“And we need to do it right now,” Curtis says. “Because that storm’s about to hit.”

CHAPTER 58

TEN YEARS AGO

Every athlete knows the risks of their chosen sport. We take what precautions we can, then tuck the risks away in the backs of our minds and try not to think about them anymore. Thinking about them would affect our performance.

But when I see Odette lying there in her narrow hospital bed, surrounded by machines, with tubes snaking out from under the sheets in all directions, I’m confronted with what half-pipe snowboarding can do to us.

In a split second it has broken a strong and healthy body to the point where it can no longer perform basic functions. Where the arms and legs, despite their rock-solid muscles, can no longer move.

I rode down in the cable car with her. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance, so I jumped in my car and drove down the valley. I’m glad I pulled out of the comp. Otherwise she’d have no one. Her brothers are at a ski race in Austria and the hospital hasn’t been able to get hold of them yet; her parents are driving across from the other side of France, but the heavy snow forecast all over the Alps will delay their arrival.

I look down at her motionless body. Her poor nose is a swollen mess and two black eyes are rapidly developing, but it’s her other injuries, the ones I can’t see, that worry me most.

The doctors think she’s broken her neck.

And all I can think is: I caused this.

—

By the time I leave the hospital, it’s dark outside and snowing hard. So much for spring. It’s a slow drive up the hairpins back to Le Rocher. Halfway up, my tires are sliding about so badly I have to pull over to put snow chains on.

When I finally arrive at my place, cold and wet, I lift my phone from the table and see ten missed calls from Curtis. I’m out of minutes on my phone, so I hurry out again. The cars in the main street are backed up behind a snow plow, engines revving, wipers flapping.

There’s a lone figure in the distance heading the other way. I’d know that walk anywhere. “Brent!” I call.

He doesn’t look around. Because he didn’t hear me? Or because he doesn’t want to talk to me? I can’t tell. I continue down the street, hoping Curtis is still up.

He yanks the door open, breathless. His face falls when he sees me. “Have you seen my sister?”

“No.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“In the hospital with Odette.” My feet are soaked. I stomp the snow off my shoes and follow him inside.

“How is she?” he asks.

Words choke in my throat. “Bad.”