Sisters In Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Four, Sisters in Love

“Whoa, the back? Dave, come on. You know how this goes. Warm up. Then, when you’re—” Blake watched Dave stomp, not ski, in the direction of the back side of the mountain. Visibility was already an issue. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and opened his mouth to call to Dave, but he was nowhere in sight. “Meet you at the bottom,” he said to himself.

Blake took the front side of the mountain slow and easy, relishing in the familiar whisking of the cold snow against his face. His knees knew just where and when to bend; his body took the turns with practiced memory. Reckless kids sped past him at racing speeds. He smiled. That’s how he had been at that age, indestructible. I still am, he thought to himself with pride. He picked up speed. The snow was coming down thick and fast.

Blake wondered if he should have stopped Dave from skiing down the back of the mountain. It wasn’t as well lit as the front, and that side of the mountain had steep cliffs and a rough terrain interspersed with trees and enormous moguls. He thought of Sally at home with their son while Dave was here having fun, and the way Dave had reacted to the phone call. Marriage was a strange equation to Blake. No matter how he added it up, one plus one did not equate to a lifetime of happiness and excitement. He wondered if he’d ever be content with just one woman in his life, if he’d ever be able to sleep with just one woman—or if he’d ever want to.  

He slid into the clearing at the bottom of the hill and saw the rescue team suiting up. He had yet to ski at night without seeing an accident. The trails were filled with rookies who thought they could take a high bump and kids who knew no boundaries. There were five trails at the resort, and he’d skied them all. The back wasn’t even the toughest terrain. There was one higher, rougher trail, accessible only by the ski lift that had dropped them at the crest of the trail. It also went all the way to the top, to the crest of Little Hellion. Only experienced skiers were allowed to ski Little Hellion, and they wore special tags on their jackets. Blake looked down at his tag. He and Dave had passed the course requirements for taking on Little Hellion three years earlier. He remembered that afternoon fondly. He and Dave had ribbed each other about the other one failing to tackle the pre-Hellion trails, but they both surpassed the expected skill level. Hot-dog Dave even flipped over a few of the moguls, angering the instructors. Blake smiled at the memory. When it came to skiing, Dave had always been a show-off.

The rescue team headed right while Blake skied to the left, toward the end of the back run, to meet Dave. One of the rescue team’s snowmobiles was pulling out, and Blake skied off to the side to let it pass.

“Where’s the fall?” he hollered.

“Little Hellion. Just closed the slope. Be careful out there.” The snowmobile zoomed away at full throttle.

Blake knew that if the slope was closed, the accident was bad. He wondered who’d been dumb enough to ham it up on Little Hellion on a night like tonight.

The fresh powder made the trek toward the back take longer than it should. When Blake finally arrived, a handful of skiers were sliding into the unpacked snow, sending thick sheets of snow careening into the air. Blake stood off to the side and waited for Dave.

After fifteen minutes, he wondered if he’d missed Dave and if he’d already headed back up the lift for another run. As a twenty-something-year-old guy came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Blake asked him if he’d seen Dave.

“He’s about this tall.” Blake held up his hand to eye level. “Royal-blue jacket, great skier.”

“Nope. Dude, it’s rough up there. I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me, but I didn’t see anyone stuck or hurt, if that’s what you mean. I did hear of an accident up on Little Hellion.”

“Right, thanks.” Blake headed back toward the front of the mountain. When he reached the lift, he decided to wait a little longer. Dave had been upset. Maybe he just wanted to be alone for a while. Hell, he’d take one more quick trip down the mountain and then look for Dave. What could it hurt? Dave was a big boy.

The ski lift bumped over each of the pole junctions. The skiers below Blake became tiny specs amid a sea of white as he ascended the mountain. At the top, he skied off the lift and stood at the crest, admiring the magnificent view. Blake was five when he first began skiing with his father, and by the time he was seven, he was already catching air. As a teen, he’d joined a weekend ski team. The older kids hung out together before and after practice. They’d spent practically all day on Saturdays and Sundays on the slopes. What had started as a dare between friends—flip over the biggest mogul you can find—turned into a competition, then a passion, and later, into a full-blown obsession. From then on, Blake was hooked. He’d even taken private lessons and learned to acroski better than anyone he’d ever met, with the exception of Dave.

They’d met as adults, on the slopes. Dave had just finished a big jump; he'd spun off of a cliff, landed perfectly, and zoomed the rest of the way down the slope. Blake had complimented him. Man, you sure hurled your carcass up there. Nice. Dave said thanks, but walked away and totally blew him off. So Blake took to the cliff. He wasn’t one to be ignored—or outdone. Dave acted like he wasn’t watching, but Blake knew better. To be an acroskier you had to be competitive. After Blake’s perfect, corked spin, Dave approached and offered to teach him how to straighten it out. It took a minute for Blake to realize that Dave was joking, and when he had, they’d become fast friends. Dave Tuft was a master. Truly gifted. He could catch more air, perform masterful flips, and twist in ways that Blake still couldn’t replicate. Dave knew it, too, and at times that confidence made him reckless. He’d broken his fair share of bones.

A helicopter flew in low overhead. This can’t be good. Blake watched it descend toward the Little Hellion run. The snowmobile came down the mountain and pulled onto the crest where Blake stood.

“We’re closing the slopes. Take your last run.” It was the same rescue team member that Blake had seen at the bottom of the hill.

“That was fast. Bad one, huh?” he asked.

The man took off his goggles and looked at Blake with serious, dark eyes. “Nothing we could do. The guy didn’t make it.”

Blake had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Near as we can tell, the guy must've misjudged his direction. Landed in the trees along the edge of the first cliff. Broken neck on impact.”

The hair on the back of Blake’s neck stood on end. “Jesus. Was he tagged for the mountain?”

“Yeah, he was tagged. Guy was wearing Arc’teryx and Völkl. He wasn’t a novice.”

The world spun around him. Blake’s body went numb. “Yellow goggles?”

“You’ve seen him before?”

Dave.