Page 5 of Mountain Impact

Drake placed one hand gently on Isolde’s back and led her to the trees he’d just walked out of, ready to pick her up if she fell. He avoided the particular tree where he’d stopped to retch a few minutes earlier and guided her to a nearby one. As soon as they were out of sight, he placed his hands under her armpits, gently encouraging her down into a sitting position.

She felt solid in his arms, real—he tried not to think about how close her breasts were to his hands.

“Sit down, Isolde, before you fall.”

“I can’t, somebody will—”

Her eyes, as she looked up at him, were panicked.

He understood her reserve.

“There’s nobody here, Isolde. Just us,” he said as gently as he could. “There, put your head between your knees—that’s great. Now try to breathe. Slow and deep.”

He moved back to give her space and waited, clenching his fists, as she struggled to get air into and out of her lungs. He had half a mind to go find Jens, their team’s doctor, who was somewhere around.

What the hell do you know about anxiety?

She might need more support than you’re able to provide.

Isolde looked up and shook her head softly―she’d always had an uncanny ability to read his mind.

Finally, her breaths slowed down enough that Drake thought she might be able to hear to his words.

“It’s not the same as last time,” he said quietly.

She raised her head from between her knees. “Quoi?”

“I said, it’s not the same as last time. The two men were alive and conscious when I got them out. One hurt his leg, the other one hurt his shoulder. They’re fine—or at least, Jens thinks they’ll both make a full recovery.”

“How did you—”

“I got lucky,” he said, not wanting to get into the details of how he’d only just managed to drag the second man out when the cabin went off the ledge and rolled another fifty feet further down the mountain. Knowing that wouldn’t make Isolde feel safer—and that’s what she needed, to feel safer, more in control.

“It’s not like last time,” she repeated, like a mantra. “It’s not like last time.”

Something clenched inside Drake’s chest.

So arrogant.

Why did I assume I was the only one whose life changed that day?

Chapter 3

Isolde

Isolde hit the snooze button for the third time and placed a pillow over her head to protect herself from the light streaming in through her bedroom window—she’d once again forgotten to close the blinds. Sighing, she finally turned over and sat up in bed.

She’d tossed and turned half the night, trapped in a series of nightmares of her own making. The forest had figured prominently in all of them. There’d been people trapped inside the trees at the edge of a trail—straining to get out, like animals in a cage. Isolde had hovered, sometimes over the trees, sometimes on the trail, her body moving heavily, as if wading through molasses.

She couldn’t even blame the nightmares on the heat. Late summer had given way to early fall, that magical time of year when the Chamonix Valley’s palette went from bright green to dusty orange ombré. It was normally Isolde’s favorite time of year. She wasn’t a big skier, so the entire fall season, before the snow and the hordes of winter visitors arrived, suited her just fine.

But no, one didn’t need to be Freud to interpret her dreams―after yesterday’s events, she knew exactly where her nightmares were coming from. Instead of doing her job, she’d let herself fall prey to a panic attack. And it’d been Drake Jacobs, of all people, who’d had to step in to help her. She bit her lower lip reflexively.

How am I going to outlive the embarrassment?

Isolde made her way to the bathroom in her black, lacy nightgown. It was the kind of outfit most women wore to please their partners, but Isolde wore it to please herself. She wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, but she loved beautiful lingerie and nightclothes—it didn’t matter to her if nobody ever else got to see them. She liked wearing them, and didn’t see any reason not to pamper herself.

She turned the overhead bathroom light on, then wished she hadn’t as she caught sight of her face in the mirror. She looked exactly like what she felt like.