Witching You Weren’t Snowed In (Witching You #2)

Chapter 11

Leo

I paced in front of my office window, watching the snow. The storm that started as a few flakes had progressed into nearly white-out conditions. An hour had passed since Sage went up the chairlift, and I told Valerie to let me know once she made it back to the lodge. So far, Valerie hadn’t radioed in.

“I’m going to have to call you back. There’s an emergency,” I said into the phone, ending the conference call early.

A bad feeling twisted in my gut. I shouldn’t have let Aaron and the other girls take Sage up the mountain. But what was I supposed to do? Embarrass her by hauling her over my shoulder, and then tying her to the chair in my office so I could keep my eyes on her?

It sounded like a sane plan now that the snow was flying and my adrenaline raced because she hadn't returned. But before, it was only a jealous instinct crossed with mistrust over their intentions.

Aaron and I weren't friends. Not for a long time.

I grabbed the radio and left my office, walking through the staff area of the lodge until I entered the lobby. A few guests milled through the area and warmed their hands by the fire.

Shouts and laughter erupted from the dining area, and I headed for it, hoping to see Sage sitting at the bar doing shots and laughing over the group photo they'd taken at the top of the mountain.

I scanned the groups of people, spotting Aaron and the two others at a table in the corner. A half-filled pitcher of beer sat in front of them, and they clinked glasses, then chugged back the brew.

“Did you see her face?” Blair said, mopping up a puddle of beer she’d drunkenly spilled with her napkin. “She really thought we wanted to hang out.”

My footsteps paused, hearing the ridicule in Blair’s voice, confirming my worst fears. I wrapped my hands around the back of her chair and squared my jaw.

“Where is Sage?”

Gretchen snickered, then hiccuped. “She’s probably still on the trail.”

I glared at Aaron. “You left her up there? The weather turned. It's dangerous. What were you thinking?”

“She’ll be fine, Leo. Chill. You always get so uptight over that girl. She's not like us.”

“I know.” I snapped. “That's a good thing. What trail did you take?”

Aaron rose from his seat and rounded the table. He hooked his thumbs into his belt buckles and smirked. “The Gauntlet. ”

“A double black diamond? You're such a jerk, Aaron.”

He scoffed. “I'm the jerk? You think you're so much better than us. I’ll bet you still haven't told Sage what your father made you do.” He stepped closer, jutting his chin in my face, nostrils flaring. “How do you think she'd feel if she knew the truth about you and your family, and the lengths you’d go to hurt people?”

A red haze blurred my vision. “Get out. All of you.” I gritted my teeth and pointed toward the exit. “Get your bags and get off my mountain. If you're not gone by the time I get back, I won't need to call security. I'll throw you out myself.”

I left as Aaron sputtered, and the girls whined about finishing their drinks. I grabbed my gear and skis from the locker, spotting Valerie as she rushed into the patrol office.

“Good, you’re here,” she said, shrugging into her jacket and following me outside. “I think Sage is still somewhere on the mountain. We already closed the lifts and ski patrol is out clearing the trails, making sure everyone gets back safely.” Valerie chewed on her lip, worry in her eyes. “This storm came out of nowhere.”

“I know. I'm going to find her. She’s on The Gauntlet. I'll radio if I need help.”

“Be careful, Leo. That's a nasty trail. Especially in this weather.”

I nodded, but I didn't need the reminder. It was our toughest slope. Sage wouldn't have been ready for it on a sunny day, let alone in this mess.

My hands clenched around my ski poles, but I would have preferred they were clenched around Aaron's neck.

I skied toward the lift while the attendant got it running. The ride up was a method of torture; the chair juddering slowly through the wind-driven snow. I tensed with the sway of the lift, trying not to imagine every hazardous pitfall Sage might have encountered.

This was my fault. I manipulated her into helping me and then left her with those idiots, still obsessed with childish pranks. I knew better. Had witnessed how some people treated her when we were younger. She shouldn't have had to experience it then, and especially not now when I should have protected her.

Aaron was right about one thing, though. I wasn't some innocent bystander in our past, and if she found out what had happened years ago, she'd never speak to me again. After this, maybe she shouldn't.

