Wild about Violet, page 16
“Yeah. She’s the best friend I ever had. She’s kept me grounded the last three years since I moved up to Alaska and my career exploded.”
He nods like my confession wasn’t a surprise. “That’s another reason you two will make it. You built your marriage on something more than just attraction, lust, and fame. Don’t get me wrong. I know couples who met in the spotlight and are killing it. It’s just so much easier when there’s a base of friendship to touch down on when the highs of being a celebrity pop.” He claps me on the shoulder and jerks his chin toward the people milling at the run’s start. “Should we get to it?”
“Sure.”
Staring across the mountain ridges, I sit a moment longer as Matt stands. The churning that’s gnawed my stomach since Guatemala City eases to a low burn. Maybe Matt is right. I want to believe him, to snatch on to what he said and hold it close. My gaze trails to the bottom of the valley where Violet waits at the bright yellow resort. It’s like a beacon down there, shining my way home. Only one question remains. Do I let it draw me in?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
-Violet-
Just so you know, waiting is torture. It’s been hours since Kemp and Matt left to make the trek up the mountain. Long minutes of watching their progress on foot from the ski lift’s end up the rocky trail. Kemp kept his lead the entire way, though if I hadn’t seen him get on the lift first or noticed the red stripe on the back of his helmet, it’d be hard to distinguish the two men apart with the matching winter gear the resort provided.
He’d been on the top of the mountain for eight minutes and—I glance at my watch—thirty-nine seconds. How long is he going to rest? I pace along the rocky ridge the race officials brought Sally and me to when the men got close to the top. Its vantage point overlooks the Super-C Kemp will jet down. I peek at my watch again, frustrated that it’s only been twenty-one seconds since the last time I looked.
I stop, take a deep breath, and relax my hands. Well, try to relax. That hike up Roca Jack couldn’t have been easy. Just because I’ve spent the last few hours lounging on the resort porch, sipping hot chocolate or having snowball fights with the kids hanging around the cameras, doesn’t mean Kemp has to snap to it. I close my eyes and pray for peace and safety. While I’m here, I might as well list all my concerns. It’s much more useful than fretting.
“Look. Kemp’s lining up,” Sally gushes and hands me the binoculars.
My eyes whip open, and I snatch the glasses from her hands so fast she jumps back a little. “Sorry.”
“Oh, honey. I know exactly how you feel. I’m so nervous for Matt I might ruin the pretty white snow by upchucking my hot chocolate all over it.” She places her mittened fingers on her cheeks. “At least Kemp’s used to the snow. We ski and all, but nothing like this.”
Her voice trembles at the end, and I wrap my arm around her and pull her into a side hug. She shakes like a leaf against me. Here I am, mentally urging Kemp to hurry it up—I mean, this is what he does for a living, granted usually on a board instead of two sticks, but still, he’s totally got this—and Sally’s worked herself into a tizzy.
“Hey. Don’t worry. See how the mountain forms that C through the rocks?” I point up where the run starts.
“Uh huh.” Sally’s hesitant voice barely reaches past her lips.
“Well, the snow will just keep them in the funnel, and the rest of the run past the rocks is smooth as butter.” I give her a squeeze.
Technically, it’s the truth. I’ve snowboarded down mountaintops like this back in Alaska with Kemp. Granted, the couloirs have never been this long or narrow, but if Matt just stays in the middle and keeps tight, he’ll make it. Hopefully, he can watch how Kemp does it and follow suit.
“Oh, look. The flag is waving.” Sally points to the top of the hill where a big red flag is bouncing back and forth on the edge of the cliff.
I slam the binoculars up so fast they knock against my face. “Shoot.”
Rubbing my forehead to make the tears disappear, I place the glasses up more gently. Kemp rocks twice on the ledge but doesn’t go. Why is he hesitating? That’s not like him at all. Nerves skitter up my arms and tingle through my fingers. If he’s hesitating, then the slope must be worse than it looks from down here. I stare through the binoculars, my stomach twisting tighter and tighter with each second he stalls.
