“I’m sorry, Ellie. I dumped my shit on you again.”

It hurt Ellie to see him in so much pain. “Please don’t apologize. I don’t think of it that way at all.”

She’d watched him slip away, watched one emotion chase the next across his face—shock, terror, desperation, anguish. She’d realized right away that he was having some kind of flashback. What he’d described would have been enough to leave anyone traumatized, the desolation he felt coming through in every word as he’d described Christine’s death.

“I’m not a therapist, but I’ve had some psych training. It’s not hard to connect the dots here. Three times you tried to save a woman—or girl—and three times you couldn’t, despite doing everything in your power. You watched your mother take punches for you. It would be the most natural thing in the world for a child to believe that it was his fault. You tried to save Kayla Fisher, too, but the water was too strong. You tried your best to save Christine but couldn’t. You’re carrying a lot of guilt that doesn’t belong to you, and I’m willing to be that most of it goes back to your parents.”

It made Ellie want to cry, but she didn’t. For his sake, she couldn’t.

“It was my job to keep Christine safe.”

“Was it your job to keep your mother safe? Or was it her job to keep you safe? She wasn’t a child, Jesse. You were.”

She watched his face and knew he was listening, his brow furrowed as if he were thinking over what she’d said. She gave him a moment to sit with that. “How old were you when that man started beating you?”

“I don’t know—three or four.”

“Daniel is going to be three soon. Would you expect him to be able to defend me if an adult man started beating me?”

Jesse stared at her as if she were crazy. “Of course not. He’s too little.”

“You were too little, too.”

Something in his expression changed, and she knew she was reaching him.

“Think of Emily, Nate’s little girl. She’s eight. Would you expect her to protect Megan? No? Then how can you expect that of little Jesse?”

When he said nothing, she went on. “As for Kayla—you tried. You did everything you could do. You went above and beyond, risking your life. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t reach her. You shouldn’t have gone into the water in the first place.”

The furrow on his brow deepened.

“While it might have been your job to protect Christine, you were ambushed in a war zone. The fact that any of you got out alive…” Dan had been there. Dan had seen all of this happen. It had been part of the life he hadn’t been able to share with her. “They wouldn’t have given you a medal if they’d thought you’d failed in your duty. You hold yourself to an impossible standard.”

“She died a terrible death.”

“It would have been a lot worse without you. In an impossible situation, you gave her reassurance. She was suffering, and you dulled her pain. She was scared, and you held her. She drifted into unconsciousness knowing she wasn’t alone.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Somehow, you buried her death in your mind, and the Fisher girl’s drowning dug it up again.” No, it wasn’t only Kayla. He’d had the flashback when he’d been telling her about Dan. “Her death—and talking about Dan.”

Because Dan was the pilot that day.

Regret cut at her, made her wish she’d waited or had never asked.

And then it struck her.

Maybe this was why he hadn’t told her about Dan. Maybe some part of him had been guarding this terrible memory, doing all it could to keep it from rising to the surface again where it could tear him apart.

Now he sat beside her, silent, his eyes closed. He was no longer shaking, but he wasn’t relaxed either, tension rolling off him in waves. Any minute now, he would explode, taking shelter in rage. He wouldn’t take it out on her. He would do what he always did, what his parents had done—he would take his anger out on himself.

“You don’t need this bullshit in your life, Ellie.” He drew his hand away, got to his feet, rage simmering beneath his skin. “You didn’t sign on for this shit show.”

She stood, too. “I’m not afraid of what you’re feeling. I’m not afraid of who you are or what you’ve seen or what you’ve had to do to survive.”

He glared down at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“What scares me…” Tears. Damn it! “What scares me is what you’re going to do in the next couple of hours, what you’re going to do tomorrow.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, and then his gaze went soft. “I made you a promise, Ellie. I won’t break it.”

“Stay with me, Jesse. Please. Stay with me tonight.” She touched a hand to his chest, felt his heart pounding beneath his sweater.

He rested his hand on hers, and for a moment she thought he meant to pry her hand away. “Why do you want me in your life?”

“Why don’t you want me to care about you?” She raised herself onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his.

One strong arm slid around her rib cage, drawing her closer, his hand splayed against her back. “I didn’t say that.”

Then he bent down, his mouth claiming hers, all of the emotion he’d been holding back channeled into this kiss.

It was rough, almost violent. It was wonderful.

Her fingers slid into his hair, her tongue seeking his, answering his aggression with her own fierce demands, fear for him transforming into lust.

They fell together onto her bed, his hands reaching for her zipper, jerking her jeans down her thighs while she reached for a condom. She waited while he yanked open his fly then rolled the condom over his thick erection. And then he was inside her, driving hard, the friction making them both come hard and fast, giving them release.

They lay together afterward, holding each other, heartbeats slowing.

“I care about you, Ellie, more than I thought I could care about anyone. I care about Daniel and Daisy, too. But I don’t have it in me to be the man you need, the man you and the twins deserve. For your sake, I don’t think we should make this relationship out to be more than it is.”