I exited the lift and skied toward the trail, keeping low against the howling wind. Snow pummeled my goggles and made visibility a challenge. My heart rattled behind my rib cage and a sick feeling gnawed at my insides.

The trail they’d taken came into view, and I scanned the area, then slanted over the ledge, dropping onto the sheer face of the slope. My skis screeched across the ice before hitting loose powder, jarring my knees. The moguls were rough and barely visible, forcing me to expect the dips and brace against the impact .

A pair of skis appeared on the edge of the trail, and I swerved to a stop. They were rentals and looked like the pair Sage had worn.

“Good girl,” I murmured, making sure she wasn't waiting on the side of the trail. She'd taken off her skis instead of trying to battle the slope. Walking wouldn't be easy, but she'd have more control.

Leaving the skis behind, I continued down the trail. My eyes tracked back and forth, careful I didn't miss her. I squinted, spotting a bright-colored jacket against the wall of white. Sage was in the distance and she had looked back up the mountain.

I raised my ski pole, thinking she'd spotted me when I heard the sound. The breath froze in my lungs. A whoosh filled the air as a section of snow let loose, sliding straight toward her.

It happened so fast. Sage reacted, first trying to run, then she veered toward the edge of the trail, lunging to avoid the rushing snow. She didn't make it far enough, and the avalanche clipped her legs, knocking her to the ground. She wasn’t moving as the snow settled.

I sucked in a breath, only remembering to breathe when my lungs seized. My mouth was dry, nerves shot as I leaned forward, letting my skis slice through the loose snow.

It was difficult to balance, and only years on the slopes and experience as an instructor kept me upright. I reached Sage in under a minute and clicked out of my skis, boots sinking in the deep snow.

She still hadn't moved, and I scrambled on my knees to her side.

“Sage?” Panic laced my voice. I bent over her, brushing snow from her face. My throat ached, and I didn't recognize the hoarse sound breaking the silence. “Bennett, wake up.”

She winced, blinking open her eyes with a soft moan.

“Leo? Is that you?”

Relief exploded in my chest, nearly making me dizzy. I rested my hands on her shoulders, preventing her from sitting up.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don't move yet. Just breathe for a second. Do you hurt anywhere?” I asked, gently running my hands over her limbs to check for broken bones.

“I don't think so. Wait, yes, my head hurts. I think I used it to break my fall.” A weak smile warmed her lips.

I ran my fingers behind her head, carefully searching for bruises. Then I checked her pupils. Normal, as far as I could tell.

“Who told you to do that?” I rasped, finally helping her sit up.

“I couldn't land on my butt. It was too bruised from my previous falls. Gotta spread the wealth.” She gazed past me at the trail. “Did I start an avalanche?”

“Sort of. It was only a size one. They call it a sluff. Enough snow to knock you off your feet, but not enough to bury you.”

“You’re such a ski nerd,” she grumbled, her eyes narrowing as she focused back on me. “Are you minimizing my avalanche? Because that's a slippery slope.”

I let out a rusty laugh and cupped the side of her face with my glove. “No. I support all avalanche sizes. I'm very pro-snow.”

She snorted. “Don't make me laugh. It hurts.”

My thumb brushed over her cheek. The ache in my throat was back, and I tried to clear it away. “I know, Bennett. I'm going to get you fixed up.”

I pulled out my radio and requested ski patrol. Then gave out our location.

Her nose wrinkled. “You're going to make me go down the hill in one of those sleds, aren't you? That's so embarrassing. Do I have to?”

“You have a possible head injury. You get the sled. Don't fight me on this. I own the place.”

She nodded with a slight pout, then visibly swallowed. “Thanks for coming, Grayson.”

“Anytime, Bennett.” The words came out softer than I’d intended, laced with a feeling I was struggling to keep buried.

I shifted positions, allowing her to lie back down, her head resting in my lap as we waited for the ski patrol.

The snow had eased, falling gently in huge flakes in an almost dreamlike quality. A quiet hush fell over the trail as the wind stilled, and it seemed the worst of the storm had passed. But as Sage snuggled deeper in my lap, a different storm battered relentlessly inside my chest, and it was only getting started.