A scratching sound makes my ears prick. I hold my breath, listening for the source. When I hear it again, I storm to the door and yank it open.
Zelda, covered in snow, shoots past me, barking and yipping, leaving a trail of wet, skittery paw prints on the hardwood floor.
She whines, the sound insistent, panicked. The sinking feeling in my stomach plunges to my boots.
If Zelda was outside, she must have been with Bellamy. If Zelda’s back, and Bellamy’s not…
Fuck.
Terror grips me, the pressure in my chest so tight I can’t breathe.
I grab Zelda’s collar and tug her to me, crouching. “Show me where she is, girl.”
Zelda barks once, then, tail wagging, she yanks free of my hold and blasts through the open door.
With trembling hands, I pull on my jacket and gloves. Then I race out onto the front porch and into the snow.
She doesn’t stop. She’s already so far ahead. I hop on the snowmobile and gun it, catching up quickly.
The wind whips through the trees. Cold air bites at my skin. The air’s white, obscuring my vision. As angry as I am, I’mworried. Scared shitless. This wouldn’t have happened if I had helped her get a goddamn tree.
Now she’s what? Lost in the fucking forest in the dead of winter?
Christ.
I race through the trees, branches snagging at my clothes. With each minute that passes, more snow accumulates. Fear trickles into my gut. My thoughts run wild with regret.
Is she warm enough? Is she still pissed at me? I hope she’s pissed. Hope she went for a walk. Hope she’s wandering up to the cabin now, victorious with her tree. When I see her, I’ll gladly let her slap the ever-lovin’ shit out of me.
I race blindly through the wind and the snow, searching for Bellamy. I won’t stop until I find her.
I shouldn’t have left her. I should have stayed. Fought through it and fought it out.
The whirlwind of grim thoughts silences when Zelda leaps over a snow-covered log and plummets down the side of the steep cliff.
“No!” I shout.
But I go right after her. The snowmobile takes a sharp nosedive, but I lock the track with the brake and ride it down straight.
I stop the snowmobile on a flat spot of packed snow and scan the area. Nearby, evidence of a partial avalanche, the rapid flow of snow down the hillside. A cluster of trees lay on their sides.
Not just trees.
Bellamy.
My heartbeat ceases to exist.
I leap off the snowmobile and race for Zelda. She’s digging beside one of the fir trees, her movements frantic. On my knees beside her, I shove at the evergreen. Through the branches andbristles, a tuft of dark hair and the fuzzy pom of a hat. Terror holds me in its grip.
Please let her be okay. Please.
“Bellamy!” I shout. Adrenaline surges through my veins, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Ignoring the pain, the cold, I push my hands through the prickly tree branches, shoving them enough to expose Bellamy.
The sight of her closed eyes catches me by the throat. “Bell.” I cup her pale face. Fuck. She’s freezing. “Talk to me, sugar. Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter open. “Hank,” she croaks. Her voice, soft, pained, is the only thing holding me together.
