Griffin Douglas leaned back against the side of the hot tub, every muscle in his body aching. Too many hours on the mountain in the cold. Sure, he’d done this his whole life, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be.
Even his toenails hurt.
This year was his last shot, though. He had one more chance at winning the World Cup in alpine skiing, then hopefully a medal in the Winter Games, before he got too old. 
So he was going to have to live with the pain, and learn how to treat it.
Thus, the hot tub.
He leaned his head back and looked up at the stars overhead. Steam rose from the bubbling water, obscuring his vision a bit, making the stars waver and blur. He was glad to have access to the hot tub, on the deck of the Running Deer Ski Lodge. He was even more glad that no one else had braved the frigid temperatures to take advantage of it, because he had the deck to himself. He could let his mind wander back over the day’s skiing. What he’d done wrong, what he’d done right.
One of the things he’d done wrong was going up that one last time. He’d thought he was in good shape after skiing all summer in South America, but man. The courses there hadn’t been outlined the way this one was, and some of those turns had hurt.
He hoped the decision didn’t cost him this weekend in the downhill race. He needed to come in the top five to bring up his ranking to increase his chance of being chosen for the U. S. team. So he replayed the course in his head, the twists, the dips, and worked out how he could improve his time, each step of the way.
The door to the lodge opened—he heard the noise from inside grow louder and then become muffled again—and he lifted his head to see who had joined him. 
The woman who walked toward him was long and slim, even wrapped in the thick robe from the resort. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, revealing delicate features and big eyes. She crossed straight to the hot tub and stood over him, smiling down.
“Hey, mind if I join you?”
Man, he did not have time for a flirtation, for a woman seeking him out. Okay, sure, that sounded conceited, but ever since his first appearance in the Games when he was twenty, well, women had been interested. And he just didn’t have time to deal with the distraction right now. He’d rented a cabin on the property instead of staying in the lodge to be away from people.
But he couldn’t exactly deny her access to the hot tub. 
So he drew his legs in and sat up straighter, lifting his hand out of the water to motion that she was welcome to join him. 
She loosened her robe and draped it over a nearby chair, and he had to concentrate to keep his expression neutral.
Long and slim, yes, but with curves in all the right places in the sporty two-piece bathing suit she wore. Her legs and arms as she stretched to drape the robe were toned, her stomach cut. When she turned back to him, lifting her arms over her head to readjust her ponytail, she smiled.
“Long day on the mountain,” she said, and stepped into the water.
Her big long-lidded eyes closed for a moment in pleasure as the heat seeped into her, then she opened them again and sat across from him, ducking so even her shoulders were immersed. She closed her eyes again, and he knew he should avert his gaze, but he just couldn’t.
No time for this, Griff.
He told himself not to ask questions, not to engage, but his curiosity overwhelmed him. “You’re a skier?” Most people at the resort were. Duh, Griff.
“Yup. Today wasn’t fun, though. Ski patrol put a call out for help finding a missing little boy. It all ended well, though.”
He must have been on the mountain at the time, because he hadn’t heard that call. “That was good of you to go look.”
She lifted a hand. “I do search and rescue part time. The team leader today knows me, knows I was here. I couldn’t say no.”
He leaned forward, his curiosity betraying him. “For real? How did you get into that?”
She fidgeted with her ponytail. “Oh, well, you know, I love being on the mountain, and there’s not really a lot of ways to get paid to do that.”
“So you’re ski patrol?”
Something shifted in her gaze. “No, I used to be, but that’s pretty time-intensive. I’m part time, usually on cases where they need more people, where they need someone who’s a trained paramedic.”
“And you are? A paramedic?” Why was he questioning her? He didn’t care, except yes, he did. 
A slight smile curved her full lips. “I am.”
“So what—if you don’t mind my asking—was the case today?”
“Little kid, separated from his parents, found himself really lost. Took four hours to find him. This time, they just needed bodies up on the mountain searching, no paramedic, thank God. I think the parents are either going to put a leash on him, or tie a bell around his neck or something. They were pretty frantic. And they’re from Texas, so not a lot of experience with snow.”
“Glad it ended well.” He wanted to ask more questions, but the side of him that would remain aloof told him to shut up. She wanted to relax, and he needed to. 
“Yeah, more often than not it does.” She trailed a hand through the bubbling water. “Otherwise I don’t know if I could keep doing it.” 
“That makes sense. So I guess in the summer you’re a paramedic?”
Her face scrunched into a sort of grimace. “Yes, that’s actually harder because it’s a lot more iffy on outcomes. So many car accidents. And, well, it’s not on the mountain.”
The questions just kept piling up in his head, like what made her want to be a paramedic in the first place. But he didn’t ask, instead shifted and eased his head back, closing his eyes and trying to close her out of his thoughts.
