“I’m not—” he starts, then stops.
I don’t look back. If I do, I might soften. I might ask why he talks like death is an old friend. I might care more than is safe for either of us.
And right now, I can’t afford to care about another broken thing.
I have a daughter, a failing clinic, and a mountain winter to survive.
Avalanche men with death wishes are not on the list. Not even the ones with eyes like a storm that almost took him.
Chapter Five
Jax
The lodge smells like pine-scented cleaner and burnt coffee—two things I’ve come to associate with penance. I didn’t want to come in today. I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, or feel the weight of their eyes crawling up my spine like a bad omen.
But the front desk radiator blew, and I’m the only “handyman” who knows how to fix the damn thing without setting the carpet on fire.
I crouch beside the radiator with a wrench and a scowl, pretending I can’t feel three separate sets of eyes drilling into the back of my skull from across the lobby.
Silver Ridge has never met a rumor it didn’t fall instantly in love with. And apparently “weird solitary guy rescued from avalanche by local EMT” is this week’s favorite child.
“Morning, Jax!”
That’s Mrs. Calder, one of the lodge owners. Eighty-five. Four-foot-nine. Built like a dried apricot with opinions. “Heard you had a little adventure the other day.”
I tighten a bolt harder than necessary. “It wasn’t an adventure.”
She hums like she doesn’t believe me. “Well, Ava Dawson saved your hide, didn’t she? Lucky the girl was on duty, or we’d be digging you out come spring.”
I twist another bolt. “Wasn’t her fault I was out there.”
“I didn’t say it was her fault,” she replies. “I’m saying you owe that woman a casserole.”
“I don’t cook.”
“Oh, sweetie, everyone knows.” She winks—winks—and toddles off toward the check-in desk.
I exhale through my teeth.
The lodge manager, Brian, leans over the counter. “Hey man, next time you wanna go avalanche-surfing, maybe wait for summer?”
I ignore him.
He keeps going, because of course he does. “Ava’s a beast, though. Saved little Joey Martin from choking on a jawbreaker last year. Carried Old Man Foster down the ravine after he busted his hip. Now she’s rescuing big guys like you—sheesh, woman’s unstoppable.”
My jaw ticks. I didn’t ask for commentary. I didn’t ask for her name heating the edges of my thoughts like some ember I can’t stomp out.
Ava Dawson.
Up close she’d looked… I don’t know. Warm. Too bright for someone who walked straight into a blizzard for a stranger.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her.
“She’s good at her job,” I say gruffly.
“Good?” Mrs. Calder calls from across the lobby. “She’s a damn heroine!”
I tighten the last bolt before I say something I’ll regret. “Radiator’s fixed.”