Ellie closed her eyes to keep back the tears.

* * *

It was a bright, sunny Saturday on the slopes. The parking lot was packed, the lift lines long, the lodge crowded. Every patroller was busy, one call after another coming in. A collision with injuries between a twelve-year-old skier and a snowboarder. An injury accident on Snow in Summer. A drunk man trying to grope women in the lift line. A broken wrist at the terrain park. A guy who got stuck in the lift chair when his backpack got wedged between the slats.

It felt surreal to Jesse to be skiing through a winter landscape of happy, smiling people when his mind was stuck in the hot sand of Iraq. All day, the memory replayed itself in his mind. The sudden onslaught of AK fire and the explosion. Fighting to save Christine’s life. The headlong run toward Crash’s Black Hawk.

But Ellie’s words were there, too, and he held onto them with everything he had.

She was suffering, and you dulled her pain. She was scared, and you held her. She drifted into unconsciousness knowing she wasn’t alone.

He’d tried to warn Ellie last night, done his best to define their relationship so that she would understand he had nothing more to give. Even so, she had kept in touch with him all day, sending text messages.

He’d replied with a photo of himself drinking coffee.

She’d texted again.

He’d replied with a photo of Indian Peaks from the ski lift.

Around noon, she’d forwarded a photo her mother had taken of the twins eating French fries with ketchup on their little faces.

That made him smile.

Ellie was worried about him, and this was her way of checking on him. He ought to find it cloying or irritating, but he didn’t. Knowing she was there when he got off work, knowing that she cared, made all the difference.

What had he done to deserve her?

You’d best hope she doesn’t ask herself that question.

He’d made an appointment with Esri after work. She kept some Saturday hours for her clients who worked during the week, and although her schedule was full, she’d agreed to set aside fifty minutes for him when he told her what had happened.

He headed straight to her office from the slopes and found her waiting for him. He got settled in the seat across from her and found himself fighting for words, mind and body revolting against the memories in his head. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“You’re right. It won’t be. But I think it will be worth it in the end.”

He told her what had happened at Ellie’s house, told her about Christine’s death, then shared with her what Ellie had said, how she’d linked his mother, the little Fisher girl, and Christine together.

“Ellie’s pretty smart. She’s got some psychology training as a nurse, I’m sure. And you know what? I think she’s right. This is why I wanted to talk about the impact that saving a life has on you. You seem to live for it, almost as if—”

“It makes up for the people I couldn’t save.” He understood now.

“Exactly.” Esri leaned toward him. “Jesse, you are no longer that little boy who couldn’t help his mom. You’re no longer that helpless child. You’re a grown man, and you’ve done more in your life to help people than most of us.”

Her words made his throat tight, but fuck if he was going to cry in front of her. “Am I crazy?”

“First, no, you’re not crazy. From where I’m sitting, you’re completely normal for someone dealing with post-traumatic stress. In fact, you’re in a better position than many. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“You’re motivated to deal with it, to face it. A lot of people spend their lives running away.”

“But how could I have forgotten her? How could I have forgotten Christine? I cared about her. She died in my arms.”

“The mind works overtime to shelter us from trauma. Think of it this way: Your mind locked that memory away until it felt you were safe, until it felt you could handle facing your feelings about what happened that day.”

“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?” She’d come into his life, and everything had changed.

“What do you think?”

“I hate it when you do that.” He took a breath, tried not to get pissed off. “I think I’m in love with her, and it scares the shit out of me. So how could I be feeling safe?”

This made Esri smile. “You’re talking about two different things. For you to love her, I would think you trust her.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“Trust can make a person feel safe, especially if they come from a background of abuse, like you do. As for love—that can come with feelings of vulnerability. We’re suddenly in a place where we can be hurt by another person.”

But that’s not what scared Jesse. “I’m not afraid for myself. I don’t want to hurt her—or the kids.”

Esri nodded. “Have you ever hit or shoved or threatened a woman?”

“No.”

“How about a child or an animal?”

“God, no.” He saw where she was going with this. “Some part of me is afraid that I’ll be like my dad, that he’s hiding inside me somewhere, that I’ll settle down with someone I love—and then destroy everything.”

“The fact that you haven’t demonstrated abusive behavior is a good indicator that you won’t head down that path in the future. We can talk about that more at our next session.”

He glanced at the clock, surprised to see that fifty minutes had gone by already.

“Jesse, I’m going to suggest something. Why don’t we schedule a regular, weekly appointment rather than doing this ad hoc crisis-management thing? That way, you’ll know you’re going to see me, and we can focus on treating your PTSD.”

“Okay.”

“Read through these when you get a chance.” She gave him a couple of flyers about PTSD, then made an appointment with him for Wednesday morning.

“I can’t believe you’re still not charging me.”

“Karma.” She turned out her office light. “You save people, remember?”

