Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (10 page)

I spotted Nicole and her entourage as they walked through the lodge like they were the guests of honor. Janet and I were off to the side, taking a break to warm up and refuel with coffee after a hard morning of training. My face was blotchy and red, hair soaked with sweat and matted to my skin. Nicole, on the other hand, looked like an alternative snow bunny. She wore fluffy pink leg warmers, a matching vest, and skin tight white jeans.

I snorted and turned my back to the center of the lodge as the line for the coffee bar progressed. I couldn’t stand to watch her any longer. “Honestly, I don’t understand what the hell people see in her. She’s so fake.”

“Uh huh,” Janet replied next to me, her nose buried in her phone.

“She pretends to be this hardcore athlete, above all the hype, yet she dresses like that? Not to mention all the social media bullshit. Nothing screams, ‘take me seriously’ quite like thirteen selfies a day.”

“Yup. Totally.”

I glowered at Janet, hand on my hip. I’m not even sure she knew who I was talking about. “You aren’t listening.”

“Sure I am,” she replied without looking up. “Blah, blah, Nicole’s a bitch. Blah, blah, God I hate her. Nothing I haven’t heard before. What I don’t understand is why you even care.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes before turning back around. I nearly collided face first into Nicole who had cut right in front of me in line. She stood there with a smirk on her face like she’d caught me red handed.

“Yeah. Why do you care, Chance of Flurries?” she asked loudly. Her little posse laughed, and I was left feeling like it was tenth grade lunch all over again.

Regardless of the flush of embarrassment in my cheeks, I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. I met her gaze dead on. “Cute,” I replied flatly. “I don’t care, really. I’m simply pointing out that someone who walks around looking like a demented Care Bear obviously craves attention, no matter what she says.”

Janet snickered, but otherwise the area around us remained tense and silent. The muscles in Nicole’s jaw clenched and unclenched before a bright smile hid her anger. “Says the woman on the cover of ten magazines.” She turned her back on me as the line moved forward. Not only had this woman deliberately provoked my anger, but now she was standing between me and caffeine? No. No way.

“Whatever,” I scoffed. “You’re all gear and no idea. Decked out head to toe in shit you haven’t even earned. I bet your fucking tampon is even branded with a sponsor.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said without looking back. “I’ll still have the fastest time.”

“Prove it,” I snapped.

She laughed and glanced over her shoulder at me. “Um, isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

“Race me. Before the competition. Just you and me. Let’s cut all the bullshit, all the hype,” I declared with a wave of my hands, as if I could clear it like smoke.

Because she lacked the ability to make her own decisions, Nicole checked with her coach who replied with an indifferent shrug. He was a gruff, old guy, with a weathered face. She turned half way as she considered the challenge. “When?”

“Now for all I fucking care,” I spat. My legs were jelly, and I had already pushed myself to the point of exhaustion, but it didn’t matter. Pure adrenaline and hatred would pull me over that finish line first.

I could see her little scheming brain working behind those fake, starburst contacts. “Day after tomorrow,” she countered.

“Fine. Whenever, wherever. Doesn’t matter to me,” I shrugged. “Now, if you don’t mind,” I said as I pushed her out of the way to order my coffee. “Two large lattes, please,” I smiled at the stunned barista.

Nicole squeaked indignantly, muttered something I didn’t catch, and stormed away with her group in tow. My heart raced with excitement, and I couldn’t stop grinning.

As I handed Janet her coffee, she gave me a mildly disapproving shake of the head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do. I’m getting in her head.”
Just like she’s been trying to do to me with all those letters…

It was the second to last run of the day and I had a horrible launch out of the gate. My right ski slipped on the third push, completely throwing off my rhythm, and almost sending me sprawling across the steep incline. I cursed under my breath but recovered quickly, tucking into the first corner. The snow was sloppy, choppy, and all around crap. But if I could ski on this, I could ski on anything. West Coast powder really had spoiled me.

It takes a lot of different talents to become a world class skier. Not only do they have to be able to navigate at top speeds, they must make split second decisions at the same time. On race day, I’d be given about an hour to study the course before I entered the blocks. It’s imperative that I not only trust my abilities, but that I’m able to remember specific elements of the terrain. Each mountain is different, each run needs special care and a specific line. The greats, like Bryan, could go down once and get a feel for every bump and turn.

I wasn’t anywhere near that good, so I required a ton of repetition. All week, Janet had tried to replicate what I’d face on race day. She’d place me in the middle of an unfamiliar run, give me one chance to memorize the line I had to take, and then let me loose. That day, I’d been pushing myself and screwing up the fourth and fifth turns. They came in quick succession and were surprisingly steep compared to the rest of the course. I must’ve gone over it with Janet dozens of times but no matter what I did, I came into the fourth turn wide, which flung me way off course by the fifth.

That run was different.

It might’ve even been the screw up in the beginning that got me out of my head long enough to just go with the flow, and let the corners come up naturally. I was still cursing myself for the bad start, but by the time I flew through the fifth corner, I hardly noticed I’d successfully beaten it. Suddenly, everything clicked together in my head. I got out of my own way, and the line I had to take became crystal clear. If I hadn’t been hurtling down a mountain at speeds topping out over sixty miles per hour, I would’ve jumped for joy. Instead, a broad grin spread across my face and stayed there the entire way down.

