I keep crying.”
He shook his head. “It’s been a stressful couple of days.”
But she’d reached up and curled her hand behind his neck. Met his gaze.
And for a second, he simply stilled, seeing a crazy intention in her eyes.
One he harbored right now too. For no other reason than just the need to sort through the clutter and listen to the tug of his heart.
And then she pulled him, gently, down to her. And he didn’t resist, didn’t even think, really, just gave in to the soft nudge of her hand, leaned down and kissed her. A feathery press of his lips to hers, sweetly, almost in comfort.
She sighed and kissed him back, just a whisper of desire in her touch.
But it lit something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in—well, never, really. Brette was steel over velvet, taken down by life and circumstances, brave and loyal, and still willing to let someone past the broken edges of her heart.
Tyler Remington could too easily fall in love with Brette Arnold.
He let his caress linger for a moment. When he eased back, he felt her smile even before it touched her eyes.
Such beautiful eyes.
“Well,” she said. “Here I was afraid you were already taken.”
He could barely hear over the thunder in his chest. “Taken?” he managed.
“Yeah. It looked like you and Jess . . .” Brette made a face. “I was reading into a lot of things today.”
He managed a feeble laugh. “No, Jess and I are just friends.” But the words burned in his throat.
“Good. Because I’m not a man-stealer,” she said. “Even if you, Ty, are a man worth stealing.”
He smiled at that, not sure how to respond. Because it might be that she was well on her way to stealing his heart.
14
GAGE HAD REALLY LOST HIS MIND NOW because no snowboarder with all his working faculties, no matter how accomplished, rode through a steep, deeply powdered, pine-cluttered mountainside in the dark of night.
Lost. His. Mind.
The light from his head lamp cut through the darkness at sharp angles, and he just hoped he was heading toward the eastern ridge, the closest clear point to call in a rescue.
Which, most likely, PEAK couldn’t manage, not with the winds picking up, the night closing in. But he had to try.
And after he connected with PEAK, he’d hike his way back to Ella.
He couldn’t erase Ella’s distraught expression from his brain—of course he’d go for help. In fact, the one thing he could do right was find his way through these trees.
He ducked a low-hanging branch, angled his board toward a clearing in the trees, shot through them, and—
He emerged into a clear white field that ended in a nearly thousand-foot drop-off of sheer granite.
He skidded to a stop, breathing hard, sweat trickling down his back despite the howl of the wind. Below the cornice that capped the rocky edge, the world fell away into a rugged valley of granite, pine, and unridable terrain.
In his original descent, he hadn’t gone this way for those exact reasons—the lethal drop-off. But tonight, this position provided a clear view to the VHF antenna at Crystal Point. It was just the boost he needed for his radio reception to clear the mountains and reach PEAK HQ communications.
Overhead, a half moon had risen, the stars just starting to wink awake. The luminosity shone enough for him to trace the razorback peaks to the east. It would be a glorious, even romantic night under the stars if Ella’s brother wasn’t fighting for his life.
He worked out his walkie. “PEAK HQ, PEAK HQ, this is Watson. Come in!”
Static, and he pressed the unit to his helmet, wincing. Please.
The wind stirred up eddies of powder around him, and the temps had dropped drastically with the disappearance of the sun. His cheeks burned with cold, and as his heartbeat slowed, he knew it wouldn’t be long until the cold found his bones.
“Ty! Pete! Someone pick up!”
Please let someone be there at HQ. But he couldn’t imagine that anyone would have left. Not with him and Ella out on a search.
“Watson, this is PEAK HQ. Go ahead. Over.”
Jess. Thank you. He wanted to weep with the sudden rush of relief. “We’re just east of Cathedral Canyon, about a mile or more west of the final ridge. We found Oliver.”
“Roger, Watson. What is his condition?”
“He might have internal bleeding—we need an extraction ASAP.”
“Stand by,” Jess said, and he imagined she was conferring with Miles or maybe Pete. The wind ruffled his jacket, pressed him toward the edge, and he fell to his knees, just to ground himself.
The last thing he needed was to take a header off the ridge wall.
“Watson, Miles here. We’re watching the wind off the mountain, and it’s gusting up to forty miles per hour. In the darkness and that complexity of flying in, it’s a no-go right now. We might be able to get in at first light.”
Gage closed his eyes, wincing.
“And that’s pretty tight tree cover down there. We might be able to drop in a litter, but there’s no guarantee we can pull him out. Over.”
“If you drop it in, I can ski him out.” Maybe. But with the thicket of trees, the ridgeline cordoning them off . . .
