55. Aspen #2
I reach the grand entrance hall and grab Blake’s keys from where he leaves them on a hook near the front door. Then I reach the double doors and grab the handles and pull.
Nothing happens.
The doors are heavy and won’t open. Are they frozen shut or just locked, though I’ve never known them to be locked before?
The door handles are ice cold. The hinges creak and groan as I use the whole of my body weight to pull, announcing my intentions.
It’s as though the hotel is trying to stop me from leaving and is calling out to the men in the house to tell them of my plans.
I feel the weight of a person’s gaze on my back. Certain that someone is behind me, I spin around, but no one is there.
A shiver wracks through my body.
Even while my fingers are around the door handles, my heart aches with a desire for someone to stop me.
I want Blake or Levi or even Dov to tell me to stay, that they need me, that it’s all been a horrible mistake and it’s not what I think.
I’d believed what had been developing between us all had been natural and inevitable, but instead it had been their plan all along.
They’ve drugged me, and manipulated me, and I’ve fallen for it every time simply because I’ve wanted a home and a family so badly.
They’ve broken my heart.
But no one comes after me. Perhaps they think I can’t leave, or that I won’t.
The door gives way, and I yank it open. A flurry of snow and ice-cold air barrels into the entrance hall, snatching the breath from my lungs.
I put my head down and hunch my shoulders and step out into the storm.
It’s daylight, but the heavy cloud blocks out much of the sun, giving the place an eerie vibe.
The blanket of snow changes the acoustics too, so all I can hear is the wind.
It howls past my ears, whipping around the sides of the hotel like it’s a beast all its own.
I run to the Range Rover and open the door.
The snow is falling, and it’s settling fast, which means I don’t have time to hang around.
I need to make it down the pass while I still can.
Even though my heart is breaking and tears spill down my face, I know I can’t lose my head.
I need to focus on the drive until I reach the junction leading to the town.
Once I hit that point, I’ll be safe. Someone in the town will help me.
Will Blake know to look for me there?
It won’t matter if he does. The weather, and lack of a suitable vehicle, will prevent him from coming after me.
I want to believe that’s a good thing, but if I truly believe that, why does it hurt so much? The thought of life without him tears my soul to shreds. How he’ll never hold me in his big, strong arms again, I’ll never get to press my nose to his chest and inhale the scent of him.
I’d thought I loved him.
Love shouldn’t feel like someone is cutting your heart out of your chest. Love should be soft and gentle. Peaceful. This is anything but.
I fire up the ignition and hit the headlights, but they only bounce back at me in the snowfall, and I shut them off again.
I’ll manage. There are markers sticking out of the ground the whole way down the mountain track to guide the position of the road when the snow gets thick.
All I need to do is take it slow, follow them, and pray I don’t skid.
I glance in the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of the hotel through the snowflakes. My gaze automatically goes to the top window in the east wing, and my breath catches. Yes, Dov’s standing there, motionless behind the glass. Watching me go.
I yank my gaze from the rearview mirror and jam my foot on the gas. I’m getting away. Escaping. And I will be okay. I will build myself a life that doesn’t involve crazy men and a haunted hotel.
A normal life. With a nine-to-five job and a regular boyfriend, and maybe even a friend or two.
I try not to let the thought make me drive this damned vehicle off the side of the mountain.
What’s the point of living a life with no passion and no art? I might as well die now and be done with it.
The mountain road curves on a blind bend, and I cling to the steering wheel, trying to fight my own intrusive thought to drive off the road.
The snow is practically sideways now, and it reduces my vision to mere feet.
But I can still see the markers and the side of the mountain, and I focus on staying between the two things.
My muscles are tight, my throat thick with tears, and I blink rapidly to clear my vision.
Someone steps out in front of the car.
I barely have time to scream. A figure, all in white, stands right in the pathway of the vehicle.
I have no choice but to turn the wheel. The tires do their best to cling to the road, but the snow is too new, and I skid. I try to turn into it, but there isn’t space. I hit the markers and fly straight through them.
I completely lose control.
I bump and jolt, and then there’s a moment of weightlessness. I’m flying.
And then I come down with a crash and a screech of metal twisting. My bones shake, my teeth clash together, and I taste blood. My head collides with the driver’s door, and the airbag explodes in my face.
But I’ve come to a halt, and the vehicle is on its side. Something is hissing, and something else creaks.
The windshield is half gone, and icy wind and snow blast through. It hits my eyes and is in my mouth and up my nose.
Fuck.
I’m breathing rapidly, my head spinning.
I feel sick from the pain slicing through my body.
What the hell just happened? I fumble to one side, trying to find the door handle.
My fingers locate it, and I yank and push, trying to get it open, but it doesn’t budge.
It hits me why—the ground is directly beneath the door. There’s no way I’m getting it open.
I’m freezing cold within seconds. Any exposed parts of my skin burn with it. I’m shivering, my teeth chattering.
I try to pull myself out of the driver’s seat, planning to climb across the dash, or even to the passenger side to try to get out of that door, but my leg is wedged in the footwell.
It suddenly occurs to me that I’m in an even more dangerous position than I was back at the hotel.
I tip my head back and scream.