by Ania Ahlborn
Sawyer slowed his steps, allowing distance to grow between them and the rest of the group.
“Really?” he asked, jabbing a finger under his thickly woven hat, scratching an itch. It matched the scarf that April had noosed around her own neck—a set she had knitted when they had first gotten together. He looked like a rock star with those giant sunglasses glued to his face, sure to turn heads all day. She looked away from him, tired of staring at her own reflection in the black lenses of his shades.
“I’ll just sit in the lodge.” She gazed toward a massive A-frame, outdoor tables dotting its redwood deck, multicolored umbrellas decorating the majesty of an otherwise white and green landscape.
“All day?” Sawyer asked. “Ape, you’re going to be bored out of your mind.”
“I don’t care,” she told him, growing more insistent by the second. “I don’t want to do this. I know I said I did…”
“You said you did.”
“I know.”
Sawyer slid his glasses down his nose enough to look at her. She caught a glimpse of his chocolate-colored eyes, immediately knowing that look. He was trying not to be annoyed, but she was cramping his style.
“Don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “I’m sure they have magazines or something.” She nodded, reassuring him that her decision was firm. There was no way in hell she was getting on that lift, especially with some slippery board strapped to her feet. There was no way she was going up to the top of that mountain—a mountain that, she was sure, would be the death of her. She hated sports, having no idea what had possessed her to think this was a good idea in the first place, that snowboarding would be any different. A couple of kids on skis buzzed past them. April squeezed her eyes shut, unnerved.
“It probably isn’t safe anyway,” she said, but it wasn’t what she had told him earlier. It had been the first argument Sawyer had made. But she had lied, had told him that she had checked with her doctor, that she’d be okay. Sawyer had wanted to come up here on his own, had offered to drop her off in Colorado Springs to see her grandparents—she had complained that she hadn’t seen them in so long—and yet, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to let him take this trip alone. And upon seeing Jane, she was glad that she’d fought him, because there was something there, something she didn’t trust. But despite her wariness, she couldn’t strap her feet onto a board in the name of espionage. “Just go,” she said. “Have a good time.”
Sawyer sighed, pulling the glove off his right hand before unzipping his jacket pocket and fishing out his wallet. “Here.” He pulled out a couple of twenties, folded them in half, and tucked them into the palm of her hand. “We’ll come back for lunch.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, hiding behind his glasses. He was trying to be understanding, but she could tell he was upset. “The rental line is probably massive anyway.” April didn’t have gear of her own. She gave him a guilty smile.
“Hey!” Ryan waved at them from yards away. “What’s the holdup?”
She and Sawyer exchanged a glance before he smiled in return.
“See you later,” he said, then readjusted his board against his shoulder. She took a step toward him to give him a parting kiss, but he didn’t notice, too distracted by his friends.
April looked down at the money in her hand, chewed her bottom lip, then tucked the bills into her jacket pocket. When she looked up, Jane and Lauren were looking her way. Feeling her face grow hot, she looked away from them and turned toward the lodge.
They fell backward as the chair swept them off the ground and into the air, three boards pointing right while one pointed left. Ryan shifted his weight, an arm wound around the pole on the far left side of the lift, the weight of his board pulling heavy on his boot.
“I feel bad,” Jane admitted, her shoulder flush with Ryan’s as they continued to ascend.
“Don’t,” Sawyer told her. “It’s her choice.”
“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Lauren countered. “After lunch or something.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Sawyer mused.
“It’s better,” Ryan confessed. It had been the one thing that had bothered him since Sawyer had mentioned April tagging along—the one thing beyond April tagging along at all. Someone was going to have to spend an entire day on the bunny hill with her if she did change her mind, and that hadn’t been the point of this trip. With the beginner’s hill directly beneath them now, they bore witness to dozens of people lying in the snow like the dead, boards strapped to their feet, unmoving, probably wondering what bone they’d just broken during their most recent fall. “You’d be down there, otherwise,” he said.
