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 like Hanlon.
“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 because shots 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 look at 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.
It’s the first contact we’ve had in years.
A shiver runs down his spine, and he can’t stop the shake of his shoulders. I want to crack a joke, but the look in his eye is murderous.
“Your fingers are fucking freezing,” he says by way of explanation, and I can’t help myself. I press as much of my hand against his neck as I can reach, making him jerk away from me. “Motherfucker,” he spits over the roar of the snowmobile engine.
This time, I can’t help it. A smile spreads across my face.
In retaliation, Hanlon uses both hands to shove me away from him. With his increase in weight, he’s seen an increase in strength, too. One I’m not prepared for, and I go flying off the vehicle, landing in the snow.
Now I’m fully laughing.
“You’re such a fucking dick. You know that?” he pouts.
As a matter of fact, I do.
Before I can collect myself and get back on the snowmobile, another one pulls in next to us.
“Holy shit! Is he laughing?” Logan asks Hanlon.
Hanlon rips his helmet off to answer the coworker from hell.
“It appears that way,” he deadpans, making me laugh harder.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Climbing to my feet, I wave Logan off, replacing my smile with my normal stony affect.
“It won’t happen again. Brief lapse in judgment.”
“It was kinda nice. Who knows, you might finally get laid if you keep that up,” Logan teases. “Then again, you already know you could just—”
Shit, he runs his mouth too fucking much.
I hop on the running snowmobile and take off before he can finish that sentence. Behind me, I feel Hanlon scrambling to put his helmet back on.
“Jesus! A little warning would be nice,” he bitches into the microphone.
“Put your helmet on. We’re leaving,” I fire back, obviously too late.
“God, I hate you.” It’s quiet, and I’m not sure if he meant for it to be under his breath and simply forgot about the microphone resting at his mouth, or if he meant for me to hear it, but the sincerity in the statement forms a pit low in my stomach.
I choose to ignore the comment and begin narrating our tour.
“This internship is a combination of ski and avalanche patrol. At Ricochet, we’re a combined unit.
The first thing you’ll want to do is memorize the trail map.
I’ll give you several, along with a topographical map of the area, when we get back.
It’s probably best to keep one on you at all times.
It’s hard to help an injured skier if you don’t know where they are.
We also assist in backcountry rescue along with the crew from Sapphire Butte because air support is crucial during those rescues,” I explain.
“I imagine the risk of avalanches is much higher in the backcountry since that terrain doesn’t get blasted, but how often do they actually occur out here?” he asks, already getting invested in his new home.
“We get about three to four good ones a year. Highest risk is January through March, with March being the worst. Any guesses as to why that is?” I ask, switching to teacher mode. I already know it’s going to be hard as fuck remembering he’s here as a student, but at least this is safe territory.
Maybe I can give him an assignment on why he chose to study avalanches in the first place, because honestly? I’m dying to know.
“Because an avalanche needs a decent snowpack, and by March, you’ve probably accumulated eighty-five to ninety percent of that season’s snowfall. Plus, the warmer temps during the day can easily destabilize any weakened layers underneath as they thaw and refreeze.”
“Very good,” I tell him, an unexpected rush of pride flowing through my veins.
I swear I hear him blush behind me, and I can imagine his cheeks turning pink just below the frames of his glasses.
He clears his throat before speaking.
“I have to imagine locals and outdoor enthusiasts know that. It always amazes me that people still go out when the risks are so high.”
“People love to flirt with Mother Nature. The prospect of taming her calls to a lot of people.” Ask me how I know, I think wistfully.
“That’s so stupid,” Hanlon says. “No human can tame Mother Nature. She’ll do exactly what she wants, when she wants, and give no thought or care to human life.”
“Oh, I agree. She’s fucking terrifying.”
“And vengeful. I believe she’s full of rage,” he adds.
Perhaps it’s the fact that we’re not face-to-face, or it’s the subject matter, that’s making him open up a little, but I can’t deny that I want to hear more of his thoughtful insights into Mother Nature.
I wind a path up and down the mountain, showing him the resort, doing my best to keep him talking.
It’s also a good way to assess if he’s getting too cold.
So far, his voice has been strong, with no teeth chattering.
We’ve been out about three hours, and we’re making the push to the far eastern boundary when his voice fills my ears.
“I’ve gotta take a leak.”
“What kind of facilities do you prefer? There’s a patch of trees up here to the right, or I can cross the ridge to the restaurant over there. There’s a bathroom in the basement, so you wouldn’t have to go through the main part.”
“Trees are fine,” he says.
When I park, I expect him to hop off immediately and take care of business, but when I don’t feel the snowmobile rock with his departure, I turn to look at him.
“You going?”
“Yeah. I’ve been sitting for a while. I just need a second.”
Fuck. How could I have forgotten to stop and let him stretch his legs? We’ve been on this thing forever.
“Shit, Han. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I told you I didn’t want any special treatment, and I don’t. I just need a second, is all.”
This is why I can’t assign him to another member of my team. I’m not surprised he didn’t tell me he needed a break, but I should’ve known. Instinctively, I get off the vehicle and squat next to it, reaching for his calf, but he pulls away from me, his hand already massaging the tight muscle.
“Don’t,” he growls.
I hold my hands up and stand. “I was just trying to—”
“Help?” he finishes for me. “I could’ve used your help when I was fourteen and nervous as hell about starting high school.
I could’ve used your help at sixteen, learning how to drive stick-shift, since Mom and Dad were so concerned about me having enough motor coordination that they wouldn’t even let me try.
And I definitely could’ve used some help at twenty when I had to declare a major, but was so overwhelmed with all the choices that I wondered how someone manages life as an adult.
Obviously, I couldn’t go to Mom and Dad because their solution would have been to buy me a fucking condo and pay for all my shit, so I didn’t have to decide.
But now? Now I don’t need your fucking help.
I just need you to show me how to do my job so I can get the hell out of here and move on. ”
By the time he’s done, I’m fucking speechless, and he’s loosened himself up enough to be able to get off the machine.
His gait is stiff, and I can’t help but be concerned about him despite his animosity toward me, especially since it’s warranted.
There’s a lot more to cover before Hanlon will be an asset to this team instead of a liability, but I think we’ve hit our quota for each other today, and once he’s done, we head back down to Basecamp.
I can only hope that today gets busy, and I’m able to occupy my mind with something other than my stepbrother.