Denali Dreams (19 page)

But Jolie’s gaze locked on David. Though he looked like a bomb ready to detonate, there also emanated surprise. Fear.

Wait—fear? In David Whiteeagle? The man born of this mountain?

Yes. Yes, it was fear. Penetrating, terrifying fear. Fists balled, lips tight, and shoulders bunched, he looked like a caged animal. Cornered. Frightened.

He spun around and dove for the tent’s zipper. He yanked it up.

“David—”

Wind and snow barreled into the tent as David shoved himself out into the storm.

“David,” Jolie shouted, but the ravaging elements tore away the sound.

“Leave him.”

“But the storm—”

“He’s been in worse.”

Jolie spun on him. “Why did you do that? What if something happens? What if—”

“He needed it.” Resignation hung miserably on Logan’s face as he retrieved his water bottle. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Panic clutched her in its icy talons. Jolie watched, numb, as Logan zipped the tent closed then dug into one of the packs and drew out two bars. He handed her one.

Jolie drew away.

“He’s changed, for the worse.” Logan sat down, slumped. “We met at a camp when we were ten. He was always intense, drew the girls like flies.” He stared down, seemingly at nothing, then shook his head. “But since Mariah’s death—he’s been unbearable. Everyone’s afraid of crossing him, upsetting him.”

Jolie swallowed, her gaze flitting to the opening, begging David to return.

“He became a ranger to make up for what he didn’t do for Mariah. And now with you in danger, I think all his old defense mechanisms are exploding.” Forlorn, he looked at her. “I know you think I’m horrible for yelling at him like that, but … we’ve tried the nice routes. And I think … I think God’s using this time—
you
—to force David to face something.”

“What?”

“Himself.” Logan balanced the bar on her crossed legs. “Just … don’t think the David you’ve encountered here is the real him. Okay?” He jammed his hands back into his gloves. “And I’m sorry for dragging you into this, but if I’m right, then it was worth it.”

“Right about what?”

“About how you feel about him.”

Jolie refused to look away, even as heat seared her cheeks.

Logan smiled. “Good. Because I haven’t seen him so riled up around anyone else, so I am pretty sure the feelings are mutual.”

David felt the same way about her? Fluttering tickled her belly. Though she loved his intensity, which reminded her of Gael and her father, she wasn’t going to step into a relationship prepped for abuse. She’d seen two friends go through that already. He’d have to do some serious changing.

“I hope you’re right—” Jolie froze. “Not about David’s feelings but that your words help, not hurt him.”

“You and me both. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I was ready to
push
him into a crevasse.” Logan munched his bar for several long minutes.

Jolie watched the tent, strained against the cacophony of wind and snow beating against the nylon tent, burrowed in between ice walls, searching for sounds of David’s return.

“Your crush never ended, did it?”

“He’s bigger than life.”

“Maybe what you feel for him is more than a crush.”

Warily, she eyed Logan.

He shrugged. “By definition, a crush is an infatuation that is usually short lived. Is that how you would describe what you feel for him?”

Jolie fingered the pattern on the water bottle and whispered, “I don’t know what I feel for him.”

“Does it feel like infatuation?”

Maybe as a teen, it’d been that….

“You seem more mature than a girl with an infatuation. And you withstood his taunting and his anger pretty stiffly. I can’t tell you how many girls he’s scared off with that.”

“A lot, huh?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure that’s how he wanted it. But you aren’t scared.”

“I was.” Which was why she’d never come back to Talkeetna, though she dreamed often of seeing him. “He gets under your skin….”

Logan laughed. “That he does.”

“And … I realized today, that his anger—it’s not really anger.”

Logan eyed her.

“It’s grief.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “He and I have that in common.”

Firelike fury fueled his anger. So much that David wondered why the snow around him hadn’t melted. Stuffed above the hastily erected walls that embraced the tent, David sat on his haunches, hard rock pressing into his back. The storm’s whiteout reduced visibility to just a few feet. But over the last few minutes, during lulls in the wind speed, Logan’s laughter catapulted. So did David’s anger. Mad that his friend had pushed him. Mad that his friend had been right. Furious that his friend was in that tent with Jolie right now.

“And if you don’t get over yourself, you’re going to lose her, too.”

How could he lose something he never had?

And yet, the thought wrapped around him like a strait-jacket. Jolie was too good for him. Too rich. Too beautiful. Too sweet. Too … everything.

David held his head and tucked his chin. The thought of being alone, being … Oh, he just couldn’t fight it—
not
having a chance with Jolie suddenly seemed like the worst thing in his world.

While he’d teased her about being spoiled, it was true in a way. She had everything she wanted and needed. He had a job that kept him on his mountain for weeks at a time. What woman in her right mind would accept that?

I’m not good enough, God! I don’t deserve her.

“You didn’t deserve My love either, but I gave it.”

Heady and powerful, the reply warmed David with conviction. How many times had his mother told him love wasn’t earned? It was a gift.

“Kind of jumping ahead here,” David whispered to the wind. Who was talking love? He’d just been measuring the facts of life. She was rich. He wasn’t, not by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t give her the life she was used to.

A life? There he went again, getting the sled before the dogs. He hadn’t even taken her on a date. What if they went out—and there again, was the money thing. No doubt she’d want to go to a steak house or some other expensive place. Living in Talkeetna all his life, he didn’t even like the city. She’d been born and bred in it.

“We’re a bad match, God.” David thudded his head against the rock wall behind him.

“Then why are you out here arguing with Me?”

“You ambushed me,” David said with a laugh. “That wasn’t fair.”

“
True.
“

Okay, that didn’t help except to push his foul mood a meter below the frozen landscape. If he even wanted a chance with Jolie—and he did—then he needed to square some things. Starting with letting go of his little sister.

