Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (23 page)

“Shit,” I hissed beneath my breath.  Still creeping down the slope, I forced myself to inch left.

“Don’t EM! It’s fucking ice over here.”

A wave of nausea swarmed over me. 

“Why wouldn’t they have this blocked off? Closed it? Anything!” I shouted and my chest tightened.

I glanced up at Grant, he had disengaged his board. The altitude had never really gotten to me even with my asthma, but today, I struggled.  He held onto his board as he maneuvered over the rocks. Snowboard boots were not easy.

The sun hadn’t touched the side of the mountain Grant was on. It didn’t make sense.

“There was…” I inhaled. “…a freaking…” breath “…blizzard last night…” Breath. “…this is crazy that….” Breath. “…that there’s no snow…” breath.  “right there!”

Grant stared at me as if I was the one in trouble. 

“
Em. Do you have your inhaler?”

I nodded.

“Get it out, sweetheart.”

To prevent sliding farther down the mountain, I decided to kick off my board. As I did, I realized I was now in the shade, and, when I disengaged my foot, my other foot slid out from under me. The slope was coming toward my face and I landed hard on my arms. 

“Em!”

My breaths were coming quicker and he was right, I needed my inhaler.

“Ryan. Get back up here. We need help.”

Was Ryan here? I stared up at Grant. He was on the phone.  Talking to Ryan?

“Sticks and Stones.”  He grinned.  “Hey, I knew she would.” His smile disappeared.  “Stop, don’t be mad at her.  Listen.  She just lost her board and she’s whistling.”

Was I whistling?  I was whistling.  And my board was gone!  I didn’t remember that happening. 

“Em. I’m coming down.”

After unzipping my front pocket, I searched for my inhaler. 

“Shiiit!”

My head jerked instinctively at the shriek and Grant was falling or sliding feet first.

“Aaahh!” The painful scream echoed off the mountain then suddenly, his scream stopped. His board reached me first and I stopped it.

“GRANT!”

Working my way toward him while holding onto his board was hard.

“Grant…” I panted reaching him and wedged the board horizontally at his feet.

My stomach twisted when he didn’t move.
No! No! This can’t be happening.  Why?
I studied his chest as I got closer. He had on too many layers.  That was a good thing…right?  It would be harder to get hurt.  Too many layers to get through. I dug my boots into the icy snow as I grew closer.  I unzipped my coat trying to relieve the increasing tension in my chest.  It hurt. I hurt. I couldn’t breathe.

Gradually, edging my way up to his face, I lifted his goggles and allowed them to rest on his forehead. His eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted.

“Grant.” My voice broke. No response. “Grant, can you hear me?” I could barely hear myself.  I took off my gloves and raised his head
. Oh shit!
Blood. There was blood on my fingers and on a rock beneath his head.  I was SO wrong. I thought the fresh snow would have been enough to cover the rocks. Why wasn’t the slope closed??

I laid his head down gently on my gloves and foun
d my phone three layers deep. I had only two bars and prayed for reception.  I dialed.

“Where are you?” Ryan demanded angrily. Not even a hello.

“Ryan. We need help. Grant’s hurt.” I started to cry.

“Grant? We are almost off the lift. We called it in, so ski patrol may be there first.”

“ It’s bad….Ryan. When you make the cut…veer as far right on the mountain as you can.”   A wheezy breath interjected itself between words. His phone disconnected. I stuffed mine back into my pocket. I closed my eyes and recalled slowly all the things my dad taught Ryan and me over the years.
Never panic
. TOO LATE! With my eyes still closed, I assessed my surroundings. I could hear people through the trees on Diamondback—laughing and chatting.  I could hear skis and boards wafting through the powder. They were close but they didn’t realize we even existed. I thought about the three climbers on Mt. Hood and how’d they’d never been found. The cold air burned my throat as I inhaled. 

