He Chose the Alps,I Chose Goodby

The day my brother died, my fiancé was skiing in the Alps with her. I called him seventeen times. He hung up on every one. So I buried the only family I had left and vanished into the Montana snow. I thought I was done with Damian Voss. Then three black SUVs pulled up outside the rescue station, and the man who let my brother die walked toward me, begging me to come home. He wants forgiveness. I want him gone. But some secrets are buried deeper than the snow.