Carry Your Heart (20 page)

“My fault?”

“Probably,” he says. He laughs a little, sounding tired but happy. “Everyone thinks you’ve hypnotized me. Even the bus driver didn’t believe me when I said I had a serious girlfriend.”

I smile, liking the sound of that way too much.

“How’d it go?”

“I’m though to finals,” I smile.

“Hey. Way to go.”

“Thanks. I have more first rounds tomorrow.” I bite my lip. “I finished second in the downhill, though.”

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s a big deal.”

I laugh. “It doesn’t matter until finals.”

“It’s still a big fucking deal.” I can hear him shifting on the bus. “Congrats, Speedy.”

“How’s the snow out there?”

“Not deep enough,” he yawns. “Micah sprained his ankle yesterday, so he’s headed home. We’re all pretty beat. We might loop back for some West Coast stuff since it’s so icy over here.”

“I miss you,” I say softly.

“Me too.” He whispers it. I know he’s on the van, with guys who have known him for years and are already giving him a hard time about having a girlfriend.

I love you.

I don’t say it. “You can’t really talk can you?”

“No, I-I-it’s cool. What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I smile. “Good to hear your voice. That’s all.”

“You too,” he says. I hear him sigh heavily. “Well, let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“You’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks. Be safe.”

I hang up the phone, with so many things between us left unsaid. Just another week or two. I can handle that. He’s coming back. That should be enough.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I make it through finals for the second two events too. Barely, in Super G, which I hate, but I make it.

The night before the final for downhill and grand slalom, there’s a barbeque dinner, on the wide outside terrace of the center at the mountain’s base, where the ski lifts run from.

I’m expecting the cold shoulder from Lottie, who has officially decided I’m her competition and therefore no longer her friend.
God, things have changed.

She’s with Laurel, laughing. And I wonder if I should be insulted that she’d rather hang out with someone she used to call a death eater, or flattered that she thinks I’m bigger competition than Laurel.

Or, if I should feel totally responsible for not telling her I was going to a benefit with Hunter all those weeks ago. Or, if I should feel stupid for thinking she was a good friend when something that small and inconsequential came between us.

I turn hesitantly around the unfriendly room, looking for someone to talk to. There’s nothing worse than being caught with a plate of food in your hands and no table to go to.

I see Joe and Parker, a few other alpine skiers and I approach cautiously. Joe gives me half of a smile, but Parker just glares.

When I sit down, Joe nods. “Hey.”

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing. You had a good run,” he points out.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“I heard you almost beat Mangold?” Joe asks.

I shrug. “Not really.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

I look at Parker. “Hey, Parker.”

“Hi,” he says tersely. Something is
definitely
up.

I look around the table. These guys were Danny and Ryan’s friends. They always had my back, too. I bite my lip. “What’s wrong?”

Parker gives a short little laugh.

“What?”

“You can’t seriously be asking me that question.”

“But I am,” I say.

“Alright. I think the whole thing with Dawson is bullshit.”

I rub my chin softly. “Parker, I can’t…” I swallow. This is not the place to ask for sympathy. They all miss them just as fucking much as I do. “I need…” I exhale. “I haven’t been able to do anything for a year. I still feel like I can’t do things. I don’t. Do you think just because I’m trying to move on, I’ve forgotten what happened?”

“Hunter Dawson isn’t moving on,” Parker says. “That’s a fucking joke, Pippa, and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t know that,” I say. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Yeah? For how long?”

“Parker, Danny is gone.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Parker demands.

“I still love him and I still miss him and if he were here…”

“He was going to propose to you,” Parker spits angrily. “He wanted to marry you, and it’s not even a
year
…”

“Wait—what?” I demand.

“Parker!” Joe says shortly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I repeat my question. “What did you just say?”

“Danny was going to propose to you,” Parker repeats, bitterly, ignoring Joe’s explosion.

I stare vacantly at him, shaking my head. We were twenty years old. He was going to propose to me? No. I shake my head quickly, my eyes welling up. How did I not know that?

“We agreed not to tell her,” Joe says thinly.

“Well, I couldn’t keep it a secret any more,” Parker snaps back. “He bought a fucking ring. She should know that.”

The room has fallen chillingly quiet.

I look from Parker to Joe and back to Parker. “How—you decided not to…” I get up, leaving my plate behind, and whirl for the door.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Joe says to Parker. I hear footsteps after mine, out into the hallway, down the stairs, to the parking lot neighboring the village. I press my hand tightly over my mouth.

He was going to propose to you.

“Pippa,” Joe shouts. “Pippa. Wait.” I hear him running and I try to run faster, but sobs course through my body and I have to stop. I stagger over to a snow bank and just sit down on it, even though I’m wearing jeans, not snow pants, and it’s wet and cold and dark and January and I’m a fucking wreck.

I’m crying in a painful, searing way. My lungs physically ache with the effort.

“Pippa,” Joe says. He kneels before me. “Pippa. It’s okay. Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down,” I shout at him. “Do you think I haven’t tried that?”

Joe glances up at the sky and squats there. “Look.”

