Chapter 22 Landon
LANDON
Snow sprayed everywhere as I skidded to a stop as close to the lodge entrance as I could. I detached the skis almost without stopping and jogged toward the entrance, my heart already pounding.
There were two porters waiting just inside the door.
“Get the emergency equipment,” I barked at them.
“What’s going on?” one asked as the other dashed inside.
“We have a Code White.” The words hung in the air for a split second. Then he pressed a button on the wall.
A minute later, I was in the equipment room, my hands moving on autopilot as I shoved whatever I thought I might need into a bag. Flares. Bottles of water. Hand warmers. Emergency blankets. My mind was racing, running through scenarios, calculating how much daylight there was left.
Maybe an hour. Maybe less.
One of the porters brought up a first aid kit, and more of the senior staff were showing up now. They’d gotten the message.
“What do you need?” Mrs. Greer asked, her usual stern expression replaced with something closer to concern.
“More members of the ski patrol,” I muttered, not giving her my full attention.
But there weren’t any. It was just me.
Vivian was there too. “Who is it?” she asked.
“The boy and his father. They didn’t come back.”
I heard a gasp and saw that Zoe had joined the crowd. Her face was pale, her eyes wide.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself, shoving another blanket into the pack. “Why the fuck don’t we have better equipment?”
These weren’t the Rockies, but people could still get hurt up on the mountain.
And if they did, that was on me. Shit, why didn’t we have a rescue sled I could pull?
If I found one or both of them hurt, what was I supposed to do—sling them over my shoulders?
There was a stretcher, but I couldn’t carry it by myself.
A sled would be better. The kind that could drag behind me and carry someone on.
I should have pushed management harder. The resort in Aspen had been so well-stocked. State-of-the-art equipment, a full patrol team, backup systems for everything. I should have insisted we do better here. Should have made it non-negotiable.
But I hadn’t. And now a father and son were out there somewhere, cold, maybe hurt—and the sun was going down.
Zoe was pale as she came toward me. “Is there anything I can—”
“No.”
I said it brusquely, though I didn’t mean to snap at her. I just didn’t have time.
“There is something you could do,” came a new voice.
Asher. He jerked his head toward the lobby. “The mom and the sister. They’re out there, and they’re really scared.”
Zoe nodded, understanding. But she gave me one long look before she left. “Good luck. Be careful out there.”
I didn’t need luck.
I needed help. I needed a partner.
I needed John.
We’d worked together so damn well. Anticipated each other’s moves without having to say a word. We’d rescued countless people—tourists who’d wandered off, skiers who’d broken a limb, a kid who’d gotten separated from his family in a whiteout. We’d saved every single one of them.
And then I couldn’t save him.
I’d missed him every day since. But today I felt his loss even harder. Because I didn’t just miss him—I fucking needed him. I needed backup. Someone who knew what they were doing. Someone I could trust.
The weight of it settled on my shoulders like a physical thing. It was just me. One man against the uncaring elements that had already taken someone I cared about. What if I couldn’t find them? What if I was too late this time, too? What if—
My hands stilled on the pack.
No. I couldn’t think like that. Henry was just a kid. Excited about his new skis, about skiing with his dad. The man was a good dad, a seemingly regular guy who loved his son and wanted to make memories with him.
They were counting on me to find them, and so I would. Somehow.
I grabbed flashlights, checked the batteries. It would be dark soon. The temperature would drop. Hypothermia was a real risk, especially for a kid Henry’s size.
I was zipping up the pack when I heard boots behind me.
“I’m coming with you.”
Kai.
He was dressed for it—heavy jacket, gloves, goggles pushed up on his head. Ready to go.
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. My throat felt tight.
All I knew was that I wasn’t alone anymore. And that the father and son’s odds had just increased.
I tossed a pack to him. “I grabbed flashlights.”
Kai caught it easily, slinging it over his shoulder. He didn’t joke. Didn’t smile. He knew this was serious.
We’d never worked together on ski patrol. But here, finally, was a person whose mind I knew inside and out. My twin. We could work together without having to spell everything out. Without having to explain. We’d been doing it our whole lives.
I’d never felt more grateful for being a twin then at that moment.
“They were last seen on the Cascade Run,” I said, pulling up the mental map in my head. “It’s not difficult, but there are a few spots where you could take a wrong turn if you’re not paying attention. Especially if visibility drops.”
“Weather was clear earlier,” Kai said.
“But it’s getting colder. And it’ll be dark soon.” I checked my watch. “We’ve got maybe forty-five minutes of light left.”
“Then let’s not waste it.”
Kai’s jaw was set, his eyes focused and determined. He wasn’t on the ski patrol, but he’d been out on the slopes his entire life. He knew how small and insignificant we humans were compared to the power of nature.
He got it.
Something in my chest loosened. Just a little.
“Let’s go,” I said.
We headed for the door, our boots echoing on the floor. Staff members parted to let us through. Mrs. Greer was on the phone, probably calling for additional backup from town, but that would take time. Time we didn’t have.
As we passed through the lobby, I caught a glimpse of Emma and her mother on one of the couches. Emma’s face was tear streaked. Her mother had her arm around her, but she looked just as scared.
Zoe was crouched in front of them, talking softly. Trying to reassure them.
She glanced up as we passed, and our eyes met for just a second. There was something in her gaze—worry, yes, but also faith. She believed I could do this.
I hoped like hell she was right.
Outside, the cold hit me like a slap. The sun was already low on the horizon, painting the snow orange and pink. It was deceptively beautiful
Kai and I clicked into our skis with practiced efficiency. No wasted movements. No unnecessary words.
“North ridge?” he asked.
“Yeah. We’ll start there and work our way down. Look for any signs—ski tracks going off trail, broken branches, anything.”
“Got it.”
I adjusted my goggles and looked out at the mountain. Somewhere out there, a father was trying to keep his son warm. Trying to stay calm. Trying to make the right decisions.
I knew that fear. The helplessness of being alone on a mountain when things went wrong.
But they weren’t alone. Not anymore.
We were coming for them.
“Stay close,” I told Kai. “If we get separated—”
“We won’t,” he said firmly.
And I believed him.
For the first time since John died, I wasn’t doing this alone.
We could do this. We would do this.
We had to.