Shit. She's not stopping.
And I know, with a certainty that bypasses thought, bypasses logic, that I will get to her first…. because I have to. I don't think about the next part. Thinking is what gets you hurt. I just move.
The lift is still ten feet off the ground, but I don't wait. I release the bar, swing my legs forward, and launch.
Annabella shouts behind me. I’m not sure how she figured out that I was on the bunny hill lift, but I'm already landing, skis biting into snow, knees absorbing the impact. Pain jolts through my shins, sharp and immediate, but I'm already pushing forward, carving a hard line down the slope.
Natalia is maybe a hundred yards away. Unfortunately, the tree is closer.
Zack is yelling again, skiing after her, but he's too far and his angle is wrong.
I'm faster.
I cut across the slope, letting gravity do the work, my edges screaming as I carve tighter, harder, every muscle in my body locked on one thing—reach her.
She sees me. I catch the flash of her face turning, eyes wide, but there's no time for recognition, no time for anything except the last ten feet between us and the moment I wrap my arm around her waist and pull.
She gasps and then we're turning, momentum carrying us in a wide, controlled arc away from the trees. I twist my body, putting myself between her and the ground as we skid to a stop in a spray of snow.
Her chest heaves against mine, breath coming fast and shallow. My arm is still around her, locked tight, my hand splayed across her ribs.
She's shaking with adrenaline, and fuck… so am I.
"You're okay," I hear myself say, and my voice sounds wrong. Too rough, too raw. "You're okay."
She doesn't answer. She just curls herself into me tighter, her cheek against my chest, she tries to catch her breath. Then, finally, she stares up at me, eyes dark and wide, still caught in the adrenaline spike.
I should let her go, but for some unknown reason, I just can’t.
My hands stay on her longer than necessary—one around her waist, the other braced against her shoulder, holding her steady against me. Or maybe holdingmyselfsteady. I can feel her heartbeat through the layers of jacket and fleece, can feel the way her breath stutters and evens out.
She’s alive and safe, and that’s all that matters right now.
"You saved my life," she says.
I lean down closer, about ready to kiss her when her name echoes off the snow-covered mountains around us.
"Natalia!"
Zack skids to a stop beside us, breathing hard, his face flushed with exertion and concern. He crouches down, eyes scanning her for injuries.
"Are you hurt? Did you hit anything?"
"I'm fine," she says, beginning to pull out of my hold, her voice is thin and shaky.
Zack reaches for her arm, his touch gentle, reassuring, and she leans into it.
Something dark and ugly coils in my chest, and I want to smack his hand away from her.
Instead, I don’t move. I let her move back towards Zack.
"What the hell was that? Where were you?" I ask him.
"It got a little out of hand, but I can assure you, she's safe with me. I promise," Zack says, meeting my eyes. His tone is calm and friendly. There’s no challenge, no edge. Just a guy doing his job.
I should agree. Should step back, let him handle this. That's what makes sense.
Instead, I hear myself say, "Is she?"
