ng to tear me from the side of the mountain. Snow, thick and wet, clung to my eyelashes, making it imposs

ding snow. He wasn't looking at me. His attention was entirely on Sarah, his childhood swe

y voice raw and thin a

had a renowned adventure photographer's face, han

? Can't you

ping pain was beginning to build. I had slipped on a patch of ice not ten minutes

just this morning, clapping me on the shoulder. "She can handle a

ently brushed the snow from her hair, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murm

"Ethan, please," I begged, the words tearing fro

so dramatic, Chloe. You're an architect, not an actress. Sarah is fra

ving way immediately. I cried out as I fell to my knees in the deep snow, the impact jarring my

face-confusion, maybe disbelief. But then Sarah let out a

cing as he stood up and walked toward me. "Don't

verything we'd been through, he thought I would invent a preg

look at my face. He looked past me, back toward the re

arah back. Yo

my fingers numb with cold. "Ethan, I'm telling y

e said, his voice flat a

desperate, primal fear giving me strength, he reached down and pried m

hove

ad hitting the same jagged rock I had tried to use for support. A flash of white-hot pain exploded be

ms, and started the slow, determined trek down the mountain, leaving me bleeding and broken in the heart of the storm. The cold f