Chapter 7
7
J ake Carrington squinted against the sun glaring off the snow, the cold air biting at his face even through the scarf wrapped around his neck. The snowmobile thrummed beneath him, a reliable hum that steadied his nerves as he maneuvered up the mountain. Every shift of the terrain under the snow—a slight give, a groan of pressure—sent his heart pounding. He was hyper-aware of the avalanche risk. Still, he pressed on, scanning the endless white expanse for any sign of Capri.
She’d ignored the warnings. That was Capri for you. Feisty, determined, a streak of stubbornness that had both exasperated and charmed him during the months they’d worked together to rebuild her mother’s house. He’d admired her fire then, even when it was directed at him, but now it had gotten her into trouble. The thrill-seekers she’d followed up here were oblivious to the mountain’s danger, and now she was missing. Jake’s gut twisted. He had to find her. The thought of her buried under the snow was unbearable.
The snowmobile skidded as he crested a ridge. He eased off the throttle, scanning the area. His eyes caught movement—or what he thought was movement—near a cluster of rocks with pine branches sticking awkwardly out of the snow. Hope surged through him. He stopped the snowmobile, his boots crunching as he jumped off. Digging with his gloved hands, he clawed at the snow. But all he unearthed were shattered tree limbs.
“Damn it!” he muttered, his breath puffing in the icy air. He slammed his gloves against his thighs, his despair mounting.
Capri wasn’t just any woman—she was becoming everything to him. He often caught himself watching her with quiet admiration. He often found himself studying her as she laughed with her friends, marveling at the way her smile lit up the entire room, like she carried her own sunshine. It wasn’t just her beauty—though that alone could undo him—but the fierce determination she wore like armor and the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide beneath it.
The depth of his feelings startled him, tightening his chest at the mere thought of losing her.
He couldn’t give up. He had to find her.
Climbing back onto the snowmobile, his hand hovered over the ignition switch. Then he heard it. A faint sound carried on the icy wind. He froze, straining to listen. Was it his imagination? He held his breath until it came again—a muffled noise, barely discernible. Could it be her?
Revving the snowmobile, he followed the sound to the edge of a pine tree grove, its branches broken like toothpicks. Among the littered landscape, fragments of a snowmobile glittered among the snow. His chest tightened as he spotted a helmet wedged in the branches of a tree.
Capri’s helmet.
Relief and fear surged in equal measure as he abandoned his snowmobile and sprinted toward the tree, his boots sinking deep into the snow.
“Capri!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He didn’t even realize tears were streaming down his face until he wiped his cheek and felt the wetness.
Silence answered him at first. Then, faint and weak, her voice drifted from the other side of the rock cropping. “Jake?”
His heart leapt. “Capri! I’m coming!” He scrambled over the rock, slipping on the ice but refusing to slow down. When he rounded the corner, he spotted her, half-buried in the snow but alive. Her face was pale, a scrape visible on her cheek, but her eyes were open and locked on him.
“Jake,” she murmured, tears pooling in her eyes. “You found me.”
He dropped to his knees beside her, brushing the snow off her jacket. “Of course I found you. You scared the hell out of me, Capri.” He quickly scanned her torso, concern mapping his expression.
A weak laugh escaped her lips. “I thought I’d…never see you again.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice thick. “Don’t you ever say that.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for his hand. “I…I was so stupid. I didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, you were,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite the situation. “But that’s you. Always pushing boundaries. And you know what? It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Her eyes widened. “Love?”
He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing the scrape on her cheek. “Yeah, Capri. I love you. And I’ll say it a hundred more times once we get you out of here.”
Tears spilled from her eyes as she whispered, “I love you, too.”
The admission filled him with a warmth that cut through the cold. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “We’re going to get you out of here. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“My leg,” she admitted, wincing as she shifted slightly. “It’s pinned.”
“Okay,” he said, his voice steady. He pulled the radio from his parka jacket. “I’ve found her, Bodhi,” he said, his voice firm despite the tears still streaming down his face. “I need backup. She’s alive but injured. We’re near the rock cropping on the south ridge.”
“Copy that,” came the response. “Hang tight. Help is on the way.”
Jake put the radio down and squeezed Capri’s hand. “Help is coming. You just hold on for me, okay?”
She nodded weakly. “I’ll hold on, Jake. I promise.”
Ten minutes later, a helicopter hovered above, its blades slicing through the icy mountain air with a deafening roar that drowned out the frantic calls of the rescue team inside. Snow whipped around them in a blinding frenzy, stinging Jake’s face and mixing with the sharp scent of pine and exhaust. He stood at the edge of the slope, his heart pounding as he watched the rescue basket lower toward Capri. She lay still, her face pale against the stark white snow, her leg bent at an unnatural angle.
“Eight of the nine missing have been located,” a rescue worker shouted over the din, his voice barely cutting through the thunder of the rotors. Jake nodded, a flicker of relief mixed with the gnawing dread that refused to release its grip. He was thankful, but Capri’s condition still consumed him.
As the basket rose, swaying precariously in the gusts, Jake reached up to steady it, his hands trembling against the metal. He followed the team who were now on the ground to his abandoned snowmobile, then turned to wave down the group now cresting the ridge. His hand signaled he was leaving the vehicle behind, but his mind remained on Capri.
Jake climbed aboard the helicopter, the vibrations coursing through him as the door slammed shut. He reached for her hand, cold and limp in his own, and gripped it tightly as if sheer willpower could hold her together. The sound of the rotors filled the cramped cabin, and the faint, sterile smell of the medical supplies was a stark contrast to the wilderness they were leaving behind.
The rescuers moved swiftly, their voices clipped and efficient as they worked to stabilize Capri in the narrow cabin. An oxygen mask was secured over her face, and a medic adjusted the straps on the splint that now encased her broken leg. Jake shifted out of the way as they worked, his heart hammering with every grim exchange of words between the team.
The helicopter’s rotors thundered in his ears as the aircraft lifted from the ground. When one of the medics paused to check equipment, Jake bent forward, brushing a tender kiss against her forehead. The warmth of her skin, though faint, sent a surge of determination through him.
“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “And I’m not leaving your side. Not now, not ever.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I?—”
“Shh. Everything’s going to be okay,” he promised.
As the helicopter tilted and banked in the direction of Jackson and the hospital, Jake tightened his grip on her hand. The chaos around him faded, leaving only the resolute promise that he would see her through this—no matter what.