Page 92 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
“I know,” I mutter. “But we don’t have a choice. Whit and Sam are out there somewhere, and we’re the only ones who can get them.”
Tanner shifts his backpack, checking his gear one last time. “At least the storm let up a little. We might get lucky.”
I let out a breath, watching it fog in the air before disappearing into the night. “Let’s hope so.”
Ben adjusts his jacket, looking back at the lodge one last time, his gaze lingering on the door. I know he’s thinking about Emily, just like I am. We all are.
“Let’s move,” I say, my voice firm. “We need to cover as much ground as possible before the storm picks up again.”
As we step outside, the wind immediately hits us, harsh and biting. The snow crunches under our boots, and the cold sinks into my bones. I pull my scarf up higher, tightening my jacket as I lead the way into the night. It’s dark—darker than I expected.
“Should we talk about what happened?” Tanner says, the first one to break the silence.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Come on, man,” Ben says. “We need to talk about it. It still feels like a fever dream to me. I mean, we did kiss the same woman at the same time.”
He’s right. It was perfect, no trace of awkwardness as if it was meant to be. But that can’t be right. How can she be with all of us? It’s preposterous. And the worst part is, I don’t know how far it would have gone if we didn’t have to leave so soon.
“I want to concentrate on not dying, please?” I say.
Tanner remains unfazed. “You know, we could just leave Whit to his fate. That guy’s a piece of work,” he says.
I glance over at him, catching the faint smirk on his face despite the seriousness of the situation. “Trust me, it’s tempting,” I reply, my voice rough. “But we don’t leave people behind. Even assholes like him.”
The others chuckle softly, but the humor dies quickly as we fall back into silence.
As we head up the ski trail, I begin to run out of breath. It’s definitely going to be one of our most challenging rescues; we’re usually more well-equipped when dealing with a situation like this. We thought the storm had passed, but we were wrong. It’s getting stronger the higher up we climb.
The trail is barely visible in the darkness, and the snow is relentless, piling up and making every step heavier than the last. The cold bites into my skin, even through the layers of gear, and I know the others are feeling it too. But we keep moving. We have to.
“Visibility’s shit,” Ben mutters from behind me, his voice muffled by the wind.
“No kidding,” Jace replies, his tone serious. “We’ll be lucky if we find them before morning.”
I nod, my eyes scanning the darkness ahead. “We’ll find them. Just stay close, stay sharp. This isn’t a game.”
The others fall in line behind me, their trust in me unspoken but felt. Minutes pass, but it feels like hours.
“Stick close,” I say over my shoulder, my voice barely audible over the wind. But I know I have to say something; the silence is scary, and none of them—not even Tanner has said anything. I get it; they’re trying to conserve energy, but I need to make sure we don’t get separated. “We move fast, but we don’t split up. If we lose sight of each other, we’re done.”
Jace nods, falling in step behind me, his eyes scanning the dark slopes ahead.
As we make our way up the mountain, the wind slams into us, a constant howl that drowns out everything but the crunch of snow beneath our boots.
The trail gets steeper, and I dig my boots into the snow, pushing forward through the resistance. My breath comes inclouds of steam, visible for a second before disappearing into the night.
“You see anything yet?” Ben calls out.
“Not a damn thing,” I mutter, squinting into the whiteout. “But we’re going to keep moving.”
“They couldn’t have gone much farther in this,” Tanner says.
“They wouldn’t have made it far,” I agree, scanning the area around us. “Keep your eyes sharp. Look for tracks or any sign of boot or ski tracks.”
“The storm would have wiped out most of it,” Ben says.
“Still keep looking,” I say. The wind picks up again, howling through the trees as we ascend further. My hands are stiff, almost numb from the cold, and I flex my fingers inside my gloves, trying to keep the blood flowing. The snow is deeper now, coming up to our knees, and every step feels like it’s draining what little energy we have left.