* * *

The next two weeks passed quickly, Ellie busy with the twins, work, and the final details for the first-aid tent. One of her volunteers—a firefighter—came down with mono, so she’d had to replace her. She’d also tracked down phone numbers—the names and numbers of the staff members in charge of delivering the supplies, as well as the contact information for the person with the Town of Scarlet who oversaw hooking up the tent with electricity. She didn’t want to get stuck at seven in the morning in the freezing cold with a problem she couldn’t solve and no idea whom to contact.

But although her days were busy, she couldn’t stop worrying about Jesse. He seemed to be okay. He wasn’t drinking as far as she could tell—and she had a pretty good nose for that sort of thing. He came over almost every evening, sometimes early enough to play with the kids before bedtime. One night, he’d brought his lasagna, which had been every bit as delicious as he’d said it would be.

Their sex life had gotten even better—if such a thing were possible. He knew how to make her scream, how to make her come fast and hard, or how to draw it out until she thought the pleasure would kill her. But he never slept with her. When it was over, he would hold her for a while, then kiss her goodbye, and leave her to sleep alone. There was a barrier between them now, and Ellie couldn’t seem to breach it.

I don’t think we should make this relationship out to be more than it is.

He’d said it that terrible night when he’d had the flashback. For whatever reason, he still seemed to believe that keeping his distance was better for her. She hadn’t brought it up—not yet. She wanted to give him time, give him a chance to sort through all of this himself. He was seeing Esri, which was good.

Still, she couldn’t let this go on forever. She loved him. Somehow, she’d fallen in love with Jesse Moretti, and there was nothing he could do about that.

* * *

The Friday morning of SnowFest, Ellie got up at five just like she would on any regular work day. She showered and dressed in layers—polypro long underwear and turtleneck under her blue scrub pants and snowflake scrub shirt. Then she bundled the kids up and dropped them off at her parents’ house and drove the short distance to the SnowFest grounds.

The sun hadn’t yet risen, but Ellie could see that Scarlet Springs had been transformed. First and Second streets were lined with booths and stalls. Merchants, artists, and restaurateurs from Scarlet Springs, Boulder, and the surrounding mountain towns bustled about, getting ready to sell their wares to the thousands of people who flocked to Scarlet for the festival. Stalls and tents adorned with white fairy lights stretched all the way to the reservoir, electric lanterns that looked like old-fashioned miners’ lights hanging above the walkways. Crews had plowed the snow away and laid wooden walkways to keep people dry and minimize the mud. Trucks stood on the periphery of the event like circled wagons, people pushing dollies up and down their ramps, working in the darkness and frigid cold to be ready for the public by eight.

Ellie parked and walked through the cold in search of the first-aid tent. Thank goodness she’d dressed warmly because it was freaking cold. She found the tent standing close to the reservoir where the polar bear plunge would take place. That made sense, given that some of her first patients would inevitably come from that event. The fire department had already cut a hole in the ice, marking it with tape and orange cones so that no one would fall in.

Larger than the other tents, the first-aid tent was made of heavy, insulated green fabric, a white cross on both sides, a banner running across the top that said “FIRST AID” in big white letters. Ellie opened the flap to find the tent cold and dark. A row of light bulbs hung from the ceiling. She reached up and tugged on a pull chain, and light filled the space. She might not have heat yet, but at least she could see.

There were two rooms—the larger front room and a smaller back room that would serve as the warm-up room. The supplies that Megs and the other Team members had helped her inventory sat on their pallets still wrapped in plastic. The oxygen equipment, blankets, and AEDs were there, too, along with cots, two folding tables, and an aluminum shelving unit.

She was supposed to have all of this set up in an hour and a half.

The only way to get it done was to start, so Ellie got busy and was soon joined by Lolly, who had brought her a latte. “Oh, God, you are an angel.”

Lolly fluttered her lashes. “I know.”

Gus, one of the hospital’s pharmacists, showed up ten minutes later. “Sorry. I slept through my alarm.”

They worked together in the cold to set up tables and the shelving unit, where most of the supplies would go. Then they set up two cots, covering the canvas with cotton sheets and placing folded blankets at the bottom. The back room—the warm-up room—was smaller. They managed to fit the oxygen equipment, IV poles and two cots back there, too, as well as the blanket warmer. They were unpacking supplies when a woman walked in wearing a hard hat, a tool belt around her waist.

“I’m with the Town of Scarlet. I’m here to make sure all your equipment is hooked up to electricity and running.”

Ellie, Lolly, and Gus waited outside while the woman went to work, taping electrical cords out of the way and running them beneath the wood floor out the back. In ten minutes everything was operational, from the infrared space heaters that sat in the corners to the blanket warmer in the back.

Ellie bent over one of the space heaters to warm her hands. “Ahhh.”

Now it was just a matter of getting all the supplies on the pallets opened and set out in a functional way. They were almost done when they got their first patient.

“You got a minute?” A man in a hardhat stood near the entrance holding his hand in a blood-soaked handkerchief. “I ran a drill bit through my own damned hand.”