Buried Alive Read online

  But Hannah wasn’t the girl who left.

  “The girl who disappeared nine years ago, Brennley Evans, as she went by back then,” the woman reporter’s voice drilled into my ear, “has been going under the name Hannah Jennings, living in San Diego, with her grandmother, Caroline Jennings. Her father, Colm, a world-renowned chef here at the Whistler Lodge, and her mother, Patrice Evans, the manager at the hotel, continue to live and work here.”

  My head jerked to the TV, pictures of Brennley’s parents up on the screen. I hardly remembered them from my visit here, but seeing another connection I missed stoked at the fire inside like poking a hornet’s nest. I’ll just say my father is kind of a food connoisseur. She laced subtle truths in the huge lie she kept from me. Anger hummed over my shoulders, vibrating my muscles.

  Jesus, even the scars I had trailed with my tongue…an accident from when I was a kid.

  “What brought her back here after so long?” The reporter’s mouth pressed together as if she held back a juicy secret. “There is an alleged romance between Brennley Evans and Rhys Axton, the younger brother of legendary snowboarder, Jonah Axton, her ex-boyfriend.”

  Rage bashed against my ribs, knocking me off the cliff. I couldn’t hear any more. Swiping a vase off the coffee table, I chucked it at the screen. Glass exploded across the display, shredding the woman’s face as the monitor cracked, splintering trails out toward the edges.

  How did I not see the blonde girl under the raven-haired woman? I was here for only a few days one Christmas. Ten years ago. But I remembered her. She ran the course when I walked up to greet my brother, her golden hair flying behind her helmet as she curved and spun down the pipe, flipping in the air and winding through the snow as though she had been made to do it. Her mouth was set with determination. Fearless. I watched her in awe, having never seen anyone who snowboarded in the same way as her.

  She reached the end, chunks of snow fanning off her board when she came to a stop, a huge smile cracking her fierce expression. She tore off her goggles and helmet, her blue eyes glinting in the sun. She was older by a few years, which only cemented my crush. My heart had started to pound, a feeling whirling through me like a blaring siren in my eleven-year-old body.

  She was stunning. Life bloomed off her like spring. She was a beacon; my legs began to move, wanting to be near her.

  Then I saw my brother run up to her, which stopped my feet in the snow. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squealing, her face bursting with joy as he picked her up and hugged her. An older blond guy joined them, patted her on the back, and draped an arm over my brother and her. Familiarity. A closeness as if they were family. Something I never had with Jonah and never would.

  Jealousy scraped my spine, chafing my chest. My gaze latched on to her. I couldn’t see my brother’s face, but I saw hers. I didn’t know much at that age, but one thing was obvious…this girl was completely in love with him.

  The same woman I had been so deep inside I didn’t even want to find my way out of had loved Jonah first, the same as everybody else. My mind seemed to get the severity of this, of her lies and deception, but my body didn’t seem to give a shit. She had gotten under my skin. Seen the darkness. Understood it.

  Little did I know she shared the same nightmare. Jesus. She knew this whole time…while I thrust inside her, told her my secrets, let her see me…and I had no fucking clue who she truly was. She lied to me this entire time.

  Revulsion came strong and swift. Fuck her. I never wanted to see or even hear of her again. But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. She was the link to my brother. To what happened on that hill.

  Rage and abhorrence toward her coated my tongue. I swiveled toward the kitchen, swiping the keys to the SUV Graham had rented for me and stalked out the door. I needed to finally face the one person who I had idolized, loved, and hated with the same intensity.

  My brother.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Hannah

  I stared out my car window, my gloved hands clenching the steering wheel. I eventually had to get out, face what was before me, but I couldn’t get my body to move. White flakes fluttered down from the sky, settling on the glass, covering it like a million puzzle pieces. The view outside was swallowed up by white; white so impregnable it sucked the afternoon light from the space. Oxygen caught in my throat, drilling my heart against my ribs. The sensation of being buried alive cocooned me in its web.