“So long day on the mountain for you, too?” she asked. 
“Yup. Too many runs.” But his conversation with her was making him forget the pains, was letting his muscles loosen. He knew his own tension at being able, or not, to qualify for the team was part of the reason he was in so much pain. If he could relax on the mountain, enjoy the skiing like he used to, he could probably do better. But he wasn’t in that mindset yet. 
He didn’t know how to get back there.
“Been there,” she said in commiseration, and leaned her own head back against the edge of the tub.
Because his mind had wandered, a second passed before he understood what she meant.
“I imagine you’ve seen some hairy accidents on the mountain, as well.”
“Oh, sure, but cars do a worse number on the human body than gravity does. I’ve seen plenty of bad accidents, more than my share of compound fractures.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ve had one of those.” He stretched his arm out in front of him and pointed to the scar on his right deltoid. He’d been lucky as hell he had broken his arm and not his leg, or that could have ended his career.
Her turn to draw in a breath. “Skiing?”
“Yup.”
She held up her arm, wrist out. “Skateboarding. I was trying to master dropping in on a ramp. Not a compound fracture but I had to have surgery and they put some screws in there. Needless to say, I did not get back on the ramp.”
Skateboarding? He was having trouble picturing her in a helmet and pads. “How old were you?”
“Oh, ten, eleven. My mom took me to the skatepark every week, until that happened. She tried to teach me to sew after that. I was not good at sitting still.”
He chuckled at that. “I have screws in this ankle.” He lifted his leg out of the water and pointed his toes the best he could, because face it, feet were ugly. “Also skiing.”
“And yet you get back on the mountain.”
He shrugged. “I was twelve at the time.”
She lifted her opposite leg and held her toes straight, as he’d done, and what had he been saying about feet being ugly? He had the weirdest urge to stroke his hand down the top of her foot. 
“No screws, but I did have to have surgery when I broke this one. Skydiving.”
That surprised him enough to look away from her shapely leg. “Skydiving?”
She lowered her leg back into the water. “I was convinced I wanted to be a smokejumper. The skydiving part was fun, but one summer on the mountain convinced me I’m a winter girl.”
“You were a smokejumper?” He was incredulous. He’d met some of those guys, and they took some big risks.
She shook her head. “No, a hot shot. I’m glad I didn’t do all that training. I might not have quit and would have just been miserable. But before I joined the crew, I went skydiving just to see if I’d like it.”
“Did you?”
“The first few times. The last time was when I broke my ankle. Have you ever gone?”
He shook his head. “I never have.”
“I have a friend who’s a pilot, if you ever decide to try it.”
Just what he needed, to kill his damn self jumping out of a plane. He’d never make the team if he was broken in a million pieces. But he didn’t want to say that to her. “Maybe.” He leaned forward, the ache in his body a whole different thing now. “What else did you want to be?”
She grinned. “Well, I went from hot shot to park ranger to ski patrol to paramedic to part-time search and rescue.”
He was absolutely riveted. “So you weren’t a paramedic when you were ski patrol?”
Her eyes sparkled in the light from the hot tub. “Not when I was full time, but I saw the benefit of becoming one. I hope to go back to using it full time soon. ”
He wondered what caused that comment. He didn’t recall being so curious about a woman before, but he supposed he’d never met a woman like her before either.
She angled her head at him. “I’ve been doing all the talking.”
“You have a lot more to say,” he countered, and she laughed, her head tilted back, that long sexy neck so inviting. He could almost feel it beneath his lips.
Wasn’t he just telling himself that he needed to stay focused? Like, just now telling himself that? And now he was focused on just one thing.
The wrong thing.
“You want to go get some dinner?”
“Um.” She looked at him, looked up at the stars. “Um. Sure. I guess. Okay. But only since I’ve been doing all of the talking and you’ve done none.” She reached her hand across the hot tub. “I’m Mackenzie. Since we haven’t really introduced ourselves.”
“Griff.”
“Okay, then. Meet in half an hour in the lobby?”
When he nodded, she braced her hands on the side of the tub and launched herself up and out. She did a full-body shake, then reached for her robe. Once she had it wrapped around herself, she looked over her shoulder at him still in the tub.
“See you in half an hour.”
As he watched her walk away without making a move to get out, he wondered what the hell he was thinking.


Mackenzie Burton shivered as she hurried through the warm lobby and up to her suite. Even though she and her nephew Paul lived only forty-five minutes away, his coach had wanted him staying in the resort before the race on Saturday. Right now she was both glad and anxious about that choice.
What was she doing agreeing to go to dinner with a strange man?
