I sink to my knees beside his immobile body. He’s lying on his side, facing the opposite way. I can’t see his face, can’t see if he’s breathing, can’t—
I tear the gloves from my trembling hands, my pounding heart ready to lodge inside my throat. “Diego?”
As I hover over him, I scan his body for injuries, and, thankfully, there’s none – at least none I can see. My fingers reach for the side of his neck, in search of a pulse. When I find it, I exhale in relief.
“Diego, baby, what happened?” I blink back my tears, gently rolling him on his back.
I cup his face, a brief rush of peace washing over me when I notice his body is still warm. He must have gotten here shortly after texting me. I didn’t think he would be here, didn’t think he’d take the risk, didn’t—
Why can’t I breathe?
He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay.
No, he’s not even remotely close to being okay. He’s probably hurt himself and I don’t know what to do.
I pull his goggles up and rest them atop his helmet, gulping at the sight of his closed eyes.
“Diego.” My thumb caresses his cheekbone just as his eyelids start fluttering. “Can you hear me? Can you look at me?”
He stirs, a groan rising in his throat. His face contorts in an expression that signals he’s in pain, and that doesn’t soothe my spiking nerves a bit.
“That’s it,” I whisper through the emotion. “Give me your eyes.”
Slowly, so slowly, he starts to blink. It takes a moment for his vision to adjust, with my trembling hands cupping his face, and when a smug smile spreads across his lips, I know that he’s alright.
“Are you an angel? Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaks out.
He’s stupid. And he’s going to make me cry. My shoulders slump with the long exhale I finally release, my head shaking in slight disbelief. “Is that your pickup line?”
He grins lazily. “Is it working?”
“Not at all.”
“Liar. I know that you like it when I flirt with you.”
“Whatever makes you happy, superstar.” I gently graze my knuckles over his stubble and sigh. He’s lying in the freaking snow, most definitely hurting somewhere, and he’s attempting to make me smile. “Can you move?”
His brows tug together in confusion, then he props himself on his elbows, his gaze falling to his strapped feet and the snowboard. I lay a gentle hand between his shoulder blades and help him into a seated position. He tries to suppress his grunt, but his face twists with obvious discomfort.
“Are you hurt?”
His throat works up and down, his silence lengthy enough to answer my question. He looks around, completely distraught. My heart breaks at the sight as his chest starts heaving. He frowns, reaching for my hand. “Why do you look so scared?”
Because I thought I’d lost you for a second. And I haven’t even had you yet.
I swallow the heavy lump in my throat. “Seeing you lying lifeless wasn’t the most comforting sight.”
“Lifeless,” he echoes. “I was just unconscious for a few minutes.”
I don’t ask questions. Not now. I need to get him inside first. Moving to take my phone out of my breast pocket, I use my free hand to unstrap his bindings.
“Wait,” he says. Panic and worry paint his handsome face. “No medics. Please.”
I shake my head. “I’m just calling the lodge to see if they can find someone to replace me. I have a lesson in twenty minutes, and then we have a class later, but there’s no way I’m showing up today.”
Diego nods, relieved. I suppose he doesn’t want me to call for help because he doesn’t want anyone to know about this. And I get it – he broke a rule after all. “I’m sorry, Alara.”
After unstrapping his board, I cup his face again. He leans into my touch, that deep line between his brows a reflection of the pain he carries so secretively. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Did you bring a bag with you?” He nods, and I scan the area until I spot a blur of dark all the way up on the pitch. “I’m going to go and fetch it, and make the call, okay? Don’t move. We’ll go inside when I’m back.”
