Lie, Lie Again(84)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Riki turned hard and forced her bottom ski to push against the snow, frantic to prevent herself from picking up speed on this hellish run. It was Chris’s fault she was here alone. He’d gotten all bent when Evelyn mentioned Brandon again while they’d been on the chairlift, which now felt like hours ago. The silence that followed had made Riki sweat despite the freezing cold.
And even though he’d promised to help her off the lift at the right time, Chris had pushed ahead of her. She’d tripped—her timing not quite right for a clean dismount—and the chair operator had had to stop the whole show. Chris and everyone else had gone ahead. They were specks on the mountain, and despite trying to catch up, she couldn’t. When she’d reached a spot where the run broke off into two, she’d followed what looked like the easier of the trails, but the group was long gone.
For all she knew, Chris was already back on the chairlift, buzzing with the anticipation of a second adrenaline rush. And Riki was clinging to her poles as if they were her only grasp on safety as she inched across the mountain, her heart racing every time she had to make a turn. The fear of losing control as she pointed her skis down for a brief second was relentless. Even though the crisp air bit at her exposed nose and cheeks, the rest of her body felt like she was wrapped in a muggy wet blanket.
She eased to the side of the run near a barrier of trees and paused to catch her breath again. With a shaking hand, she pushed her goggles to her forehead—a simple move made awkward by her puffy gloves. The lenses were fogged, making it so she could hardly see. She tugged at the collar of her jacket and gulped for fresh air. It burned her lungs, and the biting wind made her face feel like it might crack from the cold. Moisture dripped from her nose. She dabbed at it with the sleeve of her jacket, which only made things worse.
The beauty of her surroundings was at odds with how she felt. The trees stood like royalty, their sharp pine needles made soft by the blanket of snow—princes in fine coats. It’d be a nice spot for a quaint hut. Something private and cozy, where she and Brandon could lay a thick blanket and snuggle, mugs of cocoa and cookies in their hands. Oh, jeez! Did she really just think that? She sniffed. It was too easy to imagine him. He would be furious if someone left his wife up on a mountain, alone and cold. He’d even be pissed that Chris had left Riki. She imagined the conversation they’d have. His blue eyes would go wide, and then he’d shake his head and say, Sweetie, I think you need to dump his sorry ass and find yourself a nice guy.
She shivered. Brandon wasn’t here, and the truth was, she probably wouldn’t ever tell him about this. But she would certainly tell Embry. What a stupid move it had been to text Brandon last night. What had she been thinking? Well, she hadn’t been. She’d been buzzing off too much wine. And now she would have to wait to tell Brandon the real reason she’d texted. It felt wrong lying to Embry, but she’d promised not to say a word about the pilot.
Turning her glassy eyes to the run ahead, she wondered how she was going to make it all the way to the bottom of the mountain. Chris shouldn’t have gotten pissed and gone ahead. Instead, he should’ve made big S turns across the mountain as she followed his trail, shouting words of encouragement that would’ve made her feel all warm inside.
But in reality, was there anything he could say to make her feel that way? She shivered against the cold. As much as she was trying to conjure all the right feelings for Chris, they kept slipping from her grasp. He wasn’t stupid. And she wasn’t good at masking her emotions. Maybe he’d done the only thing he could in that moment. Hearing about Brandon again, no matter who brought his name up, might’ve been more than he could take. Jealousy had a way of clawing reason to shreds when it was invited in.
She thought for a moment about curling up in the snow and waiting for ski patrol. But I’d probably die of frostbite, she thought. My feet will turn blue, and they’ll have to amputate them. It’ll be my punishment for crushing on my friend’s husband.
She shook her head. Nothing would have to be amputated. She pulled her goggles into place and gripped her poles, turning downhill in a large arc. If she started to make shorter turns, she’d be able to reach the bottom sooner.
Crisp flakes of snow pelted her as she traversed the run. Heaving a breath, she turned again, picking up speed. She automatically went into a snowplow position as fear that she would fall took over. It brought her to a stop, but she was facing straight down. She would have to pick up her left leg and move it perpendicular to the mountain. Planting her pole, she swung her leg and toppled over, but it wasn’t a big fall—more like she’d just decided to sit down for a moment. She pushed up and inched forward until her right leg was perpendicular to the mountain too. The powdery snow took up residence in the tops of her boots, chilling her legs through the thick wool socks.
Clenching her poles, she forced herself to remain calm as she started down again. She could barely see the sign for the next run ahead, but it was there, and that meant she was one step closer to ending this torture.
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, she repeated to herself. Turn after turn, she crept down the mountain, each second she remained upright a breathtaking victory. She executed one more turn and heaved out a sigh. This was exhausting. Maybe she could just rocket down and hope for the best. It was snow, after all. What was the worst thing that could happen? She’d land face-first in the powder? It would certainly be faster, like ripping off a bandage.