No, of course he’d ski Oliver, and Ella, out. Safely.
“Wilco,” Miles said. “Repeat your position.”
“We’re in the Cathedral Forest, about another mile to the ridge. Heading down along the ridge into the center of the canyon.”
“Roger. We’ll leave at first light and radio when we get close. And we’ll map a route in on snowmobile. Ty and Pete will head out as soon as they can. Best we can do.”
It would have to be good enough. “Roger. Wilco. Watson out.”
He stood there a moment, just watching the stars breach the dark blue canopy of night. The jagged, glistening outline of the mountains against the indigo heavens.
And rising above them all, Heaven’s Peak.
He stared up, seeing in his mind the trek they’d taken down the mountain, that first jump, where they’d camped last night, Weeping Wall, the cave where they found Bradley, Angel’s Wings . . .
This is where it had started, all of it—the epic YouTube video, the freestyle championships, meeting Ella . . .
The rise before his colossal fall.
And God had led him right back here. As if he might be trying to tell Gage something.
Ty’s words to him, only a few days old, drifted back to him. “Dude. You wear your mistakes like a brand on your forehead. You need to get over it.”
Maybe God brought him back here to give him a reset. A do-over. Gage didn’t have to be a cautionary tale, not anymore.
He should go see that kid—Hunter—when they got out of this. Maybe his fame could come to some good.
In fact, maybe everything could change if he did this right. Restart with Ella in his life—yeah, he’d figure it out. Move to Vermont.
Maybe start freeriding again.
Gage sat, unlatched his boots, and snapped off the bindings from the board. Then he stood it up and unhooked the board where it latched at the top, then at the heel. He split the board, then reattached the bindings into touring mode. After standing the skis upright in the snow, he pulled out his skins, took one, and attached it to the tip of his board. He did the same with the other, pressing them tight along the bottoms.
Then he clipped his boots back into the bindings. Took a breath and sighted his line. He’d simply follow it back to Ella and the camp.
“Okay, Ella, here I come.”
The howling was just the wind.
Really, it had to be.
Please.
Ella sat at the edge of the tent, shining her light out into the night through the tiny opening, her hair rising as another mournful cry hung on the wind.
Start a fire—right. She hadn’t a clue how to find dry firewood in the woods, especially in the thick of night. She did well to get the stove going, melt water, and make supper.
She’d saved a cup of chili mac for Gage. Who would be back any minute.
Any. Minute.
“It’s cold out there, sis. Come in and shut the door,” Ollie said from behind her.
“I’m trying to keep the wolves away,” she snapped. “Someone has to keep us alive, and poor Gage is out there somewhere, alone and . . .” She closed her eyes. Now she simply sounded hysterical.
She didn’t do hysterical. Ever. Even when she wanted to fly apart—like watching Gage get swept away in an avalanche, or even after escaping her own avalanche—
“Do you know that I outran an avalanche looking for you today?” She glanced at Ollie. He lay on the sleeping bag, finishing off a power bar. A sheen of sweat slicked his forehead. She frowned—it wasn’t that warm in here. In fact, she could still see her breath.
“Cool,” Ollie said, and grinned at her.
On second thought, it was probably his own arrogance heating him from the inside. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah. I think it was just exhaustion. I stopped to take a breath, and the next thing I knew, you were slapping me on the face.”
“I didn’t slap you.” She turned back to the door. “And it wasn’t cool. It was terrifying. In fact, the last two days I’ve pretty much lived in terror trying to find you.”
“You didn’t have to come after me—”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I did. You’re my brother, my idiot brother, but—”
“Hey.” He sat up, and she noticed the quick intake of breath, as if he was in pain. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been studying this route for two years. And this weekend was my chance to go down in history.”
Oh. His solemn tone took some wind out of her anger. “I didn’t know that. Really, you’ve been studying for two years?”
“Watching videos, studying the mountain.”
“But you were partying the night before you left!”
“No, I wasn’t. I was in the bar, yes, but I wasn’t drinking. I was meeting with our chopper pilot. And okay, I might have called Gage Watson, but that was just pride talking. I’d been studying his style for so long—and then to have him track me down and take away my ski pass . . . it turned my crank.”
Ollie slumped back. “Why’d you have to bring him, of all people? Now he sees me as some hotshot who needed to be rescued.”
She was still trying not to see him that way. “Because he knows this mountain. And—oh never mind. Ollie, listen. I know you’re angry with me—”
“I’m not ten years old anymore. I’m an adult, and I don’t need you to rescue me. Or tell me I’m an idiot.”
