Page 29 of Mountain Trial

Luc looked at the table they’d come from, wondering if somebody was putting them up to a joke, but it was just a couple sitting there, aged carbon copies of the teens in front of him.

“They want your autograph,” Kat said gently.

Luc reached out and grabbed the notebook. “Tell me your names.” He took a moment to think, then penned a quick line, signing it with a flourish.

“Merci, Monsieur,” the older girl stammered.

“This happens to you often?”

“Not really,” Luc said. It had, once upon a time. Before his accident, he’d become used to it, had even taken to carrying a permanent pen so he could sign on helmets, mugs, or even casts. But since the accident, nobody had asked for his autograph.

Until tonight.

Maybe the sport is changing.

“What you did up there this afternoon,” she began. “It was amazing.”

He found himself telling her about his dream―that one day adaptive skiing would be a sport in its own right, not a politically correct addition to an abled alpine competition, like it was now. That people with catastrophic injuries, upon coming out of the hospital, would be able to see a future for themselves that made them want to keep going.

“I’d say you’re doing your bit to make that happen,” she said, pointing towards the teens, who were still staring at his handwritten inscription.

“Still a long way to go,” he said, shrugging. “Tell me a bit more about yourself.”

She immediately started speaking about her job―told him stories of the funniest rescues they’d been on, like the case just a week earlier where they’d taken a man off the mountain in his socked feet, after he’d had his boots stolen. Luc laughed, but imagined most of their missions were of a very different nature.

He listened eagerly to everything she said, wanting to learn everything about her.

“What about after work?” he asked.

“After work?” she parroted.

“What do you like do to? What are your hobbies?”

Kat took a sip of her wine. Her voice, when she spoke again, was quiet. “I work out at the gym. I like to ski―but you know this already. I’m also subscribed to a couple flight magazines. I read the new issues as soon as they arrive.”

She sounded almost surprised, as she spoke.

“Maybe I don’t have much of a personal life.”

“You have an important job,” Luc said.

“What about you?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

Luc put his fork down. “I ski. In winter, that’s pretty much all I do, except when I’m working. I’ve been living in Switzerland for the past five years―I took a job as a snow groomer at a small resort, to pay for my equipment and training.”

“Why Switzerland?” she asked. She’d dropped her fork, the pasta carbonara in front of her forgotten.

He had a ready answer to this question―something vague and noncommittal. Instead, he found himself telling her the truth. “Because nobody knew me there. After rehab, I couldn’t bear to go back to a place where everybody else was still snowboarding and I was … tied to this chair.”

Kat pursed her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay. You’re probably wondering how it happened.”

Kat frowned, biting her lower lip. She shook her head quickly. “I’d like you to tell me about it, if it’s something you want to share. But I also have a confession to make―I googled it after our first night together.”

“Kat, we haven’t had a first night together yet,” Luc drawled with more confidence than he really felt.

She laughed, her pupils widened with desire. Luc wanted to leave some cash on the table and get back to his place then and there―but if he’d learned anything over the last six years, it was the value of patience.