Page 5 of Sustain

Preparing for it, I bend my knees further, anticipating the lift. But this time, it’s not just a jump. I’m literally flying in the air.

That wasn’t a hill. That was a fucking cliff.

I barely have time to register that the ground is coming up to meet me. For a split second, I think I’m going to be able to save it, but I don’t land straight and start sliding sideways at speed. Before I can even think about adjusting my stance, my left ski catches on something, and I’m flying again.

I catch a flash of red coming at me fast through the blur of white. One of the lift poles. I try to twist away, but my skis catch again, and suddenly, it’s on me.

My leg collides with unforgiving metal, and I swear I hear a sickening crack before I even feel it. Blinding pain shoots through my lower leg as it gives way.

I scream then, the sound going nowhere on the vacant slope. My cries mingle with the whipping wind as I crumble awkwardly into the snow.

The blizzard rages on, enveloping me in a haze of white. Through the cold powder swirling around me, I can see the lift pole, a red beacon now guiding me down into darkness.

four

. . .

Emergency

Ian

I’m not an expert skier by any means, but when I see the woman who just passed me at an incredible rate of speed wipe out and slam right into the lift pole, I know they’re most likely hurt, and I have to help. Maneuvering towards them, I eject out of my skis, stick them in an “X” shape in the snow so everyone else can steer clear, and rush over.

She’s not moving.

Shit.

As I reach inside my ski vest for my phone, I kneel next to her and take off my gloves, feeling around her neck for a pulse. Thank god, there is one. Gently, I lift her goggles to see if she’s conscious.

Holy hell. It’s Mackenzie Roberts. The manager of Murderous Crows. Of course, she’s in town for the music festival like I am.

“Mackenzie, can you hear me?” I tap her cheeks. “Mackenzie, wake up.”

Nothing.

I dial the number for ski patrol rescue here at the resort listed on a sign attached to the pole, give them our location, and tell them a bit about what happened.

“Ian? Ian Summer?” Her voice is soft but cuts through my rising anxiety.

“I’m here,” I say, turning my full attention to her. “Rescue is on the way. What hurts?”

“Everything,” she groans, still not moving. That worries the shit out of me.

“Can you move at all?” I ask, and as her brow furrows at that, I say, “Only if you can. If it hurts, don’t move.”

“My leg,” her brow creases more. “I think it’s broken.”

“Okay, then don’t move. They’ll be here soon.” I notice her start to shiver and realize she’s basically lying in the snow. Even the best ski gear isn’t made for long direct contact with the cold. Taking off my coat, I place it over her and tuck it around her carefully. “Anything else hurt? Or just the leg?”

Her face scrunches up in pain, and her breathing turns into sharp little breaths. She lifts an arm to cover her eyes, hiding her emotion from me.

“Fuck,” she snarls through gritted teeth.

I pull her arm away from her face, revealing her stunning violet eyes that are only a few shades lighter than the wisps of purple hair peaking out from her wool cap. “Hey, if ever there was a time to cry, this would be it. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Your badass rep is safe with me.”

She lets out a primal scream from somewhere deep in her gut that tries to echo across the mountain but is dampened by the heavy surrounding snowfall.

“Or, you know. You could scream, too.”

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