Finally, he leans back on his skis and pushes off with his poles. The crowds gathered on the rock ridges on the other side of the run shout cheers. A trail of sparks from a firework shoots up toward the mountain from the people and explodes into a sparkle of lights with a bang that echoes up the valley.
I lower the binoculars as Kemp makes the curve, my gaze snagging on movement on the mountain. The snow sloughs off the rocks in a line that slides lower and lower. My heart flies into my throat.
Avalanche.
“No.” I tear my gaze from the rolling snow and focus on Kemp. “No, no, no.”
The snow builds into a billowing cloud of white just as Kemp shoots from the stone gap. The raging beast tumbles behind his skis, making his body jerk as he compensates for the crashing snow. He’ll never make it.
Memories of my sister, Sadie, buried in an avalanche rush from the depths of my brain, forcing their way before me. I push them aside. They can’t bombard me now, not when I need to keep all my focus on Kemp. If I can see exactly where the avalanche overtakes him, I can better pinpoint where to look for him. Every second counts when someone is buried beneath pounds of snow that pack like cement around them.
That thought forces up the replay of finding Sadie and her best friend, Melinda, the memory as real as if I’m there again.
Fear chills me at the sight of the cabin crushed into a tumbled tomb of logs by the force of the snow. I rush into the cabin behind my mom, screaming at the sight of Melinda’s eleven-year-old body in a case of white. Her eyes stare blankly into space. Sadie is unconscious on the opposite side, her lips blue with hypothermia. The snow had pushed her into the wood stove, burning through her sweatshirt and melting the skin on her arms and collarbone practically off. The smell of burnt flesh saturates the small opening the tumbled cabin had created.
“Stop.” I shake my head to dislodge the playback as bile rushes up my throat.
My focus must be on the now. Every cell of my body freezes as the snow rushes over the back of Kemp’s skis and bucks him off balance. I note the location against the rocks on the opposite side, then scan the rolling rush of white for any glimpse of the bright yellow Portillo Ski coat. I don’t remember them putting on beacons, so, unless they had him put it on at the top, there won’t be any pinpointing his location.
There. An arm and shoulder peek from the white farther down the slope a second before the snow boils back over. One ski shoots from the rolling snow, while the other pokes up and tumbles back under. Then, out of the churning, bright hunter-orange flashes. Relief almost makes my knees buckle. He’s wearing an avalanche airbag. Praise God.
I keep my eyes on it. Even with the safety backpack, he can still get buried or sustain life-threatening injuries. Could still die.
Melinda’s shocked expression stares at me.
I blink, clearing my vision of her to the slope before me. If I had gone with Dad and Sadie the night before instead of coming up with Mom the next day, the snow would’ve buried me too.
The rolling slows to a stop, and I sprint across the packed snow. A swath of orange peeks from the white. Others make it there before me, but I push them aside to get to Kemp.
“Excuse us.” Sally’s sharp voice hollers right behind me. “Move out of the way!”
The circle opens, and I stumble at the amount of snow covering Kemp. Three men lift chunks of white from around the orange. Kemp’s boot with the ski still attached sticks out awkwardly at an angle that can only mean a major break. How much of the rest of him is busted up?
Sally grabs my hand and wraps her other arm around mine in a hug. I want to push the men aside and dig like a wild woman, but I can see from their meticulous yet quick motions that they know what they are doing. They finally get Kemp’s head free from the snow and pull off his helmet, but it’s not Kemp.
“No, Matt!” Sally screams beside me, and I wrap my arms around her to keep her from rushing forward.
A sob rips from me as I scan the mountaintop for a sign of Kemp. How is it Matt buried in the snow? Kemp had arrived at the top first. I’m sure of it. Why didn’t he go first?
“He’s alive!” one man digging Matt out yells, and Sally falls to her knees.
I go down with her, too weak to stay standing. Besides, she needs someone to hold her together. With the relief, the memories cascade as if what little will I had to keep them at bay breaks. They’re flooding me with warring images, sounds, and smells from the past. Finding Sadie unmoving and buried in the snow. The months of healing she went through for her burns. Other rescue missions I’ve gone on. All of that mixed with what just happened in a painful rush.