Okay, well, he wasn’t strange. He was Griff Davis, four-time member of the U. S. Team representing men in alpine skating, three-time medal winner in the Winter Games, if she recalled correctly. So she knew who he was. She just didn’t know the man.
She did find it interesting that he hadn’t said anything about being a professional skier, just acted like he was a regular guy with a tough day on the mountain. She wondered why. But she didn’t mind. Better than him being all, “Don’t you know who I am?” to get his way.
She probably should have skipped the hot tub. Searching for a little kid had taken a lot out of her, and the cold had seeped into her bones. But when James had called her, knowing she was in the area, needing her experience, she hadn’t been able to say no. After the stress of the day, even though it ended in the best way, she’d wanted some alone time.
When she’d seen someone was already in the hot tub, she should have just turned around and come back up to her room, settled for a hot shower.
But when she’d recognized Griff, well, she hadn’t been able to help herself.
She’d always thought he was cute when he was younger, dark-haired with those blue, blue eyes. Age had only improved him, carved his features even finer, and that scruff on his jaw was sexy as hell.
Her heart was jittery as she opened the door to her suite, called out, “Paul?”
Her nephew didn’t answer. He was eighteen now and they’d agreed she wouldn’t keep such close tabs on him. That allowed them each a bit of freedom. Right now she was relieved that he wasn’t here so she didn’t have to explain where she was going. But tomorrow she was going to remind him that she at least deserved the courtesy of knowing where he was as long as they lived together.
Now, however, she was grateful for privacy as she shrugged off her robe, peeled off her wet bathing suit and pawed through her suitcase, trying to decide what to wear. She didn’t want to take too long, didn’t want to make Griff wait, possibly change his mind, so she grabbed a sweater and tugged on her favorite leggings, checking the mirror to make sure they were as flattering as she remembered.
She needed to do something with her hair, which was currently scraped back in a ponytail, and she should at least put some eyeliner on. Maybe some eyeshadow. And mascara. And lip stain. She didn’t know why she’d packed all those things—she rarely used them.
What had she gotten herself into? She hadn’t wanted to impress a man in, well, she couldn’t remember how long. Taking in Paul six years ago had put a crimp in her love life. She’d managed to hook up every once in a while, but she hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t freaked out that she was a package deal with a teenager.
She was overthinking things. She had been fine out in the hot tub, when they had just been flirting. What did she really think was going to happen? He was a celebrity. She was a nobody. 
But who knew? 
The look on his face when she found him in the lobby by the fireplace made the additional effort she’d put into her appearance completely worth the fact that she may have taken over half an hour to get ready.
He motioned to a table on the other side of the double-sided fireplace, set for two, complete with wineglasses. “Since it’s so late, I was able to get us a good table. Okay with you?”
“Perfect,” she said, and let him hold her chair for her, and who did that anymore? “I’m not drinking right now, if it’s all the same.”
“No, neither am I.” He motioned for the waitress to remove the wine glasses and sat back in his chair. “The truffle ravioli is really good here.”
She knew what was good here, since Paul skied near the resort often, but she merely nodded. “Sounds rich.” 
“It is, but tasty.”
“What are you going to get?”
They both decided on a chicken dish with lemon dill sauce, which still sounded rich but less so than some of the other options.
She thought they’d have trouble picking up their conversation from the hot tub, but no, it flowed pretty easily. He wasn’t seeing anyone, had married once when he was younger, but it hadn’t worked out. No kids, a sister who was married to a retired Air Force colonel who lived in Texas now.
“She hated leaving Hawaii, though,” he said. “She had to give up surfing, but he wanted to be closer to his family.”
“Oh, surfing! That’s one thing the beach has over the mountains,” Mackenzie said with a sigh, almost able to smell the ocean.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve surfed?”
She’d actually loved it, and if she didn’t love the mountains so much, she would totally move to the beach. “Oh, yes. I went to California one summer when I was on break from school and learned, and man, is it a rush. Have you gone?”
“I’ve been, but I think my paranoia about sharks probably kept me from enjoying it.”
She leaned forward. “You’re afraid of sharks?”
He turned his attention to the round loaf of bread the waitress brought to the table. “I wouldn’t say afraid so much as aware of the damage they can do.”
She laughed. “I saw a couple, when I was surfing, but they left me alone, thankfully.” She remembered that rush, the danger just a little more adrenaline-pumping than the actual sport.
He folded his arms on the table. “What other adventurous things have you done?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know that I’d call learning to surf adventurous.” 
“I mean, yeah, it is. So is skiing, I guess, and jumping out of planes.”
“You make me sound like an adrenaline junkie.”
“I mean, if the shoe fits.” He lifted his hand to indicate, well, her.
