“Great, so now I have to worry about being pushed out of it, too. At least I’ll probably have already passed out by then,” I tease.
“Jesus Christ, you really have no self-preservation instincts, do you?”
“Says the man who handles explosives and purposely triggers deadly amounts of snow to fall down a mountain on the daily,” I snark. “Does Mom know you aren’t just out here helping injured skiers down groomed slopes?”
Stone scoffs. “Please. I’m totally safe. Besides, we both know our parents arefarmore concerned about you coming back in one piece than they’ve ever been about me.” He goes still as soon as the words leave his lips, like he didn’t mean to say that last part, and I turn to face him in my seat.
“You can’t seriously think that’s true.”
Can he?
Chapter 5
Stone
Idefinitely didn’t mean to let that slip.
Being back in Hanlon’s presence is resurrecting a lot of old hurt and insecurities that I’ve spent the last several years running from and burying under the avalanches I set free. Maybe that’s why I love my job so much. I get to fly high above the chaos and destruction, while taking away the mountain’s power and ability to destroy.
Sounds like some poetic, metaphorical bullshit.
Sounds likeHanlon.
“Drop it. I don’t know why I said that,” I tell him, pulling back into our office—A.K.A. ‘Basecamp.’
Thankfully, when we return, everyone is out in the field, and the building is quiet.
Grabbing the keys to the two-seater, I tell Hanlon to switch his boots out for the new ones and put on his red patrol jacket.
“I’d also recommend using the glove liners while the batteries for your heated gloves charge. We’ll be out for a while.”
Hanlon doesn’t argue as he follows my orders. It’s always been that way with us. Well, until I fucked it up by cutting him out. When he was little, I never had to ask twice. Hanlon isn’t really a people pleaser…except when it comes to me.
Once he’s dressed, I look him over, making sure I didn’t leave anything out. The first sign of his teeth chattering, and our tour will be over.
“Let’s go.”
He pauses at the snowmobile.
“Where’s mine?”
“It’s right here,” I say, pointing to the back seat.
“Just figured you’d want more space than that since, you know, being in the same time zone proved to be too close.”
I fight my smile becauseshots fired. Hanlon isn’t pulling any punches, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I refuse to admit that my favorite version of him is the one that pushes back a little.
Bringing the subject back to the snowmobile, I add, “There’s a backrest and handles on the side, but you’re welcome just to hold on to me while we ride.”
“And risk getting burned?” he says without missing a beat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
If he keeps this up, I might actually smile today…I’ll also need a beer by ten a.m.
He climbs on without another word, scooting as far back as he can, and I hand him his helmet. The wind makes the ride cold as fuck, so the helmet actually plays three roles: keep our heads warm, protect our head and neck in case of an accident, and it has a built-in earpiece and microphone so we can communicate with each other and the other members of ski and avi patrol in the field.
I climb onto the front and crank it up before speaking into the microphone, but he doesn’t answer me.
“Hanlon?” I say, and again nothing. I turn in my seat to lookat him. I can see him mouthing ‘What?’ but I don’t hear it. Realizing his helmet must be set to the wrong channel, I pull my gloves off and push his head to the side so I can see his radio controls. They’re positioned underneath the helmet so they don’t get changed by accident, and as I reach for the dial, my fingers graze his neck.