“We’ve got a helicopter on standby to take him to the hospital.” Ivy steps up beside us. I haven’t talked to her since Vegas. “Sally, as soon as he’s out of the snow, you two will fly out, okay?”
Sally nods, her sobs coming so hard I doubt she can speak.
“I have another helicopter that will bring Kemp off of the mountain as soon as Matt is gone.” Ivy presses her lips together like she needs to in order to stop talking.
She had everything so planned out. Did she not have a contingency in place for this kind of emergency?
“Okay,” I answer through the bombardment in my brain.
Ten minutes later, Sally climbs into the helicopter with Matt. He broke his femur, probably more bones than that, but with the quick work of the diggers, they should get him to the hospital to catch anything life threatening. I stumble off toward the resort.
The memories reel so quickly now that I may never get them back under control. My head will rip open at any moment from the pain and assault. Finding my way to the resort, I make it into the elevator. I’m shaking so badly my knees buckle with the whoosh of the elevator moving. My arms lock against the railing mounted to the wall to stay standing.
I stare at my reflection in the mirrored door, but I don’t see myself. All I see is Melinda and Sadie and all the others. The doors slide open, and I tumble out, rushing to the trashcan in the hall and losing my hot chocolate.
Somehow, I make it to our room. My hand trembles hard, and it takes four tries to get the keycard in the lock and the door open. I strip out of my jacket and head to the bathroom. Maybe if I can just warm up, I can get the flood to slow enough to push the nightmares back to the depths where I want them.
I turn on the shower and take off my jeans. Tripping as my foot sticks in the bottom, I finally get out of them and stagger into the shower without taking anything else off. I just want the warmth.
Just want to forget.
The hot flow hits, and I flinch at the burning heat. It doesn’t help the rapid playback of life’s worst memories from streaming. I lean my head against the tile, sliding down the wall until I curl into a tight ball. My sobs ache against my ribs.
“Stop.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight to the memories, though I know that won’t help either. “Please … please stop.”
It’s useless. They’ll never stop.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
-Kemp-
The instant the helicopter touches down, I dash toward the resort. Waiting up at the top of the mountain took every ounce of my patience. I could have easily skied down the chute once the avalanche finished, but—noooo—safety and all that. Sure, the race officials received updates, but I needed to be down there.
Needed to make sure Violet was okay.
“Kemp!” Ivy hollers, holding up her hand for me to stop.
I don’t hold back the groan of frustration.
“I know. I’ll make it quick,” Ivy clips in an efficient tone. “The resort has their experts checking the snow’s stability, and we should be able to continue with the race tomorrow.”
“Fine.” I try to push past, but she stops me.
I raise my eyebrow at her.
“Tomorrow morning at sunup, if we get the go ahead, a helicopter will take you to the top for your run. You already hiked Roca Jack once. I’m not going to make you do it again.” She smiles at me like she’s given me a prize.
“Ivy, don’t take this wrong, but I couldn’t care less what you make me do. Want me to walk naked through a snowstorm while juggling pineapples? Fine, show me the way … tomorrow. Right now, all I care about is finding my wife.”
“She’s in your room.” Ivy tips her head, her mouth twitching up on one side.
I sprint for the elevators. When they move too slowly, I take off for the stairs. This intense necessity to see her—to hold her—overwhelms me so much it’s scary. Yet, I can’t ignore it anymore.
When I make it to the room, I slam the keycard in the slot so hard it bends. The green light blinks, and I turn the knob. If I go barreling in there, I’ll freak Violet out. I take two deep breaths to calm down, then push the door open.
Panic wells back up when I take in the empty room. I turn to go search the resort when the shower running in the bathroom registers. Tapping on the door, I lean my head against the doorjamb and close my eyes to the relief loosening my muscles. When she doesn’t answer, I knock louder.
Nothing.
I press my ear to the door. Her mumbling faintly reaches me over the noise of the shower. She still hasn’t answered me. I pace away from the door, pushing my hand through my hair.