“I just like trying new things. I try to do one new thing a year.”
He narrowed his eyes. “If you’ve only done one new thing a year, based on what you’ve told me in the short time I’ve known you, you’d have to be fifty years old already.”
She grinned. “Well, maybe some years have had more adventure than others.”
“Okay, what have you done new this year?”
“Well. Hm.” She tapped her chin with her finger, enjoying the way he was studying her as she tried to remember. “I’ve done zip lining, and white-water rafting. I’m trying to remember what it was this year. I think it was rock climbing.”
His eyes widened in appreciation, and a warmth flowed through her. She hadn’t set out to impress him, she just liked to try new things. Take a few risks.
Ahem. Like now.

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Declan O’Hare slapped off the alarm and grunted. Why did he pick a career that woke him up so early in the morning? He should be used to it, since he had been waking at this hour since he was eight years old. Back then, he’d had no choice. Now he made the choice.
He rolled out of his empty bed—because what woman wanted to be awakened at four thirty in the morning?—dragged a hand over his hair in need of a cut, and pushed to his feet. 
After Lexi and Josh graduated high school, or moved on to a more advanced coach, he wasn’t going to take on any more students for a while. Maybe sleep until seven. Stay up to watch the late news. Or even a movie.
But now that school had started again, Lexi and Josh wanted to get in their lessons before their classes, so he met them at the rink at five and they practiced until around seven. They’d be back after school, too, so he’d be at the rink until seven or eight tonight, come home, shower and crash, then do it all again tomorrow morning. His only breaks were on Monday and Tuesday afternoons, when they had dance and gymnastics classes instead.
He shouldn’t complain, he knew, as he tugged on his sweats and padded into the kitchen for a to-go tumbler of coffee. These two ice dancers were insanely talented. They had what it took to go all the way. He’d been coaching them since they were about twelve, but he couldn’t take credit for the natural skill and grace the two of them had, or the work ethic. 
Because he owned the rink, he was paid for both their ice time and for coaching.
He was out of bed and out the door in fifteen minutes, even if he wasn’t fully awake.
He had a staff at the rink, of course, but since he had to be here this early anyway, he was the one to open up, get the lights on.
Yeah, he’d been fortunate to be able to buy this place with the winnings from the endorsement deals he’d gotten after winning gold in Sion. Probably, though, he shouldn’t have banked so much on the notoriety from those days, papering the lobby with his picture, including a big one of him on the podium holding his medal.
At least he’d had the sense—or the pettiness—to block Colby out of that picture.
But he couldn’t block out what had happened next. He had turned to Colby, his partner, on the podium, and went down on one knee. He hadn’t had a ring, but he’d been so overwhelmed with emotion, and they had been America’s Sweethearts at that time, anyway. The crowd had gone crazy. He remembered the confusion on her face, but she’d said yes, and he’d leapt up to fold her into a passionate kiss, and….
Yeah, he wished he hadn’t tied those two events together in his mind. Because everything, everything had gone downhill from there. A lifelong dream, and the beginning of a nightmare. 
He got all the lights turned on in the place—the lobby, where the parents waited, the snack bar, the gym, the rink, the office last. Then he sat behind his desk and reached for his skates. Since he had gotten out the door so quickly, he had time to get some skating in. 
Some days he was able to fit some in later in the day, after the morning rush, when most of the kids who came for lessons went to school, before he went into his office and attended to business, but this morning he needed to be on the ice first thing to kind of center him. He wasn’t sure why.
At the last minute before he stepped onto the ice, he decided to turn on the PA system, plugged his phone in and blasted a classic rock song through the speakers. Then he tossed his guards and skated onto the ice.
Usually he liked the peaceful sound of blades cutting through the ice. But today he wanted the pounding bass, the ringing guitar. He let the music pound through him as he skated the perimeter, gathering speed, before leaping into the air for a quick axel, landing on one blade, the momentum carrying him forward, nothing driving him but the pulse of the music and his love of skating.
Declan had skated with a partner for over twenty years, from the time he was eleven, and he’d liked it, but skating alone was freedom and joy.
The cold air of the rink stung his face, the scent of it more familiar to him than the scent of his own home, the shape of it familiar enough that he could close his eyes as he powered around. He indulged in his favorite jump, the toe pick, because it propelled him forward, and he used that momentum to do a split jump, landed, and skated half the perimeter before lowering his torso and raising his leg to go into a camel spin, his left leg straight behind him as he whipped his body around. Testing his strength, he lifted his left leg in front of him and lowered his body over the spinning skate, his knee giving some protest at the move, but he pressed on. The end of his left skate sent bits of ice flying as he spun before using the last of his strength to stand again.