  The three of us hadn’t been stupid. We understood nature had full control and could turn on us at any time. Growing up in snow, you took avalanches very seriously. Ski resorts did everything they could to prevent them and there had been no prior warnings that night. But we were also young, high on life and our victories; we couldn’t imagine anything bringing us down, feeling the world should give us a free pass for a night.

  Nature had other ideas. And it took every dream, hope, and life it could as payment for all it had given us.

  Seeing the younger version of me on TV—the happy, carefree Brennley—had let her out again and summoned the horrors in which she was cloaked, taking her from the hiding place in my soul.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Brennley

  (Nine Years Earlier)

  The sounds of my boots crunching through the snow and my breath wheezing from my throat were almost drowned out by the sobs wrenching up my throat. My arms and fingers ached. No. It can’t be true.

  “Brennley!” I heard Jonah scream, the night closing on me the farther I moved from the fire. From them.

  “Stop! Bren, stop!” The shrillness in Bryan’s voice was like a lasso around my ankles and arms, stopping me with a jerking halt. My head swung around. The firelight danced on their faces. Both of them looked past me, up the hill, their expressions twisted with alarm.

  That’s when I heard the rumble, similar to thunder in the distance. The mountain growled, awakening.

  I had heard that sound enough to know what it meant. Small slides happened sometimes with the melting of snow or the final flake that tipped the scales and created enough weight to break away the same as tumbling rock.

  But right then I welcomed it. Wanted it. I taunted Mother Nature, and she responded.

  My gaze snapped to the hill as another shatter and pop sliced through the cool air, vibrating the ground, as though a monster was waking from his slumber, shaking off the snow from its back.

  For a split second, we all stood in horror. Terror chained us to our spot. Like a tornado filled with freight trains, the snow ripped away from its hold, barreling down the mountain with a roar set straight for us.

  “Run!” Bryan screamed, waving me forward. Adrenaline plunged through my limbs, but as if mud cemented the soles of my boots to the ground, my legs struggled to move quickly through the calf-deep snow.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fear coiled around my throat, the thunder behind us racing toward the finish line.

  “Brennley! Come on!” Jonah took a few steps toward me, both guys waiting until I caught up. I had gotten farther away from them than I thought. Every second they wasted waiting for me, they could have gotten away. Panic choked my throat, my legs still not moving fast enough.

  “No! Run!” I waved them forward. But neither of them budged. All for one, and one for all. Our motto rang in my head, squeezing my heart. After what I said to them—my heart had been breaking, I hadn’t cared how loud I wailed—I had caused this.

  And they still waited for me.

  A choked sob broke from my throat. Faster, Brennley! Run faster! But it was too late. The ground shifted underfoot, loose powder skating past me, wobbling my grip to the earth. The roar pounded in my ears, nipping at my heels.

  My gaze shot between my brother and Jonah. Terror, sadness, fear. We all seemed to understand. Death had come for us. Their eyes locked with mine. I love you, I tried to convey.

  SLAM.

  Like a dump truck had unloaded a thousand bricks onto my head, my bones crunched as the wall of snow plowed into me, consuming
my body in one gulp. Darkness encased me in my tomb and tumbled me around like a lone die. A cocoon of ice wrapped so tight around me I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open. My world spun and rolled my bones in different directions. I could hear the guys’ cries before the snow gobbled up everything in its wake, including sound.

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  I couldn’t feel anything. Or understand anything. Except one thing. The snow had claimed me and would keep me forever in its icy grave.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Hannah

  Salt coated my lips, and I wiped away the few tears that escaped, grief thick in my throat. The snow had completely concealed me in solitude, blanketing the windshield of my car. My hands gripped my legs as if I were trying to hold on to reality, to keep the memories from pulling me under. I stared down, acknowledging the constant ache in my hip I had learned to tune out over the years. The trauma stayed hidden underneath my clothes, marking my right leg and side.

  I recalled the excruciating pain to simply stand again. It took years to walk without a limp, to be able to surf or ride a bike without aching and stiffness, not to mention the mental and physical therapy I underwent for years. My grandmother was there every session, waiting for me. My base. My pillar. Helping me stand again after my right leg and hip were crushed. My parents did courtesy calls on Sundays, and over the years even those grew sporadic.