But how did one do that and still honor her memory? Was letting go the same as not caring?

No, even he didn’t believe that. But it felt that way—that he didn’t care if he wasn’t angry. And honestly, he knew that Mariah would’ve slapped him into next week if she’d been here and had seen how he’d acted. She might’ve been younger and smaller, but that girl had ruled the roost.

Much like Jolie.

He ached, thinking of the pain and hurt he’d inflicted yet again. Which in the heat of the argument had angered him more. Not at her or Logan, which was where he’d aimed his anger, but at himself. For hurting her. She might be feisty and strong, but there was a soft, tender spot in her. And … somehow, in some crazy way, it had his name on it.

She
did
like him. So much that she wanted them to start over. A blank slate, she’d said.

It blew him away that she’d be willing to do that … so they’d have a chance.

What a … sacrifice.

Whoa. God was right.

He imagined God was laughing at that statement. “Sure that was a blinding flash of the obvious to You.”

“So … what will you sacrifice?”

“My anger.”

Was that enough? It was a start, but once he worked that out, once he let go of what was churning up within him, what then?

David sat in the blistering cold, his mind and limbs agitated. He stood and stretched his legs, wishing he could do something about the burning in his mind. But that was the point, right? Sacrifice—never intended to be fun or pain-free.

No pain, no gain.

And going in there, apologizing to Jolie … that was some kind of pain.

Why?

Because … because he would have to admit he was wrong. That he didn’t mind so much. He could man up and own his mistakes. No, what really ate at him … was the fact that she’d seen him at his worst. Been the brunt of his anger. Could she forgive him?

What if he went back in there and she told him to take a flying leap off the Edge of the World?

Only one way to find out …

God, I have no right to ask, but please …

As he worked his way down the small cluster of rocks to the tent, David’s heart rate doubled at the thought of the conversation he had in mind. What would he say? Maybe he should plan something. That way he’d sound intelligent. Around women, he stuck to smart-aleck comments or no comments at all to keep them at a distance. He didn’t want that with Jolie. So, how—

As he rounded the corner, David’s heart backed into his throat.

A dark shape moved near the tent.

B
raving heights and bitter memories, Jolie had trekked into the untamed territory of Alaska’s forbidding mountain—and also into David’s life. The peace she’d come to make wasn’t the peace she’d found. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d found any peace at all.

Having become sick—
poisoned
—she hadn’t reached the summit. Hadn’t conquered what had defeated Gael. And in being sick, she’d encountered yet another forbidding element—David Whiteeagle’s heart.

She wasn’t sure which hurt more.

“How are you feeling?” Logan’s voice rose above the wind tugging on their tent.

Pulled from her thoughts, Jolie searched her body. “I …” She hadn’t felt the urge to retch in hours—not since David had given her his bottle and disappeared. “Better. A lot better, actually.”

Logan nodded. “Good. Keep hydrating.”

Obediently, she took another swig. “Don’t you think we should check on David?”

“If he doesn’t have enough sense to come out of the cold …” He snickered. “I’ll give him ten more minutes.”

“He’s been out there awhile.”

With a smirk, Logan gave another nod. “He’s a ranger, Jolie. And no matter how ticked he is, he won’t get stupid.”

The tent flap zipped up.

Jolie’s heart leapt at the thought of David returning— though she wanted to cram his hurtful words down his throat. “Da—”

Logan lunged at her. “Get down!” He barreled into her.

Face colliding with the nylon tent bottom and the hardened ground beneath, Jolie hauled in a breath.

A crack resounded, distant yet close.

Thud!

Smothering, the tent collapsed, wrapping Jolie and Logan in its cocoon. A weight dropped on them. Wrestling. Writhing.

She peered over her shoulder but saw only orange-and-white material.

“Stay down,” Logan shouted as he pinned her.

Frenetic and hard movements continued. A fight. Another loud pop ensued. A dark color ballooned over the tent, widening slowly and … dripping.

“Blood!” Jolie whispered.

“That way,” Logan said, pointing to a small opening. “Go!”

Wrangling her legs free, Jolie crawled into the raging storm. Wind yanked at her jacket and limbs, her hair loose beneath her hat. They scrambled into the tangle of rocks that had acted as a partial barrier between the tent and the storm. She climbed up and glanced back.

David threw a hard punch into the face of—

Jolie froze.

Aidan Sheppard.

Face contorted in rage, Aidan twisted—and produced a gun. He aimed it at David.

“No!” Jolie’s shout sailed through a lull in the wind.

Aidan jerked. Redirected his aim.

Directly at her.

Her pulse shallowed out. Her legs grew leaden.

Something pushed at her.

But all she could see, all that impacted her, was the guy she had almost considered a brother.

Behind him, a flash of movement, David dove at him, arms wrapping around Aidan and shoving him into the snow.

They wrestled again. Threw punches.

Jolie couldn’t watch. Blood marred the pristine white snow. “He’s going to kill him.”

“Stay here.” Logan worked his way back to them, leaving her alone.

How had Aidan gotten away from the others? What about Derrick and James?

In the fight, Aidan broke free. Amid the tent, the broken ice chunks and debris, Jolie searched for David and Logan. The tent writhed, with them in it.

Aidan! Where’d he go? She scooted down a half-dozen feet, searching the rugged outcropping. “Aidan!” He wasn’t going to get away with this, with trying to kill her. A realization shoved her forward. He killed her father! “Aidan!” No, he would not.

She rounded a bend and stopped short. Pulled back to use the rock face as a shield.

Skis on, Aidan stood smiling at her down the barrel of his gun. “You nearly got away.”