Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (13 page)

The stalker was getting to me more than I let on with Liz. I brushed it off, but even in all my years of racing and fame, I never received anything other than fan mail. Maybe my family kept the crazies away from me, but the worst I ever received was a marriage proposal from a 54-year-old woman. Even then, she seemed friendly enough… just a little lonely.

I switched off the shower and stood for a moment, leaning on the wall. I rested my forehead against the cold tile and watched the water drip from my hair.
I need her. I need to be there for her. It’s all pointless unless she’s safe and we’re rock solid.

____________

An hour later, I found Janet on the back patio of the lodge. A suite of equipment was spread out on the tables around her, a veritable command center. Two laptops, a huge walkie-talkie, notebooks, paperwork… it covered every surface around her. She’d nabbed two big benches near the bonfire and set up camp. I couldn’t help but laugh as I approached.

“You know they have a fire inside, right? Food, water, you know, shelter?”

Her golden brown eyes twinkled as she looked up at me. Rather than respond, she plucked up the walkie-talkie and spoke. “I have a special surprise here for you.” She thrust the heavy device out and Liz’s voice crackled through.

“Nicole lost a leg in a tragic pedicure accident?”

“Not quite,” I said as I pressed the button. “How you doing, babe?”

“Bryan! You’ve got awesome timing. Hold on, we’re almost at the top.”

I handed the walkie-talkie back to Janet. “What’s going on?”

She pointed to a large dark window on one of the screens. “We hired a tracker for the day. He had a little technical difficulty getting the live stream set up, but you managed to arrive just as she’s about to take her first run with him.”

“Ah, no way! I wish they had stuff like this when I was training. My dad had to hang out in trees with binoculars to watch me go down.” My bad mood lifted slightly. In a few minutes, I’d be able to watch Liz ski like I was right behind her. “How’s she doing, anyway?”

Janet pursed her lips and shrugged. “On skis, great. Off… she doesn’t have her head on straight. Any way you can help?”

“I’ll do my best, but you know how she is.”

Just then, the walkie-talkie crackled. “You sure you can keep up with me? There’s no point if you aren’t right there, on top.” Janet and I smiled at each other as we listened to Liz tell off the poor cameraman, unaware she was being broadcast. A man’s voice responded but I couldn’t understand what he said. Liz’s reply was enough. “It’s also your job to make sure my coach can see what you’re recording, and we both know how well that’s worked out so far.”

Janet pressed her call button a couple times while laughing. The speaker crackled and Liz came back. “Hey guys, we’re just about ready. You set down there?”

“We don’t have a feed yet… oh, wait.” Janet turned the laptop as the screen started to flicker. An image of a pair of skis and trampled powder came up. “Move around a bit.” After a slight delay, the camera moved, and then panned up, perfectly framing Liz’s face.

Hidden behind the orange tinted goggles and white helmet, the only recognizable part was her broad, beautiful smile. She wore her new racing suit, perfectly hugging each gorgeous curve of her body. My admiration must’ve been obvious, because Janet snickered.

“Bryan says it’s coming in nice and clear.” She gave me a little wink before continuing, her voice serious. “All right, you know what to do. Forget about the camera, hit those points we talked about. Watch coming in too close to gate nine, and we’ll talk when you get to the bottom.”

“Ten-four little buddy. See you at the bottom.” We watched Liz reply, giving the camera a little wave before settling into place. She adjusted her gloves, her goggles, stomped the snow off her skis. I understood the repetition, the superstition behind such habits. Every time she headed down, she would perform the same routine.

As she launched forward, Janet glued her eyes to the screen, a notepad and pen at the ready. The camera hovered a few feet behind until they got up to top speed. While she had to hug the line of the course, weaving in and around the red and blue gates, the cameraman was free to roam across the expanse. He went wide as she tucked into a corner, capturing a moment where her left ski slipped out from under her, which Janet duly noted.

Now tight behind, the camera captured Liz’s tight crouch as they flew over a small jump. She landed perfectly, her ankles and knees pressed so tightly together they could’ve been tied.

I soared down the mountain with her. I missed the exhilaration, the burning in my legs, and the cold bite against my face. At one point, I stopped watching her, but pinned my gaze to the course ahead, mapping out the turns I’d make. My body leaned and tensed with each imagined corner, bump, and jump. Skiing, true downhill Super-G skiing, felt like a phantom limb.

Watching her ski like this brought up a whole host of new emotions. I swelled with pride, but ached with jealousy.
It’s not fair
, every cell in my body seemed to scream. I deserved to be out there too. No one had sacrificed more than me. No one.

“Yes!” Janet hissed, clapping her hands together once. It pulled my attention back to Liz just in time to see her wobble on a corner.

About to miss a gate, she overcorrected and cut the corner short. I watched in silent horror as her ski clipped the side of the gate, wrenching her leg around at a violent speed. She disappeared into a cloud of snow as she slammed against the ground. The cameraman immediately slowed, the focus sliding to the right and up the hill as he came to a stop.

“Jesus, Liz,” I whispered. I was suddenly at Janet’s shoulder, though I didn’t remember pushing myself so close to the screen.

The camera swung around and focused on her heaped body sixty, seventy yards down the slope. She didn’t move. I held my breath as he skied closer. It came out in a shudder when I saw her limbs start to move.
Oh thank God, she’s not paralyzed at least.

“I’m sending patrol up,” Janet radioed over.