  “Those scars are there to show you your strengths, not your weakness, my girl.” My grandma’s warm hands held my cheeks, forcing me to look into her green eyes. “They help to define you. But be careful to not let them identify you.”

  My heart ached with my loss, the smell of her rose perfume when I’d lay my head on her lap and she’d softly lace her fingers through my hair. She’d made bad days feel less horrible. She was an awful cook, but I even missed her dry pork chops, only made edible by her wonderful gravy, and her cardboard cookies I’d actually eat because she made them out of love. For me. I missed my grandmother so much at times I couldn’t breathe. It was her death that brought me back here. Searching for something. Now I could hear her in my head. “You are strong, my girl. A fighter. You don’t give up. You get up and try again.”

  It was time I got up. Faced my past. What had happened. What I did.

  The car door squeaked as I jerked it open, the old thing rejecting the movement. Tired and cranky, the metal scraped against itself. I stepped out, inhaling the damp air, flakes grabbing on to my lashes. With each step, my legs grew heavier and my instinct to turn back grew stronger. Run. Hide. For nine years I had done just that, slid aimlessly through life. I thought myself content with who I had become, the girl with no past. But without a past, I could have no future.

  Rhys had changed everything. I no longer felt satisfied with just breathing each day. There was no doubt I had lost him; there would be no way to forgive me. But even as my soul wrenched at the thought, I was still thankful for him. He woke me up, dug me out of my grave, and injected life back into my veins.

  My boots moved me forward on autopilot. I had been here once, right before I left for San Diego. Driven by my internal GPS, I made my way up the path, as though he were calling me, leading me to him. Shame. Grief. Anger. They all tasted like dirt on my tongue. It had taken me so long to come back. He had been my best friend and I left him.

  Bryan would have wanted me to go, knowing it was the only way to heal. If circumstances were different, if he had run when I told him to, he might have gone with me. Life would have been so different. Bryan always pushed me to do better. Be better. He would have never let me diminish and become a shell of myself.

  I stopped, pressed my hand to my chest, strain twitching my lungs as I my eyes found his name scrolled across the plaque. Bryan Evans. Tears burned behind my lids, sorrow dropped on my shoulders, bending me over. My hands gripped my knees. This time seeing his name felt different, as if the life before was simply a nightmare, and I had shoved that time away into a box, keeping it separate.

  Now it was real. Being here blended and swirled the split lives into one, making a smoothie of fear, anguish, and hell.

  Air clogged in my throat, emotion swarming down on me like a flock of vultures, picking and tearing at what was left of me. I tried to control and slow the flex of my muscles, biting back the sobs threatening to crawl up my throat. Breathe. Slow. In. Out.

  My hands fisted so hard my nails dug into my palms until pain drew me out of my panic attack. I wouldn’t cry. I would not show the tremendous grief I felt inside. Just hold it in a little longer.

  Sucking in, I straightened, swallowing the lump expanding around my vocals.

  And I stepped forward.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Brennley

  (Nine Years Earlier)

  “Miss? Miss, can you hear me?” A faraway voice broke through the darkness. My mind wanted to swim away, float longer in the peace of nothing. I scooted away from the voice, diving deeper, but it followed me, shredding my tranquility. Go away! I wanted to scream, understanding there would be nothing but pain if I let them pull me back. More light blasted into the darkness. “Holy shit! She is alive! Help, over here!”

  “Miss?” With a jolt to my body, I was pitched out of obscurity, ramming me into a wall of life. My lashes fluttered at the sounds of people screaming and rushing around me. Blurry, my eyes opened to figures hovering over me. What my eyes tracked, my mind did not seem to register. All I perceived was the rising sun striking the mountain in brilliant purples and golds. What a gorgeous morning to go snowboarding, I thought before my lids drifted down, sending me back to the dark.

