Page 76 of Head Over Skis

‘I should call my mum.’

Our conversation from this morning comes back to me, and I know that if I really am going to try and make a change in my life, I need to talk to her first.

But at the same time as I pull my phone out of my pocket to dial her number, it starts to vibrate in my hand. I flip it over and Meghan’s name flashes in the middle of the screen. I swipe across to accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.

‘Hey, everything okay?’

‘Thank god you picked up,’ she says, her voice breathless on the other side.

‘What’s going on?’ Adam whispers across from me as I wait for Meghan’s reply.

‘We’re all here at the hospital. Penny’s had an accident.’

24

In a blur, Adam and I burst through the double doors of Hôpital Saint-Maris.

I make a beeline for the reception desk, my heart beating heavily in my chest. It’s been pounding like this since we left the bar. We had to get the chairlift down to the chalet where Adam picked up the car. It was the fastest way, but I felt every second of the sprint to the ski lift, the journey down the slope and then the drive here along treacherously icy roads.

The only thing we stopped for was to change into normal shoes. I didn’t realise until we parked up that I was still wearing my helmet.

‘I’m here for Penny…’ I trail off, realising I don’t know her surname.

I’ve only known her as Penny. My outspoken, no-filter, mother-like figure on the slopes every day. I don’t even know the full extent of what happened, only that Tilly and Meghan were grabbing food in a restaurant nearby when they saw mountain rescue speeding past them with a loaded stretcher, a speechless Bill following behind them.

‘Pardon? Qu’est que vous avez dit?’

‘Uh…’ I look over at Adam, hoping he can help me out, but he shrugs, knowing even less French than I do. ‘Je veux, um, to see une femme, called Penny?’

I try and string together a sentence using the only French I can remember from my GCSEs, which earns me nothing but a grunt from the woman behind the desk even though I have a feeling she knows exactly what I’m asking. She keeps saying things at me in French, getting increasingly frustrated when I say nothing back.

I look around frantically for someone else who could help or translate for me, really wishing Rory was here right now. Thankfully another woman in scrubs comes behind the desk and notices my panicking.

‘Excusez-moi, madame, can I help you?’

‘Thank god, yes please.’

I repeat my question, and thankfully she’s much more willing to help than her colleague, who is still giving me the side-eye from the other side of the desk.

It turns out Penny’s first name is enough for the lady to direct me to the correct room on the wing.

‘She’s been checked over and should be able to take visitors now. She’s quite popular,’ she says with a reassuring smile, and I take my first proper breath since I picked up the phone.

‘Thank you,’ I say, a hand pressed against my racing heartbeat, and I resist the urge to run towards the room she’s pointed to.

I count the numbers on the doors, turning a corner expecting to find the right room when instead I smash into a hard chest. I stumble back a step before righting myself with the help of the stranger, whose hands grasp my shoulders to keep me from falling. When I look up, it’s a familiar face staring down at me.

Messy hair that looks like he’s been raking his hands through it repeatedly, a wild and worried look in his eyes that I know is reflected in mine. He doesn’t let me go until his gaze shifts behind me, taking in Adam as he also turns into the same corridor.

Rory’s expression shifts as he looks between us both, jaw tightening. But I don’t have time for whatever he thinks is going on with me and Adam, or what happened this morning in the hotel. There are more important things to talk about right now.

‘What happened? Is she okay?’

Rory pauses, and my heart leaps into my throat.

‘She’s stable, and she’s awake. She’s had an ultrasound on her shoulder and she’s torn her rotator cuff, and we’re waiting to hear back on a potential ACL tear in her left knee too. She fell and landed on her shoulder then twisted whilst going down one of the red runs I’d suggested.’ He pauses, his head tilted up to the ceiling as he squeezes his eyes closed. He still hasn’t taken his hands off my shoulders, and I reach up to squeeze his wrists.

‘It’s okay, it’s not your fault.’