He was breathing heavily as  he skated to a stop, hands on his hips, his knee throbbing a little. He kept limber with yoga and Pilates, but apparently thirty-three-year-old knees didn’t care.
The applause caught him off-guard, and he looked up to see his students, Josh and Lexi, and their moms, Melina and Cynthia, clapping and cheering as he took a slight bow. 
He didn’t see the fifth person until he skated over, until his phone’s playlist advanced to the next song, even as his brain screeched to a halt.
Colby Martin stood with them, her hands tucked in her puffy silver jacket, not applauding, just staring at him. 
Colby Martin.
His ex-partner, his ex-best friend.
His ex-wife.


“Declan, we took your advice and hired a choreographer for the kids,” Melina said, stepping forward, holding one of her hands out.
Why, Declan didn’t know, and he skated back a bit out of her reach, wishing he’d never turned the stupid music on, because it was blasting and he couldn’t think, and he couldn’t get over to the system to turn it off without passing Colby, who was just…watching him. Not saying anything.
“There are other choreographers,” he said, sharper than he intended, skating down to the other entrance to the rink. His guards were on the floor near Josh and Lexi, but he didn’t care. He’d take his skates off. Anything to get the music off.
By the time he reached the other entrance, Josh was there, offering his skate guards, which Declan took gratefully. Not the kid’s fault his mother hired Declan’s worst nightmare.
“No one is taking new clients,” Cynthia said, following her daughter down to Declan.
“Josh, can you shut off the bloody music?” Declan asked through his teeth as he slapped the skate guards on the blades.
Josh seemed just as grateful to get away, nodding and running up the stairs to the PA controls.
And then the place was silent, just the two hopeful mothers, the young skaters who appeared uncomfortable, and Colby.
All the peace Declan had built was erased, and he stormed up the steps to the lobby.
No one else had arrived yet, thank God, but they’d be coming soon. His students had the ice to themselves right now, and he was wasting their time, but really, he was furious.
“Go warm up,” he said to Lexi, gruffer than he intended. Honestly, he wanted to go into his office and slam the door, but he had an obligation to these kids, and to their parents. “Excuse us,” he said to Colby, and ushered the mothers through the door into his office. He knew that didn’t afford them much privacy, since it was a hollow core door. But at least he wouldn’t have Colby looking at him while he confronted the women. 
He took a seat behind his desk in the small room, but the mothers did not sit in the chairs he gestured to.
“You have to know how difficult it would be to work with her,” he said, wishing he’d had more time to think out his response. “You no doubt know our history.”
“Yes, of course, but she said it would be okay with her. She would be fine working with you,” Cynthia said.
He looked at the woman he had known for years like he was looking at a stranger. “Why didn’t you ask me if I’d be fine working with her?”
“The two of you made such a good team! You won gold! I thought it was kismet when she was available,” Melina said.
“She’s available because she’s extremely difficult to work with.” She hadn’t always been, but the better they’d gotten, the more of a diva she’d become. “And who do you think would know that better than I do?”
“I’m sorry, Declan. We just assumed you’d be professional about this,” Melina said with a small, hurt sniff.
Oh, no, they were not going to put this on him. “You thought I’d be professional?” He’d raised his voice and hadn’t meant to. He glanced toward the door, certain Colby was on the other side of it, listening to everything. He decided he didn’t care. No one had hurt him like she did. No one.
“We want the best for our kids. We want them to have the same chances you did. That’s why we hired you, and that’s why we hired her.”
“Look, can she not just devise the routine, and you implement it?” Cynthia asked. “It’s not like you’d have to work with her for long. Or she can work with them, then you can? Take turns? We really did a lot of investigating into this. No one else was taking clients this year. Please, Declan.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He couldn’t believe he had to keep saying it. Figure skating was a small world, sure, and he hadn’t had to encounter her in the past eight years, mainly because she had gone to Los Angeles, hoping to make it big in acting. He hadn’t heard she’d come back to Aspen, hadn’t heard she’d come back to skating.
He wondered why.
“Could you talk to her?” Melina asked. “Just see if there’s something the two of you can work out?”
“You’re putting your kids in the middle of this,” he said, one last shot at appealing to them. He honestly wanted to tell them to find another coach, but he’d been working with these kids since they were twelve, and he genuinely liked them. He’d known time would come when he’d have to, if not give them up to more experienced coaches, at least give up some of the control he had, to share them with another coach. But he’d never expected to be forced to work with Colby.
“Please, just talk to her. She seemed to think there would be no problem, so maybe she has a solution you haven’t thought of.”
“I need to get to your kids’ lesson,” he said. “If Colby wants to stick around to talk to me when we’re done, that’s fine. I’ll talk to her then.”