Opening my eyes, I knew I needed to gauge Grant’s injuries. I had a feeling he’d broken something by the pain-wracked scream. I peeked gently into his left glove. His wrist was swollen. Broken bone, possible fractured skull. I shivered at the thought. I rubbed his forehead. He was cold and that frightened me, maybe even clammy, or was I making that up? Cold was beginning to seep through my layers as well and I shivered.

I ran my fingers through his shiny long curls then kissed his forehead. “I am so sorry.”  I wiped my tears and bent over him resting my cheek against his—rubbing them together—creating friction. “Please be OK.” Then I pushed my cheek firmly to his nose trying to keep him warm before moving to the other cheek. I smelled his shampoo or soap or something that smelled good.

“Could you please get your hair out of my mouth?” he spoke in a monotone.

I reared back and gasped. “Grant?” I wailed. “Oh my God. Don’t move.”

He blinked his eyes and stared at me—confused. He didn’t smile.

“Do you know where you are?”

Without moving, he swiveled his eyes in their sockets. Tall evergreens hovered over him. He was on a bed of snow, I hoped something would click. “Mt. Ashland?”

I swallowed. Oh, this was so bad. We were miles from Mt. Ashland.  He raised his head and cried out reaching one hand to his head.

“
Please don’t move.” I warned.  “What’s your name?”

“Grant.” His words were soft.

“Do you know who I am?” My pulse raced as I waited for the answer. I kept glancing up the slope. Was there a friggin closed sign that I didn’t see up there?

“Don’t be stupid, Chloe,” he answered and I’m glad he’d closed his eyes because I couldn’t hide my shock. Chloe had been in Okinawa for twelve months now. It had to have been my voice because I certainly didn’t look like her. She was beautiful.

His left wrist was two times its normal size and was turning purple by the minute. I felt his right hand in my hair and I turned to face him again. “Did that make you mad, babe?” he asked quietly.

Mad? How could I possibly be mad at him right now?  He should be the furious one. “Why would I be mad?”

“That I said don’t be stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m not mad.” He was always so good to her. What I wouldn’t have given to be her a year ago when I’d watch them hug and kiss. My heart broke as I snuck peeks of them. I ached to be in his arms. What a twist of fate.

“Good, then give me a kiss,” he requested tugging my head downward. I took a quick glance up the slope then guiltily, touched my lips to his. His breath was cold and made me shudder as it blew into my lungs. His tongue touched my top lip then withdrew and he closed his lips and pushed me away. The kiss was different than last night.  Better. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. He seemed out of it. Loopy.

Where was everybody?  His eyes closed. I was wiping my bottom lip when finally, I saw them come out of the break. Two ski patrol, pulling their carrier. Relief washed over me. I patted Grant’s shoulder. “They’re here.  You’re going to be OK.”

Suddenly, behind ski patrol, Ryan took the corner followed by Zach then Brett…
crap
…then Connor. My face flushed. Why don’t we bring the whole crew? Now, if anyone else got hurt I would carry that burden too. Great. All five of them maneuvered toward us.

The ski patrol pointed to the right. “Stay—right face,” he yelled back at them and all five stayed right of us and stopped parallel.

“Em, you all right?” Zach hollered. I sat back on my bum, suddenly feeling weak.

“Ma’
am? You OK?”

He confused me. Why was he asking me that?

“Dude,” he shouted toward the guys. “Did they say what happened to her?”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

The guy took my wrist and pressed his two fingers on the underside then spoke into his hand held radio. “Patrol—we have a betty respirations are slow, eyes darkened, lips blue, conscious.”

Suddenly, Ryan was next to me unzipping and rummaging thru my pockets. He rested my head against his shoulder and puffed the inhaler in my mouth. “Breathe it in,
Em.”

“Asthma?” the ski patrol guy questioned.

“Yep. She’ll be ok. Just give her a second.” 

The other ski patrol guy spoke into his hand held radio. “Patrol—we have a bro—down. We will be transporting. Looks like a broken wrist and possible concussion.”

They unrolled a neck brace and wrapped Grant’s neck. As I felt oxygen make its way into my lungs, I wasn’t sure if it was relief that Grant was going to be okay or the inhaler.

“What’s his name?” they asked.