Jane nudged him to shut him up, but Sawyer was smirking at the bodies fifty feet beneath them.
“What, you don’t like the bunny hill?” he asked.
“No, man, I love it,” Ryan said, “especially at thirty-five miles per hour.”
“I’m not going on any black diamonds,” Jane said. “So just forget it.”
“You can stay on the greens with your pal,” Ryan teased.
Lauren laughed dryly at the far end of the lift.
“What?” He leaned forward against the rail, shooting a look across the chair to the blonde at the far end. “Is that a challenge I hear?”
Lauren grinned, shrugging beneath the thick padding of her coat.
Ryan leaned back, peering at his sister.
“What’d you do?” he asked, “Invite a professional?”
“Don’t do it,” Sawyer warned. “Challenging Adler in boarding is like challenging a shark to a…” He paused, thinking. “A surfing competition.”
“And how would a shark stay on a surfboard, exactly?” Jane asked, amused.
“By his fins,” Sawyer said. “Naturally. Moral of the story: don’t challenge a shark. Ever.”
“Ever?” Lauren asked.
“Oh my god.” Ryan let his head loll back, looking up to the sky. “It’s on.”
“It’s on?” Lauren asked him. It was her turn to lean forward, a wry grin spread across her mouth.
“It’s on.”
“Are you sure?”
“This should be fun,” Sawyer said.
“There’s a little something you don’t know about me,” Lauren confessed, swinging her board beneath her with a wide, innocent smile.
Ryan raised an eyebrow at her. “A secret?”
“It’s about to be revealed,” she said, lifting a gloved fist before bursting her fingers forth—a magic trick guaranteed to blow his mind.
Ryan leaned back, the bunny hill giving way to a thousand trees beneath their feet. Jane leaned against him, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her smiling.
“Was this a setup?” he asked under his breath, the cold burning his cheeks.
“Like you need a setup,” Jane told him, her temple nestled against his shoulder.
“And that would stop you?”
Jane bit back a smile, eventually replying to his question, “Not a chance.”
Jane sat wide-eyed in the powder as Lauren sailed down the hill, tailing Ryan like a champ. Lauren had mentioned that she had boarded before, but she never said that she could keep up with the best of them. Before Jane was able to snap her left foot into her binding they were gone, leaving her and Sawyer in their snow spray.
She watched them until they were mere blips on the hill, then glanced over to Sawyer. He was lying against the snow like a fallen angel, his arms stretched out, looking like he was trying to get a tan.
“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” she asked.
Sawyer lifted his head to look at her, his chin pressed to his chest.
“Three seasons,” he told her. “I’m going to eat it.” He grinned up at the sun, and for a moment she considered just sitting there with him—the two of them in a single spot all morning, enjoying the view, relishing the company. But that would have been desperate and obvious: two things
Jane Adler wouldn’t allow herself to be.
She smiled, adjusted her hat, and rocked onto her toes.
“Later, alligator.” She offered him a salute.
He was up on his board before she could gain ten feet on him. She was still trying to get her bearings when something snagged her jacket and pulled her backward. Sawyer missiled past her, only to throw her off balance, Jane’s arms shooting out behind her; she winced when she connected with the ground, but she was laughing a second later. She couldn’t help it, because just ahead of her, Sawyer flew forward, rolling down the mountain before skidding to a stop with an audible yelp.
Sitting outside the lodge beneath a multicolored umbrella, April spotted Ryan and Lauren first. They slowed at the bottom of the hill, each of them bending down to unstrap one leg, then sliding back in the line that would take them up the mountain again. April couldn’t help but crack a smile as they pushed each other around. Their obvious flirtation raised her spirits. They laughed a bit too loudly as they waited in line, standing a bit too close together, Lauren pestering him by tugging at his zippers, Ryan reciprocating by pulling her hat off her head.
