Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (17 page)

I nodded, snapping my goggles into place. I skied over to the start, an arbitrary line someone had stomped out in the snow. I stood on my edges facing Nicole, my poles planted to keep me upright against the steep slope.

“Race to the finish, first across the line wins,” her coach said. “No bumping, tripping, or contact of any sort. Any questions?”

“I have one thing to say,” Nicole said, raising her hand. She thrust out her hip and grinned. “I just wanted to thank you, Liz.”

“For what?” I growled.

“For giving me the opportunity to beat you twice.”

“Can we get on with this already?” I snapped at the coach, who was trying to stifle his laughter. His tanned, weathered skin wrinkled with a broad smile.

“Sure, sure,” he waved. “Count is three, two, one, go.”

We both crouched into position, the click of cameras behind us. I shifted all my weight, ready to launch downhill, hoping to beat her out of the gate, so to speak. I controlled my breathing and tensed, waiting for the count.

“Three, two, one… Go!”

We nearly collided as we both sprang to action, but my strong legs powered me out to a quick lead. Planting my poles hard into the snow, I pushed myself forward until we reached the first turn. I dove aggressively into the corner, cutting her off. The sharp edges of my skis held me steady through the building speed.

I could hear Nicole only a few feet behind, the
swish
of her skis along the granular snow. Coming out of the turn, I tucked into a tight crouch, pulling my poles tight against my body. There was a small straight where I hoped my weight would carry me further ahead. Seconds, that’s all I needed. Just a few extra seconds would be enough to win.

I maintained my lead through the first part of the course, but only by a fraction. I did my best to ignore Nicole’s presence, to race like Janet had instructed, but seeing and hearing her in my peripheral made me take greater risks than I would’ve otherwise.

She overtook me about half way down the mountain. As I was preparing for a tight turn coming up fast, the ground unexpectedly dropped away, throwing me a foot into the air. Nicole saw the jump, tucked into it, and gracefully floated to the ground.

I cursed loudly as I fought for my balance, flinging an arm and leg out to catch myself. One simple mistake, distracted for a fraction of a second to try and get the advantage over her, and I’d lost the lead. We skated around the corner, and the course narrowed before us as it fell steeply.

High walls of rock rose on either side, tall pines making the cavernous chute feel even more imposing. I tucked as low as I could, urging gravity to pull me harder and faster than I’d ever wanted it to before. I chased her into the shadowy valley, hell bent on catching up at any cost. A bright beam of sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating the end of the rocky formation.

For a split second, Nicole glanced back over her shoulder to check how close I was. That moment has replayed over and over in my head, sometimes deliberately but mostly in my nightmares. I think that fraction of a second she took to look back was ultimately what kept her from dying on the mountain. The way she positioned herself made all the difference in the world.

She turned forward again as we approached the end of the chute and suddenly, she was on the ground. Sixty to zero in a fraction of a second. A spray of blood arced through the air, streaking the snow with a crimson beauty as her limp body slid down at an incredible speed. I instinctively threw the heel of my skis out to slow down, but I was also traveling too fast. I straightened out of the crouched position in confusion. I thought she’d slipped, fallen, all in the blink of an eye. But the way she’d fallen didn’t physically make sense…

As I slowed, a searing pain caught me just under the ribs. Before I realized what’d happened, I was flat on my back, sliding down the hill. The edge of my right ski caught on the snow, spinning me around so I came to a stop with my head pointing downhill.

Dazed, I picked my head up to look around and saw my suit split like someone had taken a razor to my torso. Bright blood seeped from the stinging wound. I looked around, the world disorienting from my sudden vantage. My head lolled to the side and I caught a glimpse of Nicole splayed motionless twenty feet away.

A movement in the distance just beyond in the trees caught my attention. I fought through the shock to focus. A figure, a person, standing in the deep shadows of the forest. I felt their eyes on me. I thought at first it could be an eager photographer waiting to catch a shot of the race. I tried to call out for help but something about their body language held my tongue. I could tell they wanted to come forward but were worried.

Moments later, I heard the sound of our coaches and friends following down the course. I lifted my head and stretched out my arm, trying to scream a warning. When nothing but a squeak came out, I squeezed my eyes shut. After the horror of Nicole’s crash, I didn’t want to see Janet hurt, too. I only opened them as I heard her shout my name, unclip from her skis, and rush over.

“Liz, don’t move. Help is coming. Jesus… what happened?”

I squeezed her hand and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I replied in a raspy voice. “There was…” I looked to the forest beyond for the figure but found nothing.

“Okay, lie still. You’re gonna be okay.” She cradled my head in her lap. I looked up at her and felt safe, her motherly strength making everything seem okay. Except her gaze wasn’t on me. She looked down the hill towards Nicole, her face contorting as she fought back tears.

Within moments, the distant roar of the ski patrol grew louder. I kept my eyes closed, and concentrated on my breathing.

A murmur rippled through the crowd a couple of minutes after Liz and Nicole were due to finish. Instantly, a jab of dread stabbed me in the chest. Almost on cue, three men in bright red ski patrol jackets sprinted from their cabin at the base of the far slope and jumped onto their snowmobiles. Two dragged emergency sleds behind as they zipped up the mountain.