“Copy that,” a deep voice responded. But in the background, I thought I could hear Liz. He crouched down beside her just as she pushed up onto her hands.

I didn’t need to be a lip reader to see she was cursing up a storm. She pulled the goggles from her face and flung them back over the helmet. Ripping the gloves from her hands, she wiped chunks of ice and snow from her ruddy face. Liz gestured towards the camera, shaking her open hand insistently until the cameraman handed her the radio. We watched in relief as she called in.

“I’m fine. I’m a fucking idiot, but fine. Don’t call patrol. I just knocked the wind outta myself.”

“Are you sure? Don’t be a hero,” Janet replied.

“I’m seriously okay. I’ll be down in a minute.” Through the bravado, I knew she was shaken up.

I stepped away from the screen and looked up at the mountain, waiting to see her bright purple suit floating down the white snow. Tense worry thrummed through my body, only easing when I spotted her slowly winding down towards us.

She skidded to a halt, swiftly kicking out of her skis and bending to pick them up. She flashed an embarrassed smile. “Even if everything else goes tits up, at least we can post the video on YouTube, right?”

“Something like that,” I said, giving her a quick hug. I held her face in my hands and studied her eyes. “You’re all right?”

She nodded and smiled softly. “I’m okay. Sorry to scare you.”

Janet called out from behind. “Why don’t you two go get something to eat? Recoup, recover, and come back in a half hour or so?”

Liz’s hand trembled on my arm. “That’s a good idea. If you grab a table, I’ll meet you inside in a minute. I just need to go over a couple things with Janet.”

As I sat at the bench-style table waiting for her to come inside, I tried to ignore my shaky nerves by distracting myself with my phone. I swiped it open, and idly pressed the email button, barely aware of what I was doing.
God, she could’ve gotten seriously hurt there. Maybe she did and doesn’t realize it. I can’t count how many times I took a hit and didn’t feel the injury until I cooled down. Even a tiny broken bone in your foot can screw things up.

My phone dinged. Email.
Shit
.
It’s from Angela
. I looked around to make sure Liz wasn’t nearby and opened it.

Hey sweetie,

I’m doing a little summer cleaning and came across a couple of your things. Do you want me to mail them to you? Are you still in Tellure? Let me know! Say hi to your mom for me!

Ang xoxox

I gritted my teeth and quickly typed out a reply, hoping she would get my double meaning.

Whatever it is you have, I obviously don’t miss it. Trash it or give it to some other guy who wants it.

Bryan

We sat across from one another, munching on overpriced chicken fingers and fries. I glanced over at her police escort, who sat a few tables away.

“He doesn’t ride up the mountain with you?”

She snorted. “No, but he gets to go in and clear out the bathroom whenever I need to take a piss. I’m sure he loves that.”

Liz was quiet, probably mentally kicking herself for a mistake she thought was amateur. I wanted to help, to offer a little bit of advice, but doing so would open up a whole host of other issues. Instead, I opted to pull her out of her funk another way.

“Do you remember your first lesson?”

She looked up, her blue eyes bright against her red, wind-burned cheeks. “Um, of course. It was the first time a man ever sexually molested me through a ski suit.”

I arched an eyebrow, glad to see my sarcastic Liz coming out. “The first time, huh? There have been others?”

She shrugged, popping a ketchup drenched fry into her mouth. “Comes with the sport. It’s all the same instructor, though. I should probably report him.”

I laughed and cradled my head in my hands. “I was never sure if you felt it. Those snow pants are pretty thick.”

“I was wedged against your crotch. The pants aren’t
that
thick,” she laughed. She looked up at me and chewed on her straw thoughtfully. It was good to see her smile again. “What made you think of that?”

“I don’t know. Seeing you just now, how good your form has gotten, how ballsy you are. It sparked the memory of our first lesson.”

She scoffed and bit into a chicken finger. “Yeah, ballsy. Balls first onto the ground.”

“Like Dad always used to say, we fight time and gravity up there, forces that beat up everyone eventually.”

A comfortable silence fell between us as we ate until Liz spoke up. “How did your PT go this morning?”

I tensed. This was my chance to open up, to stop keeping her at arm’s length. A lump formed in my throat, which I tried to wash down with a sip of soda. My delay only piqued her interest. Liz rested her chin on her hand and stared at me, waiting for my response.

I sighed, leaned back, and crossed my arms. “Horrible.”

“Ah,” she nodded, apparently appeased by my answer. “Up days and down days.”

“No, they’re all pretty much down days.” I rolled my eyes as she studied my face. Talking about my feelings had never come easy. Being vulnerable when you wanted nothing more than to be strong was beyond difficult. “I’m not doing well, Liz. I don’t think I’m ever going to get back on the mountain.”

“Of course you will. Don’t be so negative,” she said.

“Liz, you have to listen to me. I’m not being negative. Dr. Snyder told me a couple months ago that my progress has slowed. They thought with the extra PT, I might gain more mobility but…” my voice trailed off. I choked up, unable to fully voice the diagnosis. I couldn’t even tell her that the kind doctor had told me my progress had not just slowed but stagnated.

“But that just means you work harder,” she said as she reached across the table for me.

I pulled away, fighting back the tears. “No, not this time. The surgery didn’t take. Doc made it clear that my therapy is now in maintenance mode. If I want to be able to sit on the floor and stand up when I’m forty, I’ll need to keep it up in some form or fashion for the rest of my life. I’m never racing again.”

“We get a second opinion,” she said firmly.