She spotted Sawyer and Jane fifteen minutes later, both of them looking significantly more unbalanced than their counterparts. They were laughing as well. Jane slapped snow off the back of his coat as Sawyer slid farther ahead. She lagged behind, fumbling with the strap that kept her foot in place, pushing off the snow to catch up to him. She reached for him with both hands, and he offered her one of his arms, then pushed off to propel them both.
Something twisted within April’s chest. She waited for Sawyer to glance in her direction, to at least check to see that she was there, to make sure she was okay. Her prayers were answered when he craned his neck toward the lodge while standing in line, lifting a hand to wave at her after spotting her on the porch. April forced a smile, lifting a hand in return, but being acknowledged didn’t soothe the burn of jealousy.
She pictured herself getting up, bolting down the lodge steps and across the snow. She was sure she could make it before they got on the lift again, and when she’d reach them, she’d shove Jane hard enough to make her hit the ground. Chewing on a nail, she hunched her shoulders and glared at Sawyer’s back. A pair of neon-clad skiers sat at the table next to her, their cups of coffee steaming like a pair of smokestacks.
“They only found him because someone out there reported seeing a bunch of wolves,” said one of the men, his ski jacket a painful lime green. “And then yesterday, there was some kind of incident.”
The second skier took a careful sip of coffee. “Up here?”
The first guy nodded, blowing across the top of his drink, the horizontal line of steam wafting away from him, sending that heavenly aroma in April’s direction. “Just shy of the Ridge Runner. Looks like someone decided to take a detour.”
The second skier made a face like he’d just tasted something foul. “Stupid.”
“Yeah, no shit. Probably a couple of dumb kids. It’s all closed off if you go up there.”
“They found a body?”
April furrowed her eyebrows.
Neon guy shrugged. “Like they’ll tell you that, right? Though I kind of doubt it. Seems like they’d have to shut down the entire run, if not the entire mountain.”
“So how do you know it was wolves? They could have just hit a tree, right?”
The first guy lifted his paper cup of coffee as if toasting the lift at the base of the hill. “See that guy working the chair?” April tried to be casual as she glanced toward the lift. Jane and Sawyer were still in line. “He’s got a mouth on him. Mentioned that the ski patrol found blood. A lot of it.”
“Shit,” the second skier responded. “But someone would have heard.”
“Not if it was after hours, and you know how these guys go up at the last minute.”
Skier One frowned, shaking his head. “Lesson learned…”
April cleared her throat softly and rose from the table, suddenly uncomfortable. What if there were wolves? What if Sawyer decided to be an idiot and go off-trail like those other people had? She stepped inside the lodge, considering waiting at the base of the lift to warn the group of possible danger. But that would just make her look like an ass, like she was looking for excuses to ruin their good time. She frowned as she approached a long line inside, the noise inside the lodge nearly deafening with how crowded it was. She needed to soothe her nerves, and an overpriced cup of hot cocoa sounded good.
By the time she finally got her drink she had decided that no, she wouldn’t say anything about what she’d heard. They only had two more days up here after this one, and she was determined to suck it up and be a good sport for Sawyer’s sake. She knew the cabin was for sale, was well aware that Ryan was moving to Europe to be some fancy slope reviewer. For all she knew, she’d never see Ryan Adler again. And despite feeling bad for Sawyer losing touch with a friend, she couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied. They were about to start a new life together, and she didn’t need the poster boy of perfection hanging around and screwing it up.
It had become unbearably cold during their last hour on the slopes. The clear blue sky that had warmed the hills throughout most of the day had become overcast, clouds rolling across the crest of the mountain, settling over the resort, and blanketing it in frigid shadow.
“Just one more time,” Ryan pleaded. “It’ll be quick, I swear.”
Lauren cast a glance at her friend while Jane stood next to her, her teeth chattering, her gloved hands pressed firmly over her hat-covered ears. “I feel like I’m dying,” Jane whined. “Please, let’s just go to the car, okay?”
“But Lauren wants to go up again,” Ryan protested, shooting Lauren a look. “Right?”