Janet skated to a stop behind me at the bottom with an equally huge smile. She was a little firecracker and I couldn’t imagine training with anyone else. We had our ups and downs, sure, but she
got
me. We had the same attitude towards life, and wasn’t one to bullshit me when things were going wrong. Praise from her meant something.

“There you go. I knew you could get it!” she cried out as I skidded to a stop. She stepped over my skis and gave me a quick hug. “Now do it again.”

That’s all I was going to get from her, but it was more than enough. “Way ahead of you,” I smiled as I pushed away toward the gondola.

“I’ll hang back here. One more run and then we go in,” she called out, her gloved hands cupped around her mouth.

Mid-week, close to closing for the night, the mountain was mostly empty. I lucked out by grabbing an empty gondola. Taking a seat on the back side, I closed my eyes and visualized the course, slotting in the missing piece of the puzzle. I shifted this way and that as I imagined myself going down, practicing visualizing with muscle memory. I smiled at the memory of Bryan teaching me the technique so many years ago, what could’ve been considered our first date.
I’ll have to remind him when I get in after this
. Pushing him out of my mind, I ran through the course as many times as I could before I was back at the top.

Only a few short minutes later, I completed my first run on Kawarau Peak that made me feel like I had a chance of medaling in the competition. Overjoyed. Elated. Ecstatic. There aren’t adjectives enough to describe how happy I was to finish the course without error and in a competitive time.

“I’m glad something finally clicked for you, but ya’ cut it a little short, girlie,” Janet poked as we walked down to the locker room. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t come around there for a bit.”

“You? Worried? Come on, now. Where’s your unerring faith in my natural born talents?”

“Must’ve left it back in America,” she smirked. She ran her fingers through her short, brown hair, puffing it up from being trapped under a knit hat all day. “Are you meeting Bryan for dinner?”

I nodded as I slipped my phone from the side pocket of my bag, seeing one voice message waiting. We’d extended our cell coverage before we left, but for some reason couldn’t get texts to work, only voice messages.
He’s probably wondering where I am. I can’t wait to tell him the good news!
“Yeah, I think he’s already up there.”

“All right, I’ll let you get showered and changed. I’ve got a bubble bath with my name on it back at the hotel. We’ll meet here tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Bright and early. Thanks, Janet. Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Damn straight you couldn’t,” she laughed as she walked down the hallway.

I smiled as I pushed the door to the locker room open, already pressing the button to listen to the voice mail. I held the phone to my ear and dropped the bag to the floor out of surprise. A tinny, garbled, almost robotic voice echoed through the receiver.

“I’m a little offended you haven’t replied to any of my letters. Didn’t you like them? It’s really poor form to ignore your number one fan.”

The message abruptly cut off. I stared at the phone for a few moments, my hand trembling.
This is definitely escalating
, I thought calmly.
I’ll take this to the police, maybe they can trace the call or something.

I talked myself down from the brink of a panic attack, slowly and steadily getting my things out to grab a fast shower. I dialed Bryan quickly, forcing my voice to remain calm.

“Hey babe, I’m done. Just gonna clean up and I’ll meet you upstairs?”

“Sounds good. I’m already here at the bar.”
Probably being served by the co-ed with the perky tits
, I thought bitterly.

“Cool, all right. See you in a couple then.”

I went through the motions of the shower, still feeling the beginnings of a panic attack constricting my chest.
Everything is fine. You aren’t in immediate danger. Even if you were, you can handle anything that life throws at you
. I moved slowly, methodically, taking solace in the routine of showering to keep my balance. By the time I turned off the hot water and started toweling down, I felt better in control. I might’ve even been humming as I returned to my locker to get dressed.

All that control came crashing down the moment I stepped around the corner. My bag had been moved, placed on the narrow bench between the rows of lockers. Even from a few feet away, I spotted a folded piece of paper delicately balanced on top. I moved to run upstairs and find Bryan, forgetting that I was wearing nothing but a towel and dripping wet.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I repeated, rooted to the spot. I couldn’t decide what to do. Run? Get dressed? It was like my natural barometer for danger had been wrecked, and I didn’t know when I should fight or flee.

I took a deep breath and held it, closing my eyes for a moment to control the panic rising in my chest.
I have to make sure I’m safe enough to get dressed, and then I’ll get out of here.
Wrapping the towel tighter under my armpit, I crept lightly around the small bench towards my bag. Not wanting to take my eyes off my surroundings, I felt my way along the bag to the front pocket. The sound of the zip echoed against the tiles but I moved quickly. I dove into the pocket and groped around until I felt cold metal, threading a key between each knuckle. The letter fell to the floor and I left it, folded and unread.

It was a small space, only four rows of lockers, the showers, a dressing area, and the toilet stalls. I hadn’t heard anyone come in while I was showering, but obviously someone had. I couldn’t be completely sure that I was now alone. I tip-toed to the main door and locked it with a clunk. I began searching the perimeter of the room, my back pressed to the wall, trying to resist the urge to puke.

Nobody’s here. You’re alone and better yet, I think this all but proves Nicole is the person who has been sending you letters. She just wanted to freak you out.
I tried to convince myself, but couldn’t. I felt exposed, watched, so completely violated, but I couldn’t give into those emotions. Like too many times before in my life, I’d slipped into survival mode. Numb, detached, adrenaline coursing through my veins.