took a bite.
The taste of oats and cherries filled his mouth. Tasted better than anything
he’d forced himself to chew in a really long time.
She passed him another
bar. “How you holding up?”
“Good.” He settled his
attention on her. All geared up with her face protected by dark glasses and a
ski mask. But he knew the line of her jaw by heart…the shape of her soft lips.
Looking at her was far more appealing than the magnificent mountain views all
around them. He hadn’t enjoyed looking at anything other than the finish line
for a long time.
“Let’s leave some of the
stuff we won’t need here,” she suggested. “We can do a pickup on the way back.
The next stretch is tough. Light is better.”
He suffered a twinge of
panic but refused to let it take root. “You’re the boss.”
She laughed as she
shoved aside their crampons and other nonessentials for the next leg of the
trip. The sound of her laughter prompted his determination. He could do it. He tucked his water bottle back into his pack and stood.
“Let’s do this thing.”
The words were strong. It felt good to say them.
A few feet of ice was the first challenge. The going was, as she said, tough.
The ground beneath the snow was ledgy with lots of
loose rock and snow, a ready mix for slides. Handholds were few and far between
and less than optimal. The wind had picked up, whipping with enough force to
steal the best balance. Slow but steady progress finally gained them the
summit.
The eyewear came off
and for long moments they stood there, high atop the valley below and with some
of the most breathtaking mountains on the planet sprawling before them. Snow-covered and grand.
Truly
magnificent.
Molly smiled at him.
“You made it. You conquered the beast.”
He pulled off his
helmet and ski mask. She did the same. The wind sent wisps of hair across her
cheeks; he removed his glove and brushed them away.
“Thank you, Molly
Clark.”
She stared into his
eyes, her own filled with satisfaction. “Don’t thank me, Fewell .
You had it in you all along.”
He kissed her. There
was simply no other way to properly show his gratitude.
Thanks to her undying
spirit and ambitious belief in him, he had conquered the beast.
MOLLY DIDN’T WANT the kiss to
end. But the wind was freezing their faces.
When they drew apart,
they quickly donned their ski masks once more.
Gloves and eyewear in place,
he took the lead. “When we get back to town,” he called back to her, “we’re
celebrating. Dinner, champagne, the works.”
“Sounds
good to me. I’m always hungry.”
They made a slow and
careful descent, burying their ice axes as necessary. Fewell stayed in the lead. Molly was proud of him. Truth was , she’d gotten way too close to this guy in the past forty-eight hours.
And that kiss…well, she
was reasonably sure she had never been kissed quite like that. Definitely not fourteen thousand feet above sea level.
They picked up their
gear on the way down. Once they reached the gentler slopes, they moved a little
faster. Molly was pumped. The day had gone off without a hitch. Surely this
accomplishment would allow Fewell to get a hold on
the panic attacks.
The beginning, she
decided. The beginning of finding his footing in life again.
BACK AT THE SUV, they stripped
off their parkas and the other outer gear no longer needed. He stole another
kiss and Molly let him. She liked the
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