Lauren gave both of them a guilty smile while Sawyer looked on, shoulder to shoulder with Jane. “Maybe a little,” Lauren confessed. “But it is cold.”
“You guys are ridiculous,” Jane complained. “Give me the keys; I’m going to the car.”
“Just go to the lodge,” Ryan suggested. “You and Sawyer find April, have some coffee. Chill out for half an hour while we go up one more time.”
Jane winced at the suggestion. Spending time with Sawyer and April was awkward enough, but having coffee with them, alone—she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from slamming her fist into Ryan’s arm for even suggesting it. She tensed when Sawyer’s gloved hand slid up her back and stopped on top of her shoulder.
“Come on,” he said, “let them have their fun.”
“The lift operator won’t let you up anyway,” Jane assured him.
“He will if I give him a twenty. Besides, who could resist this face?” Ryan caught Lauren by the cheeks and squeezed, her lips puckering up like a goldfish. Lauren smiled through her contorted face, and Jane couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Fine, whatever,” she sighed. April would ask them if they had a good time and Sawyer would tell her how hilarious it was when they both fell flat on their backs and laughed into the sky, and April would just stare and scowl and shoot daggers through her eyes. Then Jane would shrug awkwardly and say, “Eh, it was okay,” and April would know she was lying. There was no winning with this scenario.
Lauren faltered, noticing Jane’s unease. She caught Ryan by the wrist just as he was about to slide back to the lift. “Hey, maybe this isn’t that great an idea after all,” she began.
“What? Why?”
“Let’s just go home,” Lauren continued. “Pop in a movie or something.” Jane watched as Lauren gave her brother a wink, admiring the girl for knowing how to get exactly what she wanted. Ryan hesitated, his hand still in hers, and eventually caved to the proposition. If there was one thing Ryan loved more than snow, it was the provocative look on Lauren’s face.
“Fine,” he relented as Sawyer unstrapped his board from his feet.
“I’ll go grab April,” he announced, turning away from the group.
As soon as his back was tu
rned, Jane sighed, her breath steaming ahead of her, wishing he’d just forget April, wishing that Sawyer were giving her a look—the kind that suggested they go back to the cabin, cozy up, and get warm together.
The Nissan’s heater blasted them as they snaked down the mountain, stuck behind a slow-moving minivan, its rear end covered in dozens of bumper stickers. Ryan amused himself by reading them aloud, then settled into grumbling each time the van hit its brakes ahead of the slightest curve. By the time they made it back to the highway, the sun was setting fast. The sky had grown dark around the edges, the sun casting long shadows across the road when it managed to shine through the gloom. Turning onto the road that would lead them back to the cabin, they rambled over weatherworn potholes, the Xterra catching a particularly brutal one beneath a front tire. Ryan cringed, muttering a curse beneath his breath as the car lurched. This road had always been bad, but it seemed worse this time around.
With a good three miles to go until the final turnoff, Jane leaned forward in the passenger seat, squinting at something against the glare of the sunset. Ryan slowed the car, seeing it as well: a stain in the snow, the exact same type of blot they had seen the day before—a swath of red, as though someone had taken a giant paintbrush and made a crimson stroke across the ground.
“What the hell,” Ryan murmured, the Nissan rolling so slowly they all but crawled past it.
“That’s the same one from yesterday,” Lauren said from the back.
“Can’t be,” Ryan answered. “This one is closer to the cabin, and it snowed last night. It would have been covered over. This is fresh.”
Jane twisted in her seat to look at Lauren, noticing that April’s eyes were wide.
“Holy shit,” April whispered to herself.
“What?” Sawyer asked, squinting at the dark spot against snow that was turning blue in the low light. “It’s just some roadkill, right?”
“It’s not roadkill,” Ryan said. The car stopped. They all looked at one another before Ryan unbuckled his seat belt.
“Wait.” Jane blinked at her brother, shaking her head in protest. “You’re not going out there.”