perfect days, you know, where the sky is so cloudless and blue it’s almost as dazzling as the powder. And you’ve got your best form, right? Everything’s going perfectly—’
A deafening crash broke him off. The earth shuddered under Ethan as more of the lodge—close enough for them to feel the whip of air and backdraught—collapsed.
‘Get out, Chase. Go. Before the whole place comes down.’
But instead of retreating, Chase edged closer, holding Ethan’s hand tightly. ‘You’ve got your best form on, right? La Sache. You make three perfect turns. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoo—’
Another crash. Chase’s breathing got faster. ‘Okay. Looks like we’ve got to do something. Fast.’ Chase directed his head torch onto the beam. ‘Right. Let’s try this again.’
Turning tightly in the cramped space, he lifted his knees, pressed his feet against the broken beam and heaved. Heaved some more. ‘Anything? Any movement at all?’
‘No.’ Ethan pushed and tried to wriggle his body free, but every time Chase moved, clumps of dust and ceiling fell around them like confetti.
‘On my count...’ Chase glanced up at the ceiling, such as it was, illuminating it again, and they both saw the whole thing ripple like a wave as he moved. Any minute now the place would come down on top of them, suffocating them. ‘One. Two. Three.’
The beam shifted enough for Ethan to drag one leg free. ‘Yep. Almost.’ Another creak. ‘Go. It’s too dangerous. Leave me here. Get the hell out, I don’t need you on my conscience.’
But Chase shook his head and tightened his hold on the beam. ‘The rents are going to be so relieved when we get you out of here. Can’t wait to see their faces.’
‘My parents are here?’ Ethan knew Chase was trying to distract him from the task in hand, keeping him talking, keeping him alive.
‘Mr Wheeler said he was going to call everyone’s parents. They’re flying them all out here.’
‘Okay. Tell them...’ What to say? He doubted they’d even turn up, but just in case they did Ethan chose his last words to his parents very carefully. ‘Tell them I forgive them.’
‘I’m not passing on any message, you can tell them yourself. And there will be media too. There always are at things like this. You’re going to be famous. The boy who lived, right?’
‘And who are you? Freaking Hermione?’
‘In your dreams, Reid.’
Little falls of dust trickled over them. Outside someone was shouting at everyone to keep still.
‘Ne bouge pas. Attendez! Attendez!’
More French.
He hated French. He hated snow. He hated being trapped. He didn’t want to die.
Panicked voices. A siren. More sirens.
But Chase caught Ethan’s eye. Determination shone there as he nodded. ‘Right, let’s go again. I never thought I’d say this to you but, Ethan, I need you to work with me. Everything you’ve got, okay? Or you and I will die here and that, my man, is not the way I want to go. One. Two. Three.’
Next thing he knew Ethan was being dragged over brickwork and snow and something he didn’t even want to imagine but which felt soft and yet bony. And then he was hauling fresh air into suffocating lungs and watching the place where he’d been two seconds earlier disintegrate into rubble and dust and nothing.
And he breathed, sucking in huge gulps of air.
He breathed.
He was alive. Chase Barrington had saved him.
And that was something he’d never have believed possible.
* * *
Later, as the paramedics worked on him, he watched Chase talk to one of the newly arrived search and rescue guys. Saw the slump of his shoulders. The hand whisked across his eyes. Then his view was obliterated by a sudden convoy of vans. Tearful parents pouring out, screaming and sobbing. He craned his neck for his mother or father.
No.
As he’d imagined. He wondered what he’d have to damned well do to get their attention at all.
Then, as he was being shunted into the ambulance, Ethan saw Chase walk away from a woman, leaving her sobbing into the dark night. Ethan called out, ‘Chase! Chase.’
Chase turned and looked, then he turned away and walked into the darkness.
‘Chase!’
But then he was there. Looming up in front of him as he had in the tight, dark prison a few minutes earlier, but the bravado from before had gone. He had red rings around swollen eyes. A gruff expression. Hell, he was just a seventeen-year-old kid living a nightmare. Like me. ‘Look, Reid, I gotta go.’
Ethan held up his hand to stop the paramedic from closing the ambulance door. ‘And Nick?’
Chase shook his head and his words came out on a sob that he coughed away. ‘He didn’t...make it. That’s his mum. She’s broken. He was her only child.’
The paramedic fiddled with the drip and then said softly, ‘My count was four. I’m so sorry, buddy.’
Four dead? Four of the team? His brothers in sport, if nothing else. Ethan’s heart twisted as his gaze settled back on Chase. ‘But you told me they were safe.’
‘I told you they were out.’ Chase shrugged. Empty. His best friend had been in danger and he’d chosen to save someone else’s life. How would that make you feel? You had a chance and you didn’t take it. You bet on someone else. On the someone you didn’t even like.
‘But you made me think they were alive. I thought they were safe.’
‘You needed something to hang onto.’
And he’d hung on tight. ‘I’m so sorry about Nick. I heard the conversation. I heard you make a choice. No one should ever have to do that.’
‘You were closest.’ Chase’s face clouded, the way it did when they fought. The way it did in their stand-offs. The way it had just a few hours ago when he’d been trying to make Ethan apologise in their stupid argument. Chase’s hands fisted as he wrestled some emotion or other away. His best friend had died and maybe he could have done something to prevent that. God knew how that felt. ‘You’d better be worth it, Reid. Make it worth it.’
Judging by the way Ethan’s parents had treated him to date, and knowing what a great guy Nick had been, Ethan doubted he could ever be worth it. But this was a second chance and he was going to make the best of it. ‘I damned well will. Chase, I owe you my life. Thank you. If you ever need me, anything at all, just find me and I’ll be there for you.’
But the way Chase looked at him told Ethan that he’d never call. And, worse, that he believed he’d made the wrong choice after all.
