In Hong Kong, and every minute since he’d landed back in the States, he’d fought the urge to go to her, to haul her into his arms, to beg her to give him another chance. But they were impossible. They didn’t fit, wouldn’t work.
It was over.
Finn shook off his despondency, the heavy despair. He wasn’t going to think about Beah, not today when the sun was shining, the sky clear and the powder fresh. He was going to take a couple of days here in Colorado, enjoy the snow and the solitude, push the pause button on his life and his emotions.
When he felt more settled, when his heart was a little stronger, he’d return to Boston and try to create a life without Beah in it. It was going to take some doing but he was a determined guy.
He’d succeed.
Eventually.
As a regular of the resort, he’d been told a group of expert skiers was heading out this morning, along with a couple of snowboarders to an area good for going off-piste. It was the last chance he’d have to ski for a while and Finn knew the area, called Hell’s Run, remembering it was prone to avalanches. But there were no avalanche warnings and the call of fresh powder was too great to ignore. The run required total focus and concentration, exactly what he needed to dispel a certain redhead from his thoughts.
Finn placed his goggles over his eyes and pushed off, wanting to be the first to make tracks on the virgin snow. He watched as a snowboarder overtook him and his competitive spirit sprang to life. He was not going to let a teenager beat him down the run. Enjoying the silence and the fresh snow, the freedom of flying, he sped up, veering right to overtake the younger man. The color of the guy’s ski jacket was exactly the same as Beah’s eyes...
Finn felt the smack of one of his skis slapping the snowboard and he released a curse when he tumbled, spitting out a mouthful of snow. Finn felt his skis fly off and released a string of F-bombs, trying to think back to when last he’d taken a fall.
Ten years ago? Fifteen? God, this was embarrassing. The last way he wanted to travel down the mountain was on his butt.
Finn felt a wave of snow smack him in the face and thought one of the skiers had passed him, spraying snow into his face. But instead of slowing down, he just sped up and then the thought occurred to him that something was wrong, very damn wrong.
He was battling to breathe...
Years, months, centuries later he came to a stop, facedown in the snow. Every inch of his body felt bruised and battered and he pushed down on his hands to lift himself up but he moved maybe a half inch before hitting a solid wall. What the hell? Finn hauled in a deep breath and realized there wasn’t much air. He felt like he was breathing through a heavy blanket.
A blanket made of snow, constructed by an avalanche. Yep, this wasn’t good. This wasn’t good in an “I think I might die here” kind of way.
Finn thought about screaming but decided it was more important to conserve air. He had a transponder on his jacket; hopefully his group would know he was missing and not think that he’d skied on ahead of them. His fault for trying to be a hotshot. The best thing he could do now was try to relax, try not to think...
But think he did.
Beah’s face, pale and lovely, those red curls tumbling to her shoulders, appeared on the big screen behind his eyes and he wished...
Wished he had another chance. Wished he’d loved her like she deserved to be loved, wished he hadn’t wasted the past decade trying to protect himself. He should’ve been braver, smarter, dammit, and accepted the love she’d offered him.
A bit late now, jackass.
Finn felt the blackness approaching, could see it at the corners of his eyes. How long had he been trapped? He didn’t know but he was pretty sure he was slowly suffocating and running out of time. Eleven minutes and he’d be a corpse, how much longer did he have?
Finn moved his hand and drew a heart in the snow, managed to scrape his and Beah’s initials with his finger, knowing she wouldn’t see it but needing to leave something tangible on the earth he was about to leave.
Then the world turned dark...
In the hired car on the way to the hospital, Beah turned in her seat and looked at Carrick, whose hand had yet to leave her back. “Tell me again,” she demanded, her voice raspy with fear.
“He was caught in an avalanche,” Carrick patiently replied, giving no hint he’d told her the same story at least twenty times between picking her up to take her to his private jet and pushing her into this hired car five hours later.
“When they found him fifteen minutes later, he didn’t have a pulse. They resuscitated him with CPR. He has severe hypothermia but he’ll be fine.”
“No brain damage from the lack of oxygen?” Beah asked, again. She’d heard this before, she knew the answer, but Carrick’s and Ronan’s calm voices and steady eyes reassured her.
“Today was a warm day and he wasn’t wearing much gear and the hypothermia slowed his metabolism and reduced his brain’s need for oxygen. It helped that Finn is super fit.”
Beah looked down at her trembling hand and at her bouncing knee. “I’m going to bloody kill him!”
“You and me both, Bee.” Ronan sent her a sympathetic smile. He was driving, Joa sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Sadie sat on the other side of Beah, her hand on Beah’s knee.
“There won’t be any recriminations, any yelling or shouting or accusations, until Finn is back to full strength,” Carrick told them.