  When my eyes opened again, ceiling lights zipped by overhead, and people in scrubs ran alongside me. I could feel their desperation in the frantic tones of their voices and movements. Logically I knew I was in my body, but I didn’t feel it. I felt I was floating outside of it, barely attached.

  The only thought I had was for Bryan and Jonah. Where were they? Were they okay?

  Not realizing I had asked out loud, a nurse peered down at me, and his hand reached over mine. “Your brother is already in surgery.” The corners of his eyes and mouth pinched, his head tilted, his eyes filled with sadness. Something was wrong. Why didn’t he tell me where Jonah was? Was Bryan all right?

  “Don’t think about that now, Brennley. We need you to fight, to concentrate on yourself.”

  As if he let butterflies loose inside me, nerves winged against my conscience. I understood he didn’t answer my question. Where were they? My heart stumbled in my chest, my lids lowering. Fighting against it, I put all my strength into the hand being held by the nurse. “Tell me,” my voice rasped out.

  “Your brother is alive. He’s in surgery now.” The guy squeezed my hand back. Bryan’s alive. I waited to hear about Jonah, but darkness clouded my vision.

  “She’s crashing!” a man’s voice cried over my head, my lids no longer able to fight the pull as I let the darkness collect me.

  “Fight, Brennley. Fight for us!” the nurse shouted in my ear, but all I heard was Jonah and Bryan yelling at me.

  All for one, and one for all. Jonah was all right. He had to be.

  They both had to be. We did nothing without the other. Even die.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Hannah

  But I was wrong. I was so wrong.

  I stared at the man sleeping in bed, a deep scar ran over his skull where hair didn’t grow anymore. His blond hair was kept shaved, his once healthy, fit body wasted away to nothing more than skin and bones.

  Even asleep, you could tell something was wrong. Similar to a victim of a stroke, the muscles in his face didn’t work as they used to.

  I covered my mouth, damming the sob coughing up my esophagus. Tears hazed my vision, and I had to spin away toward the wall.

  “Well, hello.” A woman’s voice caused me to jump. A trim African-American woman stood in the doorway dressed in pink scrubs, a tray in her hand. Her name tag read Michelle
. “I thought I saw someone signed in to see him.” She smiled warmly at me, walking into the room and placing the tray on a rolling table. “I was just going to wake him for his dinner.”

  I stared at her in silence, my heart pounding in my chest. It still felt safe with him asleep. A wall separating me from the situation.

  “You’re his sister, right?” She peered at me, her face and voice void of the judgment I maintained for myself. “Brennley?”

  All I could do was nod, my vocal cords braided together.

  “Do you want to help?” She unwrapped the cellophane from the dish. “I’m sure he’d be excited to have anyone but same old me.” She winked, her tone even and soothing.

  My head rattled back and forth. I couldn’t move.

  Her lips compressed but she nodded. She turned back to the grown man sleeping soundly, his mouth parted.

  “Bryan?” She sang his name gently. “Time to wake up.” He stirred, twisting into his pillow. “It’s an exciting day. You have a visitor. Your sister’s here.” She rubbed his arm, his lids blinking as he stirred awake. He peered up at her, a garbled moan vibrating his chest.

  “Let’s sit you up so you can have some dinner. It’s meatloaf. You like meatloaf.” Every movement and word were smooth and fluid, her aura similar to a balm on an agitated soul. The bed raised him to a sitting position. He made more garbled noises. He would never be able to speak coherent sentences again; his brain damage was too severe.

  A crack zigzagged across my heart like an eggshell. Breath stumbled in and out of my chest. The man in front of me was a far cry from the vibrant, healthy, strong, young man I knew. Bryan had been the focus of every girl’s fantasy. How many times had they befriended me to get closer to him? He’d been tall, blond, built, with a smile that melted the public into slush. A spokesman for energy drinks and cereal, he was the golden boy of the snow, and Jonah, the dark-haired prince of snowboarding. They’d even done a few commercials together, creating a frenzy of attention. Inseparable, the kings of the mountain were full of life and hope, paved in snow.