“Falling could happen either way,” Isaac said. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together, ok kiddo?”
I nodded. My feet were numb from standing in the tree.
“Can you feel the bench beneath you? What about the snow under your feet? Try to wiggle your toes. I’m going to unclip your skis, ok? You might feel some light pressure on top of your boots.”
“How do I know if it’s safe to jump?” I asked, my voice trembling.
My big brother stood below the tree, arms outstretched. “I guess you have to decide whether you’d rather do it alone, or if you trust me to catch you.”
I took a ragged breath and looked at the tree limbs — too many to count, too scary to go it alone. I met Isaac’s steady gaze, his hazel eyes locked on mine.
“I got you, buddy,” he said, taking two steps back. When he nodded, I leaped.
“I’m here, darling. It’s Alex. You’re not alone. Nothing bad is happening.”
Landing in Isaac’s outstretched arms, he dropped to the ground and took the brunt of my weight. After we both took rough breaths, Isaac transferred me gently into the grass and brushed a stray leaf off my face.
“Can you open your eyes? It might be a little bright, because the sun —”
My eyelids flickered open. My lung expanded with a giant breath of cold, crisp air. The stunning snow was blinding, but a few blinks revealed concerned blue eyes with long dark lashes.
His scowling mouth tilted up. “Welcome back, darling, I’m your —”
“Alex,” I breathed, burying my head in his neck. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here,” he said, his hands running circles over my back.
I took four steadying breaths, timing my inhales to his heartbeat. We were on a heated bench. In the distance a ski lift carried passengers up the mountain.
“I’ve been here before,” I said in a daze.
“You came here last year,” he said, “with my dad. I mean, um, Bruce.”
For a flash, I saw Bruce’s face overlaid on Alex’s, sitting with me on this bench: same lopsided smile, more silver hair, deeper laugh lines.
Alex tugged each finger to slide off his glove, then brushed my tears away with his thumb. He rifled around his ski jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a granola bar, tearing open the wrapper. Layers of memories peeled back into the present. He sat with me, his arm behind me on the bench as the ski lift rose.
After six groups ascended, I told Alex about my memory: Elijah’s hawk, Levi’s teasing, Isaac's rescue. He put the crumpled wrapper in his pocket and said quietly, “I think I’d like Isaac.”
My chest constricted at a vision of them meeting in my parents’ kitchen: both protective and scowling before slowly warming up.
I spoke around the lump in my throat. “I think he’d like you.”
“Do you want to go home to the cabin?” he asked. “We can go in the hot tub if you’re up to it. I’m sure Mom would make hot chocolate, and Kate could spike it.”
I saw two paths in front of me, as clear as the trail map signs.
One: I could climb down. I could be safe and guard my heart like Mallory suggested. I could let fear make the decision, a gazelle escaping a perceived threat.
Or two: I could take the lift back up, press off, and careen down the precipice, even when I knew the end would come too quickly.
Whether I climbed down or jumped, I might fall and get hurt.
But at least for today, I knew who would be waiting at the bottom.
We skied for hours. Sometimes I went first and he’d try to catch up. Most times I followed in his path, maneuvering through the twists and turns, pushing my limits to feel the exhilarating rush of wind against my face.
After several runs, the adrenaline caught up to me and I couldn’t resist any longer. I was tired of holding back. Tired of trying to guard my heart. Tired of worrying about what would happen when he got on that plane in five days. I knew I was careening headfirst into heartbreak, and yet, I couldn’t prevent myself from falling.
At the bottom of the trail he waited, chest heaving and face flushed. When he saw me turn the corner, he lifted his ski goggles to rest on his helmet as his eyes crinkled. I did the same, pulling my balaclava ski mask from my mouth to rest on my neck.
Gliding towards him, I tugged down his mask, seized the front of his coat with my gloved hands and pulled his mouth to mine, letting my heart lead, pouring my decision into actions that I refused to articulate.
His lips were cold and tight with surprise, but they yielded as I pressed myself against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. His mouth was sweet and inviting, a tantalizing blend of mint and desire. The rapid thumping of his heart reverberated through the layers of our jackets.
“Ok, I’m in,” I whispered, pulling back to see his reaction. “I’ll take whatever time you can give me.”
A slow smile started in Alexander’s eyes, gradually spreading across his face like the sun breaking through the clouds. It illuminated every corner, mirroring the radiant snow-covered mountain. I froze, captivated by the dazzling whiteness of his teeth, reflecting off the pristine snow, almost blinding in its intensity. His usual smirks and grins paled in comparison to the brilliance that lit up his face.
A smile. A real smile, without any smugness or restraint.
I thought the crooked grin was sexy, but this left it in the dust.
Until it was replaced by confusion.
“What?” he asked, masking his discomfort at my awestruck expression by wiping a hand under his nose. “Do I have snot on my face or something?”
