Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (19 page)

After a couple of days spent processing the accident and everything surrounding Paige’s disappearance, Liz and I started to get back to normal. With her injuries, she wasn’t able to train or even exercise that much, which was a blessing in disguise. It meant that for a rare few days, we had more time together than we’d had in months. It was probably the only thing that guided our relationship through that rocky patch.

Thankfully, the wall I’d felt her beginning to build the night of the accident hadn’t taken shape, I think largely in part to my fake confidence. I reassured her that the police would find Paige, and apologized profusely for not listening to her in the first place. Everything I did was geared towards taking as much of the stress off of her and carrying it myself. It was the least I could do, even if I was scared shitless inside.

That evening, we even curled up on the sofa to watch a movie for the first time in I can’t remember how long. Cuddled under a blanket together, my arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, it felt almost… normal. As the credits rolled and I stood to turn on the lights, Liz grew somber.

“Do you think I should go tomorrow?”

I fixed my expression before turning around. I had to be supportive of her decisions, no matter what misgivings I had. “Do you think you should go? Are you feeling up to it?”

Liz frowned and twisted gingerly in her seat. “My mobility isn’t what I want it to be, but I think it’s good enough to race.” She gave me a guilty look, opened her mouth, and then clapped it shut.

“What? Spit it out,” I chuckled. I took a seat on the footstool in front of her, taking her hands in my own.

She rolled her eyes before continuing, and I could tell she didn’t want to speak her mind. “I just… it’s terrible. I can’t.”

“Come on, what?”

“I feel like I
should
race because my main competitor has had to pull out.” She met my eye, gauging my reaction. “That’s pretty shitty, isn’t it? To think like that?”

I squeezed her hand and shrugged. “It’s a competition. It’s not like you put her out of the race. You have every right to take advantage of her absence.”

“But I wished her harm. Bryan,” she said as she leaned back and crossed her arms, “you know I would’ve choked the life outta that chick if I’d gotten a minute alone with her.”

I laughed despite her serious tone. “I know, but you didn’t. You didn’t do anything to her. Besides, I’m more worried about you. You can’t carry around some weird survival guilt. As long as you, Janet, and the doctor are okay with it, then I’m okay.”

Liz chewed on her cheek and studied me as she thought. “I don’t see what it could hurt. At the very worst, I pull out a few stitches and discover I’m not race-fit.” Her voice trembled, revealing the genuine worry behind her confidence.

I stood, making a point to dramatically check the time on my phone. “Well, you’re gonna be hurtin’ tomorrow morning if you don’t go to bed soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks coach,” she laughed as I helped her to her feet. “I’ll go get my stuff ready, just in case.”

“I’m gonna make us some tea before bed,” I called out as I watched her disappear down the hall.
That should buy me enough time.

I waited until I heard the bathroom door click shut before jumping to action. I pulled another red envelope from under the cutting board and headed straight for the front door. Closing it quietly behind, I gingerly made my way up the slippery drive to the police cruiser.

A young man saw me coming and rolled down his window. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, my breath coming out as a white puff in the light. “I wanted to give this to you guys. It came with a bunch of other get well cards. I think it’s another letter from her stalker.”

I watched as the policeman opened it, turning on the interior light to read it aloud. “‘Five. So, you’re still alive?’ Christ, okay,” he said.

“I don’t know how or when it’d come up, but could you not mention this to Liz? I’m trying to keep as much of this from her as possible and…”

“Yeah, sweet as. I’ll turn this in when I’m done with my shift in a couple hours and pass along the message.”

“Great, thanks.”

I tried to make it back to the house before Liz noticed my absence, but I’d taken far too long. As I opened the front door, she was just coming back from the kitchen, her face filled with worry.

“I called for you and you didn’t answer,” she said shakily.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry,” I said as I shut and locked the door. “I just wanted to check with the guys up there before bed, I should’ve said something.”

Liz looked at me dubiously before turning back down the hall. “All right, well come to bed.”

____________

A few hours later, well past midnight, I was left staring at the ceiling. Liz snored lightly beside me, her breathing deep, steady, reassuring. Yet a building anxiety grew in my chest the longer I laid there. It felt like a rubber band, twisting and cranking to the point I felt like it was going to snap. With all my bravado, my boasting that I had everything under control, I was scared shitless.

Before we went to sleep, Liz asked a question that kept running through my mind. “You know what I wonder?”

“What’s that?”

“The letters have come sequentially, right? But I never got letter nine. I wonder what happened to it?”

I’d kissed the top of her head, not trusting my voice at first. “I’m sure it just got lost in the mail or something. Go to sleep, it’s not something you should worry about. It’s probably a good thing you don’t collect the whole set, right?”