I can’t go in. We haven’t gotten to that point in our relationship, especially with my jerkface attitude the last few days. Staring blankly out the window, I struggle with what to do. I still worry that I’m only wanting the relationship because of selfishness, but I also know we work. I need her to be whole, and from what she said in the Skypod, she’s not willing to let go of me either. Huffing out a sigh, I walk back up to the barrier between me and my wife.
My wife.
If she’ll still have me. I’ll show her how much I love her, make up my boneheadedness to her somehow. First, though, I have to see if she’s okay.
“Please … stop.” Violet’s anguished plea muffles through the door, and my hesitance is gone.
“Violet, baby, you okay?” I knock on the door, but she still doesn’t answer me.
All right. I’ll just open it a crack and peek in. Maybe she can’t hear me over the water. If everything is fine, I’ll wait out here for her to finish. With a sweat-slicked hand, I turn the knob.
“Violet?”
Thick steam punches me in the face, instantly making me hot. I glance toward the shower, keeping my gaze high where her head should be and not lower. I don’t want to be even more in the doghouse than I already am. The water’s running, but she’s not there.
Opening the door farther, my stomach hardens and drops like a boulder kicked off the top of Roca Jack. She’s bunched in the bottom of the shower in her soaked North STAR Kennel T-shirt, bright pink underwear, and moose-wearing-stocking-caps socks. Her legs curl up against her chest, her head tucked into her knees as she rocks back and forth. Water splashes over her head and runs down her face, but I don’t think she notices.
“Baby?” My word garbles in my throat, choking me.
She’s never, not once in all the rough search-and-rescue missions we’ve been on, looked like this. I yank my coat down and kick my boots off. When I open the glass shower door, more steam rolls over me. The scorching water hurts as it pelts my arm and shoulders. I turn the knob to cool down the water so it doesn’t boil our skin off and squat down next to Violet.
“Vi.” I touch her shoulder, and she flinches, curling in on herself even more. “Vi, baby, it’s me.”
I push my hand along her shoulder and move her wet hair off her cheek. When she finally lifts her head, her puffy face and red eyes break my heart. Her chin trembles, and she reaches a shaking hand toward me.
“Kemp?” Her voice breaks, and I lose it.
I don’t even hide the tears that pool and splash down my cheeks.
“I’m here. We’re okay.” I take her hand in mine.
“No. I’m not okay.” Her frantic grasp rips me apart even more. “I’ll never be okay.”
“Shh, that’s not true.” I sit next to her and wrap my arm around her.
“They won’t stop.” She pushes her hand to her head and leans it against my chest.
“What won’t?”
“The memories. They’ve broken the surface, and I can’t get them back down. They won’t stop playing. Sadie and Melinda stuck in the snow. The smell, Kemp. I can smell Sadie’s burned skin. Then there’s the avalanche overtaking you … I mean, Matt.” A sob shakes her body as her words tumble out faster and faster. “I’m living them over and over again. I can’t … I can’t get them back below the surface. They’re drowning me.”
I hadn’t considered that she couldn’t keep the memories at bay. She explained how she’s learned to control them and float above them, keeping her eyes focused on the now. She said her one-kiss rule kept things easier. Did she mean keep the possibility of hurtful events like break-ups and heartaches from haunting her like these memories are? I never imagined the depth of what this superpower did and how it could harm her. How could I even combat an enemy that’s in her mind?
“I remember the first day I met you.” I’m not sure where the thought came from, but I’m rolling with it. “I’d just signed up with Search and Rescue, and your dad made me go on a rappelling training day.”
She lifts her head, her voice weak and trembling. “I remember.”
“All the volunteers met on the top of the cliff with your uncle, and your dad was at the bottom, hollering up commands. You came over right away when I pulled up and threaded your arm through mine like you were greeting a friend you’d known forever. It wasn’t at all fake. I remember thinking I’d never met someone as open and welcoming as you. Your hair was a soft pink all over then, like the color of the sky when the sun starts to set over the ocean.”