Maybe by then he would have figured out what to say. Or she would give up and leave. 
Yeah. Sure. Unlikely.
As he expected, when he opened the door, she was standing just outside it, still silent, making him want to scream.
But he had to rein it in, get to Josh and Lexi so they could take advantage of their two hour block before they had to go to school. 
“Come back at nine,” he said brusquely, not exactly meeting her gaze, but not exactly avoiding it, either. 
She was still so beautiful, smooth skin, big blue eyes accented with perfect makeup, that shiny hair that was not quite brown, not quite red, piled in a messy bun on her head. Those full lips that brought back so many pleasant memories, and through which such nasty things had been said.
“I’m going to stay and watch,” she said. “I need to know what these kids can do before I design a program for them.”
He grunted, since he’d kind of expected she’d say something like that. He didn’t relish the idea of her watching him, judging him as he worked with the kids he’d coached for four years now. 
“You stay in here, not out there.”
“It’s not right, you know,” she said as he opened the door to the rink, standing in the blast of cold air. “You cropped me out of all these pictures.”
“Not all of them,” he said, and pointed to a picture where just the toe of her skate made it into the photo.
With that, he walked out.

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Abby O’Rourke kicked what was left of the passenger window out with her one foot that still wore a shoe. She didn’t know if the other shoe had come off in the crash. She didn’t see it in the cab of the truck, not on the floor among the broken glass, not on the seat. Maybe it had flown out the broken windshield, but she’d never be able to find it in the snow.
Well, she might be able to, but did she want to take the time to find it? 
She looked over her shoulder at Andrew, whose head lolled to the side, blood trickling down the side of his face, his hands limp at his sides. If she was a good person, she would reach over to feel if he was still alive, but she needed to get away. If he was dead, well, she was sorry for it, but he had brought this on himself. The things he’d said to her since he’d dragged her into this truck when she’d been trying to get into her car after leaving the gym would ring in her ears the rest of her life.
Hopefully the rest of her life would last a good long time, not the short amount of time he seemed to have planned.
He’d told her she wouldn’t belong to anyone else. He’d warned her. She would belong to him, or no one. He’d make sure of that.
She wasn’t sure what his intention was, exactly, but she’d known if he’d gotten her to his cabin on Round Lake, she wouldn’t have escaped.
She climbed out of the window, dropping ankle deep into the snow. She reached back into the cab. Her coat was gone—she must have dropped in the parking lot of the gym when Andrew surprised her. Her phone was gone. He’d tossed it out of the truck miles back, probably thinking someone would be able to track her location. She found a light knit jacket behind the seat of the truck. That wouldn’t do much against the cold temperatures, much less the wind and snow. But she didn’t have a choice. 
One shoe, her gym clothes, a gross limp jacket. Andrew wore a jacket, but she wasn’t going to risk rousing him to take it, if he was still alive.
She had to go.
But where? She was in the middle of nowhere, in a snowstorm. 
She knew this road, since they’d driven it to Andrew’s cabin in the past. Cabins were tucked in the trees all around them, and farmhouses in the stretches of land between the lakes. She just had to find one where someone lived.
Staying on the road was risky, if Andrew roused and followed her. She headed off the road toward the tree line. She’d walk along there until she saw another option.
She didn’t know how long she’d been traveling when she skidded to a stop at the edge of the lake, her one shoe drenched and filling with snow. She glanced back and looked at the path she’d left. She’d hoped the falling snow would have covered her footsteps, but because of the trees, the snow wasn’t reaching the ground on her path. It certainly was reaching her, though, soaking through her thin jacket.
In her moment of hesitation, she listened to the…well, the nothing. The falling snow muffled whatever sound might be around, but what she noticed most of all was the darkness. Darkness all around, except for one pale light on the other side of the lake. 
Someone’s cabin. This was a lake, so other cabins were likely situated between her and it, but probably empty. She could hide in one, break in. She would hate doing that but she was desperate. But what if the people had turned off power, water, their phone?  Would she be that much better off? Her best chance was that light, and she hoped it wasn’t just a porch light or something. 
She looked across the lake, considering taking that route. The surface should be frozen enough to walk upon, but she would be in the open and Andrew would see her. 
The path she’d left made her vulnerable enough, but she dared not retreat to erase it. She didn’t know how long Andrew would remain unconscious. She couldn’t risk coming out in the open. She was going to stick to the edge of the lake, in the shadows of the trees. 
She had never been so cold, and putting one foot in front of the other in her wet sock and slightly less wet gym shoe was hard and painful in the drifts. She was soaked practically to her knees, but she had no other choice. He would kill her if she went back. She was sure of it. She would rather die out here.