“Grant,” Ryan said. 

“One, two, three,” they said in unison lifting him to the carrier cage. “Transporting.” One guy spoke into his radio again. They weren’t wasting time which was definitely good.

“You OK?” the ski patrol asked.

I nodded.

“You certainly look better,” he smiled and they took off with Grant in tow.

I swiveled back to my five brothers who stared at me. “I don’t care that you can’t breathe right now, I’m pissed at you. You just couldn’t not do it, could you?” Ryan asked bitterly. He moved away from me, re-engaged his board and tossed my inhaler to me.

“How many of us begged you not to take it? AND, I might add, you still did it,” He added.

“Leave her alone, Ryan,” Brett said calmly.

“Yeah Ry. Leave Runt alone,” Connor echoed. “Let’s hit it.”

Ryan turned his board and took off. It was obvious Grant and I had cut the corner too short and ventured into a rougher terrain because where they boarded from, there was no problem.  The guys followed Ryan except for Zach; he waited patiently for me. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask anything. We boarded down slowly in silence.

My hands were frozen by the time we reached the Jeep. I couldn’t remember what happened to the gloves once I slid them beneath Grant’s head. The dizziness from forgetting to use my inhaler still hadn’t subsided.  My thoughts were scattered as well and Zach still wasn’t speaking. He was angry—I think. He was something.  I needed him to hold my hands, to help me get warm. 

The radio played inside the Jeep, thankfully filling the void. I guess it was for the best because, like usual, the mountain roads made me nauseous. Regardless, I didn’t like either feeling.

He pulled in and parked by the entrance of the emergency room at the clinic and my eyes widened.

“Why are we here?” I asked. Ryan’s truck was three stalls away.

Zach stared out the windshield. “Tell me you
don’t
want to be here.”

Couldn’t he have asked a different question? One that I could answer without hurting him. Of course I wanted to check on Grant. Make sure he was OK. I was, after all, the reason he was here!

“I just want to make sure he’s OK.” I feared saying Grant’s name.

He jerked the keys from the ignition and opened his door. I grabbed his arm and held on when his eyes met mine. “Are you angry?” I asked.

“We’ll talk about it later.” His tone was flat.

“Well, you’re something. I can tell.”

He pulled his arm from my grasp. “We’ll talk about it later.” 

Feeling sicker than I did a few minutes ago on the curvy roads, I stepped out of the Jeep too.

The ER was quiet and we were pointed in the direction of the waiting room where we found the crew. Zach slapped hands with a couple of the guys and I plopped down in a chair next to Ali.

“Hey,” I said. “You mad at me too?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “I think Ryan’s kind of mad but not because of Grant. Because he asked you not to do it. How’s Zach?”

“What do you mean?” She knew something.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He was so upset when he got down the mountain. We were all waiting and hanging out.” She was whispering. “Then you and Grant weren’t down yet. Ryan kept telling him that he didn’t need to worry about you but you never came. And neither did Grant.”

I glanced at Zach across the room, next to Ryan, and his head was back against the brick wall with closed eyes. The older girls sat down by the TV but Estelle’s legs were pulled up to her chest and she rested her chin on her knees. She looked worried. What was that about?

“Anyway—then Grant called from the slope and they took off. Zach led the pack sprinting to the lift. You are so lucky. He really likes you.”

Her words were comforting at that moment given he wouldn’t speak to me, or worse, look at me. That was the hardest of all. Usually, I could see him across a room and know what he was thinking by the look in his eyes. But as I watched him now, his lids blocked my access.

I continued to stare at him. His black ski pants rested low on his hips and his Under Armor was tucked neatly in. The thin material lay perfectly over each ripple of his abs. My stomach tingled and my breathing quickened just looking at him.  I shook my head trying to clear the thoughts. His hands were in tight fists resting on his knees. I wanted to go to him and open his hands. Rub his palm on my face. White rings circled his eyes from where his goggles sat and his face was tanner from the wee bit of sun today. He looked relaxed, but I could tell by his jaw line that he was tense.