Suddenly lightheaded, I bent over and fought against the growing nausea. My mind was a muddle of random thoughts.
I shouldn’t have let her go. Did she have her helmet when she left this morning? Of course she did, she never skis without it. If Nicole did this to her, so help me…
It was a deep, primal knowledge that something was horribly wrong, that she was hurt and there was nothing I could do. I could only wait for them to bring her back down.

Without realizing, I’d begun to pace back and forth, my gaze fixed at the highest point of the slope they had meant to finish on. The crowd that had gathered for the impromptu battle backed away, giving me space like I was some kind of prowling animal. It was only when I stopped for a moment that a woman came close enough to comfort me. Wordlessly, she put a hand on my back, her gloved hand swishing against my jacket as she soothed me. I barely knew she was there.

At the first sight of the snowmobiles, I sprinted as hard as I could up to meet them. My feet slipped and slid in the snow, knees and hips screaming at the odd twists. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
Liz, my Liz…

From a distance, I recognized Nicole because of her suit. Two patrolmen escorted her down, jumping from the snowmobiles and pulling her quickly to the shack. The scream of an ambulance whirred through the air from a distance as she disappeared inside. I paused, watching for any movement, any hint of what could’ve happened. My gaze fell to a small path of blood in the snow, left when they stopped for only a few seconds.
Not good…

The second snowmobile rounded the top of the hill and began to descend. I’m not sure if it was merely my perception, but this one drove with less urgency. With my heart in my throat, the darkest part of my brain thought,
She’s dead. That’s why they aren’t rushing.

When I saw Liz move, I released a cry and sprinted towards her. The patrolman was just unhooking the sled from the snowmobile when I reached them. Her arms and legs were strapped inside, but she looked at me as I yelled out her name.

“Liz!”

The weak smile she gave me made my heart soar. Fueled by adrenaline, I helped the patrolman carry her inside, placing her on an empty bed.

“Hey you,” she said weakly.

“Hey,” I whispered, brushing a piece of dark hair from her eyes.

“Think you can loosen these straps?” she asked, wiggling her fingers. As a safety measure, they had fully secured her in the sled.

The seasoned patrolman met my eye on the other side of the table, and shook his head once. “We don’t know the extent of your injuries yet, ma’am. Best to keep you still.” He peeled away a wad of blood soaked dressing, and reapplied a fresh one. “Mind keeping pressure on this for me, mate? I think they might need my help over there.”

I nodded, coming around to the other side of her. She winced as I pressed against the wound. I stole a peek at Nicole as the curtains parted open. It was a calmly chaotic state. Several people tended to different areas of her body while another was relaying injuries to the emergency response team en route.
So much blood…

“Someone was out there,” Liz said harshly.

“Someone? This wasn’t… what happened?”

With her eyes closed, she shook her head and licked her dry lips. “I don’t know, but someone was there.”

____________

I couldn’t concentrate on a thing the doctor said. I kept looking at her in that hospital bed, alternating between overwhelming joy that she was okay and crushing fear at what could’ve happened.
What would I do if I’d lost her?

She seemed to sense my disquiet, reaching out for my hand and being the one to offer comfort. Her laugh brought my attention back to the conversation at hand.

“That’s not going to be a problem,” she chuckled.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” I replied, looking back and forth between them.

“I was just saying that Liz is going to have to get stitches,” the gray-haired doctor repeated.

“And that it might scar,” she added with a grin. “Like, why not? Let’s add another to the set, right? Cheaper than tattoos!”

I shook my head at her strength. Only Liz would be able to find the dark humor in a situation like this.

“Like I said, the wound is superficial. You were lucky you turned at the last second, or it could’ve done a lot more damage. Once we get you all patched up, we’ll send you home with aftercare instructions. I want you to take it easy, though.”

“Will I be able to race?” she asked. I looked at her in shock, not believing I’d actually heard her ask that question. “What?” she continued. “It’s just a question.”

The doctor frowned slightly, and studied her face for a moment. “When is the competition?”

“A little under two weeks,” I said.

“I’m not going to say no, but I will want someone to check on the healing before you go ahead. There’s a lot of twisting and movement in that area of the body, so it entirely depends on how the wound progresses.” He gathered up her folder and rested his hand on the curtain. “Any other questions for me?”

“No, thank you so much for everything,” Liz smiled.

As the doctor pulled the curtain away, Janet poked her head inside. “Room for one more?”

“My savior!” Liz grinned. “Get your ass over here.”

The two embraced gently before Janet pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed and laughed. “Don’t you ever give me a scare like that again.”

“I don’t plan on it. How’s Nicole?” Liz asked quietly. Janet looked at me as if she weren’t sure she should answer. I wanted to tell her that Liz was stronger than any other person I’d ever met. It was me she should be worried about, if anyone. I was falling apart at the seams. “Come on, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“I just talked to Hans, her coach, in the waiting room. Apparently she’s in surgery right now. Extensive lacerations, internal damage, blood loss…” Janet’s voice caught and she looked away. “She also broke her neck in two places. They aren’t sure how bad it is yet, not until she wakes up.”

Liz gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. I stared at the IV taped to her skin and fought back my own tears.
It could’ve been her. It could’ve been so different…

“Is she… will she be able to walk?”