Her mouth pressed tight. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine—”
“No. I’m sorry that I didn’t know you had actually prepared for this. I might not have called out the cavalry.”
He nodded. “Well, it’s probably good you did. Bradley needed help. And I’m still not feeling well. My head is starting to really hurt.”
“How’d you get sick, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the pizza?”
“I didn’t have any.” But Brette had, and Gage’s words about Brette going to the hospital nudged her memory. “I was out looking for you.”
He made a face.
“I know you’re not a little kid anymore, but . . . you’re still my kid brother, and you’re all I have.”
He opened his eyes, a little incredulity in them. “No, I’m not. You have Mom and Dad.”
“They’re not my mom and dad—”
“Yes, they are. And if you’d just slow down and realize you don’t have be so awesome all the time, you’d figure out that they love you just because you’re their daughter. Look at me—I spent the better part of my high school years, and yeah, maybe freshman year in college—screwing up. But they still love me.”
“I know. You sooo don’t deserve it.” But she smiled.
“I don’t. And, by the way, I know you think I’m still smoking pot, but I’m not. I kicked that six months ago when I went in training for this run. Went home, told Mom and Dad I wanted to do this. I showed them a video of me, showed them I was actually good at this. They finally told me that if that was my passion, that they would support me.”
“They so did not. Not after what happened to Dylan.”
“They so did. Accidents happen, yeah, but I’m not a child, Elle. And they get that. Mom knew I was flying out here. Do they know you’re here?”
Oh. She shook her head. “I just assumed . . .”
“Yeah, well, you know the saying.”
“I’m sorry, Ollie. I jumped to conclusions and . . . now we’re out here . . .” Surrounded by wolves. Another cry hung in the air.
Ollie seemed to not hear it. “You’ve been busy, I get it. It’s not like we talk or anything.”
She sat down on her sleeping bag. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, you’re busy saving the world.”
“Not saving the world, but yeah, I have people who depend on me.”
“Senator.”
She frowned at him.
“There you go, assuming I’m mocking you. It could be that I’m proud of you. And maybe someday you’ll be proud of me.”
Oh, Ollie.
Another howl drifted in on the wind.
“Is that getting closer?” Ollie asked. “Because I have a gun in my pack.”
“You have a—you have a gun?”
“Yeah, I thought—well, bears and wolves . . . I got my permit about a year ago, right after I turned eighteen, took a bunch of classes—”
“Wow, I really don’t know you.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” He grinned, winked.
Yeah, she sort of did. Because, in that lopsided smile, she saw him. Jovan. Cocky, smart, brave. And a touch of her father.
Here she’d spent her life trying to resemble her amazing parents, and Olli
e did it by just being himself.
The howls outside sounded closer.
“Where’s that gun?”
“Do you know how to use it?” Ollie asked as he pointed to his backpack. “Outside pocket.”
She found a 10mm Glock and pulled it out. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about yes, I know how to use this gun, bro?”
She nodded. “I’ve gone to the firing range a few times with Brette.”
“Really?”
“She’s into self-defense. She has her reasons.” She scooted toward the door, holding her flashlight. She hoped he didn’t chase down an explanation.
Instead he ran down a different path. “So, you and Gage spent the last two days together?”
The way Ollie said it . . . but no, he couldn’t know the stirring in her heart at just the mention of Gage’s name. She kept her voice even. “Like I said, he knows this mountain.”
“Hmm . . . does he know you have a wicked crush on him?”
She glanced at Oliver. “What?”
“Hello. Posters? And because you went out to Outlaw three years ago to watch him freeride? Or even the fact that you still have his number in your phone?”
She said nothing.
“Sis—”
“Okay, yeah. He knows I like him. And I think he likes me back. I mean, I’m pretty sure—”
“Describe pretty sure.”
She sighed. “He kissed me.”
“Whoa.” Ollie sat up.
Yeah, whoa, because suddenly the past twenty-four hours felt a little like she had while standing at the apex of Angel’s Wings—a fast and dangerous slide into the unknown.
What exactly was she expecting? For Gage to follow her back to Vermont?
For her to stay in Montana?
“So, is this true love?” Ollie said.
“I don’t know. Let’s just pray he gets back in one piece. Then we can think about—”
This time, the feral moan was joined by a chorus of high-pitched, skin-prickling whines.
She unzipped the tent, shone the light into the darkness.
There, a form, a flicker of light.
What did they say about wolves’ eyes in the darkness? She stood up, held the Maglite in her mouth, pointed the gun.
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