But I did know what had happened to it. Shortly after receiving the seventh, I’d called home and gotten our friend Walt to check the mail. Sure enough, we’d just missed the letter. It’d arrived the day we had left for New Zealand. After walking the old man through the process, I’d gotten him to send me a digital photo of the letter.

“Nine. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” written on the back of another photo. It was the moment I crashed into the orange fence, my career ending accident that shattered my dreams.

The idling of Janet’s rental car was both comforting and foreboding. Shutting the front door behind me as quietly as I could, I stood in the cold darkness. The air stung my lungs as I breathed slowly, deeply.

Am I really doing this?
I wondered.
Am I seriously going to get back on that mountain?

I’m not ashamed to admit, I nearly turned around and went back inside. It was the momentum of two years that pushed me forward.

“Little, baby steps. First, I’ll get in the car,” I whispered.

Janet gave me a squinty smile as I opened the door, the dome light blinding her temporarily. “Morning, sunshine,” she said happily.

“It’s a miracle I’m up before the sunshine,” I replied.

Janet frowned as I climbed into the passenger seat. I moved awkwardly to keep my torso rigid, and winced as I was forced to bend. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

I slammed the door shut and exhaled loudly. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, Janet’s face cast in a dim light from the headlights. “No, but I’m doing it anyway.”

She turned to me, pulling her arm over the back of my headrest. “What you’ve been through, no one would blame you if…”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”
End of story. Please don’t ask again because I might actually change my mind.

Janet studied my face for a heartbeat and nodded. “All right then. Coffee?” she asked, gesturing to a cup waiting in the cup holder.

“Christ, woman. When have you ever known me to say no to a free coffee? Or any coffee, for that matter?” I peeled my gloves off, and gripped the paper cup with both hands as she started down the road.

“I wanted to make sure you had a bit of energy for this morning. You’ve been entirely too lazy the past couple days and I won’t tolerate it.”

“Oh yeah,” I scoffed. “Four days off, and all that training is shot to hell. Next time I get attacked by some lunatic, I’ll ask them to check with you first, make sure it fits in with your training schedule. Sound good?”

I’d meant it as a funny response but all too often, I forget people don’t share my dark sense of humor. Even Bryan, who knows and loves me, is still shocked with what I come out with sometimes. My outlook on life is just a product of all the shit I’ve lived through. If I can’t laugh at it, then I’m not sure I could continue functioning.

The dark sky slowly softened with each passing second. I loved watching the morning light chase away the night. I’d always found daybreak to be so pure and personal. The sharp edges of the mountain on the other side of the lake glowed white with fresh snow as we descended into Queenstown.

“Have they gotten any leads on her yet?” Janet asked somberly.

I tugged at my knit hat. “No, nothing. Apparently disappeared into thin air. As far as they can tell, she hasn’t left the country yet.”

“This is all assuming she wasn’t using a different identity,” Janet added.

“Precisely.”

There was a pause in the conversation as I felt Janet glance at me. “Nicole is gonna pull through. Apparently she has full mobility in her legs, no lasting damage.”

A weight I wasn’t aware of lifted from my conscience. I didn’t like the woman but I never wished her permanent injury. Plus, the fact she’d recover left me feeling less guilty about carrying on. “Good,” I whispered. “That’s really good.”

I’d learned early on in life that the idea of fake it ‘til you make it actually works. Acting confident is more than half the battle. If you keep up the appearance long enough, you’ll eventually start believing it yourself. So that’s why, the entire way there, a small mantra echoed through my mind.

I’m strong enough. I can do this. I’m strong enough. I will do this.

By the time we reached the lodge, the very tips of the Remarkables were painted with bright sunlight. I appreciated Janet’s concern for me, but she also wasn’t the kind of person to handle me with kid gloves. When I said I was good to go, she took my word for it. As we pulled up to the lodge, we were laughing and joking like nothing had happened, just getting ready for another day out on the slopes. I was so relaxed that when we walked into the locker room, I didn’t hesitate a bit.

“I was thinking we could work on the slalom first this morning. If you’re going to race, we need to know how much turning and movement you can actually do,” Janet said as she set her bag down on the bench.

“Yeah, makes sense.” I pulled off my jacket and twisted side to side gingerly. “It’s not bad, just a little sore.”

“Can I see?” Janet asked, glancing at my torso.

“You freak,” I laughed. I pulled up my shirt and peeled the taped gauze away from the wound. The skin around the sutures looked good, like it was healing well. “It was really red a couple days ago, but it’s much better now.”

Janet stood and flashed her own flat, taut stomach, revealing a curved scar just above her pelvis. “They opened up the original incision when I had Jaden. I love my scars,” she said as she traced the line of it with her finger. “They’re reminders of pain we’ve survived, struggles that didn’t kill us.”

I smiled, more to myself than anything. “I know exactly what you mean.” Since meeting Bryan, I’d come to love scars, especially since we shared so many of them between us. “I can’t imagine myself without them.”