The sound of the wolf howling pierced through the sound of her own labored breathing. She stopped short, trying to figure out where the noise had come from. How far away was he? Was he alone, or did he have a pack? Were wolves like the velociraptors in that dinosaur movie, where one let his presence be known as the others moved in for the kill?
Freezing to death was one thing, but being hunted—that was something way different. Heart pounding as adrenaline surged, she moved a little farther out onto the lake, aware she risked being seen, but the snow was not as difficult to trudge through. She picked up a branch, because she knew she needed to hide her tracks, hide the direction she’d gone. She had chosen the lake because she thought Andrew would hunt for her down the road first. The road had more cover, but here at the lake she could see the other cabins. 
For all the good that did her.
She looked over her shoulder to see the branch was doing a piss-poor job of hiding her tracks, unlike what she’d seen in the movies, but if it disguised them just a bit, the snow could hide her path and buy her time.
The wolf howled again, and this time he seemed closer. But which direction? To her right? The direction she was heading? On the other side of the lake? She just couldn’t tell, and her terror would not allow her to stop to try to figure it out. 
Her next step was lower than expected, and she dropped like a rock. At first, she thought she’d broken through the ice, but no, she was just in a deeper drift, and now she was wet to the waist. 
God, she hoped that house was occupied and warm. It certainly didn’t seem to be getting any closer, though the howl of the wolf and the echoes of his companions certainly did. She had to get out of this weather. Her hands were growing numb, and her feet. But frostbite was way better than whatever Andrew had planned for her.
The cold wind cut through the thin jacket, felt like knives in her throat, in her nose. At least it wasn’t too cold to snow, though she had no idea what the temperature was, what the windchill was. She didn’t know how long she could be out here without dying, without losing her feet to frostbite. She just knew it couldn’t be too long.
As she approached the cabin she’d been focusing on, she noticed it was higher than the lake, on a ridge. God, was she going to have to climb a hill once she got across the lake? She looked behind her, and thankfully, she appeared to have come farther than the distance she had yet to travel, and while she could still see part of her path, the snow was obscuring it farther away.
What if…what if Andrew thought she had fallen through the ice? What if, once she reached the other side of the lake, she threw a rock or something to break through the ice, making it look like she’d fallen through? Would he stop looking for her?
If she even had the strength when she reached the other side. 
The presence of the wolves still worried her. She wouldn’t be able to hear their footsteps because of her own breathing and the rustle of the branch behind her.
The branch she could barely hold onto anymore. She’d dropped it twice, had to retrace her steps when she realized she no longer was carrying it.
Wasting precious steps, precious time, with no indication the effort was worth it. 
Her ears hurt. She wore nothing on her head, no protection, and ears could get frostbite too, right? She did not want to lose her ears. She loosened her hair from its braid to fall against her skin, hoping just the little extra protection would help.
That ridge, the closer she got, was looking higher and higher. She wasn’t going to have the strength. She was going to die here. She only hoped she froze to death before the wolves found her.
She stumbled and went down hard on her knees. The hand that wasn’t holding the branch. The impact knocked her breath from her, and the temptation to stay down, to give up, was nearly overwhelming. She’d never been so tired in her life.
Only her determination that goddamn Andrew was not going to kill her pushed her to her feet again. 
She was on the shore. She could feel it now, the unevenness of the ground beneath the snow. The cabin was above her, and, hallelujah, she found a staircase leading up the hill.
She pawed around in the snow until she found a boulder. She pried it free from the mud with fingers that were numb and aching. Lifting it was hard, too, because she felt like her arms were going to snap right off. But she lifted it over her head and heaved it with as much power as she could muster toward the lake, was disappointed when it didn’t crash through the ice, only made an indentation in the snow and bounced away a few feet. 
No way would Andrew think she’d fallen through the ice from that feeble attempt. But she didn’t want to dig around for another boulder. She needed to get to shelter.
She dropped the branch when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She had no way to hide her footsteps going up them, her grip on the wooden rails, so she wasn’t going to waste the energy trying. She needed all of her strength to put one foot in front of the other. She fell twice, once because she slipped on a frozen patch and once because she just couldn’t lift her leg high enough.  God she was so tired, and everything hurt.
And when she reached the top of the stairs, well, she was still going to have to maneuver a winding uphill path. She slid back more than once, and dropped to all fours to climb the last few feet to the yard.
She stood and looked up at the cabin. No wonder she could see it from across the lake. The place was pretty imposing, like the prow of a ship, the bottom covered with rocks, then a deck over her head, and above that the lovely lighted windows. 
She didn’t see a door, so rounded to the side of the house, and yes, there was a porch, with more steps. No cars in the driveway, but she saw a detached garage, so please, God, let the vehicles be inside.
She wasn’t thinking of the wolves anymore, or of Andrew, or even of the cold as she dragged herself up the stairs using the log rails.  
When she stood in front of the door, she imagined she could feel the warmth from within. She thought she heard a dog barking through the thick walls, but maybe that was the wolves. She was having trouble focusing. 
She suddenly found herself afraid of what was within. Someone who wasn’t expecting her, someone who lived out in the middle of nowhere, who might greet her with a gun.
But she couldn’t survive out here much longer. She didn’t have a choice. 
She raised her arm, wrapping her hand in the sleeve of the wet jacket, and banged on the door with her forearm. 
The door opened much faster than she expected, and a man filled the door frame.
Her gaze went to the chrome-plated handgun first, not pointed at her, but the tension in the tendons of his wrist let her know he was ready to use it. She stepped back, her hands up in front of her in surrender. Her foot slipped, and he lunged forward, catching her elbow, drawing her toward the door. She grabbed onto the front of his sweater and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Dark shaggy hair fell forward around his face, a beard shadowing a strong jaw. Her fingers flexed in reaction. He was big, and strong because he was still holding her up, off the ground, so she struggled to get her feet under herself so she had some power, at least. 
He guided her up and set her on her feet, but once she was standing, he looked around the exterior of the cabin. The gun, she saw then, was still in his hand.
“Are you alone? Why are you dressed like this?”
Now that she could feel the actual warmth from inside the cabin, she started shivering, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Still she managed to say, “I escaped.”
​

TWELVE YEARS LATER


Lacey Davila’s heart thundered in her chest as she sat before her computer monitor and opened Skype. The pregnancy test trembled in her hand as she logged in. Jesse would not be happy with the news. They hadn’t wanted to start a family yet, and she was taking birth control, but the last time he’d been on leave…
She had debated waiting to tell him, but she knew he’d get mad if she kept the news from him, too.
So she waited until he came on the screen, and forced a smile. She couldn't pretend to be too happy, or he’d think she’d planned this to trick him into marriage. But if she wasn't happy to see him, he would read something awful into that reaction as well.
Funny how he could frighten her with his moods from five thousand miles away.
“Hey, baby,” he said in a quiet voice, with a gentle smile. “Good to see you.”
Some of the muscles in her stomach loosened at that. He was in a good mood. For now.
She started the conversation focusing on him, what he’d been up to, because that’s what he liked. What did she have to share, living in a small town like Broken Wheel, Texas, anyway? He was the one living an adventure, deployed on the other side of the world.
Though to be honest, when he was talking about traveling to towns near the base in Germany, it didn't sound all that different than living in Broken Wheel. But she listened with an interested smile on her face until he turned the conversation to her.
“What’s new with you? You look terrible.”
Of course she looked terrible. She couldn't eat or sleep because of the morning sickness, which was really all-day sickness. “Well, I have some news.”
“Yeah? What? Something exciting happen in BFE? A new menu item at the diner or something?” He chuckled at his own cleverness. 
God. She was going to be tied to this man forever. What had she done? Why hadn’t she broken free when she had a chance, before she got pregnant? For a moment, she considered not telling him, keeping the news to herself. But she’d worked up the nerve, something that had taken her all day, and she was going to tell him. The consequences be damned. Her life was changing one way or another.
“I have some exciting news,” she modified. If she was excited, maybe he would be, too. She held up the pregnancy test, willing her hand not to shake, all the while watching for his reaction.
His expression froze, and for a moment she thought—hoped—it might be the computer. 
“You’re going to be a daddy,” she prompted.
“Whose is it?” he said through his teeth, and even thought she’d expected the accusation, the vehemence behind it gave her a jolt.
“Yours. Of course it’s yours.”
“Bull. We always use birth control. Why are you trying to pass someone else’s brat off as mine? You want my benefits or something?”
She would not see how his words hit her. She forced her chin up, and concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “I’m not. I’m on the pill. Or, I was until I took the test. But we always doubled up on protection, and before you left we…didn’t. So this baby must be meant to be.” She cursed the tears that filled her eyes  because he would read them as guilty.
It didn't matter. She already knew, before he started calling her names—names she’d heard before, and new ones, each one hitting her like a blow.
She didn't know why she sat and listened until her friend Poppy walked into the room, flipped him off on the screen, and ended the call.
“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Poppy demanded, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms over her chest. “God, how I wish you’d never met him. You deserve so much better than that, Lace. I wish you could see that.”
She could see it, and many times over the last few months, she’d wished she had the strength to leave him. But then she remembered how devastated her dad was when her mother left, and she just couldn't bring herself to do it, not when Jesse was overseas. 
And now it was too late. She was tied to him forever.
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