I take one breath after another, until I manage to get a hold on my breathing enough to talk coherently. I swallow, wiping my eyes and praying to God that nobody can see me.

“We didn’t tell you because we thought you’d be upset.”

“I don’t—I’m not—I don’t. I can’t—it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?” I finally manage to splutter. “God, Joe. It’s not like there would have been a wedding if you said something.”

“Okay. Maybe we should have told you.”

“Maybe you should just leave me alone,” I say. I run a hand through my hair, thinking of Danny. Wondering when he decided on forever. Wondering when he was going to ask if he hadn’t died.

As if he’s reading my mind, Joe starts to answer my questions: “He was going to propose during your trip. He—Parker helped him get the ring.” He takes a step towards me: “You were such a mess after—I just thought. You know, he’d have been your fiancé. It was hard enough losing your boyfriend. I mean, I don’t know. It seemed like it would have made everything worse.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” I say again. “He’s dead. He died when he was twenty. It wouldn’t have been any easier if he were my fiancé. It wouldn’t have been any harder either. We’d never have gotten married if he’d asked, because he died when he was twenty.”

“Well, that’s obviously not how you should have found out. Parker’s—he’s had a really hard time with the whole thing.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I don’t like seeing you upset.”

“Well, then let me get out of your way,” I say. I stand up, brushing snowing off of my legs.

“The thing with Hunter…”

“What?” I yell at him, throatily. “What do you want to say? That he’s using me? That he doesn’t give a shit? That I’m not hot enough to hold his attention for longer than two seconds?” I glare at him.
I love Hunter. I love Danny.
“I’m not that
fucked
up, Joe.”

“Nobody said you were.”

“And I’m not stupid either,” I add angrily. I swallow. “You should give me the benefit of the doubt. I fell in love with Danny, didn’t I? Maybe I know how to pick the good ones. Because Danny was pretty fucking good, wasn’t he?” My voice cracks again. “You couldn’t really get much be-better than Danny.”

“Yeah, Danny—Danny really was,” Joe whispers. His eyes are full too. “He was the best.”

“Yeah,” I nod, remembering him vividly and gulping. “I
like
Hunter, Joey. Okay? He makes me forget. And I’m tired of remembering.” I glance up at the dark sky. “He’s a really good person. And I don’t really care whether or not you believe it, because I already know.” I turn to walk back to the lodge.

“Pippa,” Joe shouts. I stop, but I don’t turn around.

He takes a few more steps and puts a hand on my elbow. He turns me to face him. “Look. That whole thing. With Parker?” He swallows. He’s getting emotional too. “It’s not about you and Hunter. It’s just that you….you were Danny’s girlfriend. Even after…after he died, I think we still thought of you that way.”

I swallow tickly.

“And now,” with a burst of air he manages to get the rest of it out “…now you’re someone else’s girlfriend and it’s just…Pippa, it just fucking
sucks
.” He’s crying too, and I reach for his strong shoulders and hug him.

“Yeah, I know,” I whisper into his ear. “It sucks a lot. I think it will always suck.”

When I let him go, I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm. “Sorry if I…”

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry too.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I wake up alone. Wrung out like a rag. But I feel lighter, somehow, like a dam broke in my chest and the tension’s gone. At least I have Joe. And Court back east. One amazing parent.

And Hunter, who has no idea that I nearly had a nervous breakdown in a parking lot last night over an ex-boyfriend he really knows nothing about. Hunter, who has no idea that I’ve fallen in love with him already.

Your heart is an idiot,
I think.
Isn’t it supposed to be the case that people who get burned once have a hard time falling in love again? Isn’t there some sort of defense mechanism that prevents this from happening?

I take my time. This isn’t how I planned to feel on race day, but I go from my room over to the lodge for coffee with a sense of conviction that goes right through my bones.

The finals’ groups in Lake Placid are small. Just 15 of us for downhill. Two, Lindsay Mangold and Alex White, already have Olympic medals. Lottie’s gunning for second or third.

And, though I won’t mention it to anyone, I’m gunning for first.

I’m going third-to-last. Before Lindsay Mangold and Alex White, as luck would have it. Which means that for me to get a medal here, I’ll have to beat the twelve girls before me. And then I’ll have to hold my breath and pray that Lindsay and Alex don’t overtake my time.

Penelope flies down first. 1:40.02. That’s awfully close to my best time, a time I’m not sure I can repeat, let alone top.

Everyone is flying today. Lottie finishes in 1:39.38 with a little smirk.
Better
than my first time. And Laurel finishes just a hair behind her.

Nobody is slower than 1:41.01 and I realize with a sinking feeling that it would be very easy to finish fifteen out of fifteen in a race where everyone’s times are this close and this fast.

By the time I’m up, Lottie is still the skier to beat. I swallow thickly, wondering why I’m not nervous, why I don’t feel any enormous pressure to win. All I feel is the fact that this is the clearest day I’ve seen all winter. And that the girls are flying today.

My skis are, my legs are warm, and the gates are perfectly spaced.
I have all the time in the world
, I think to myself.

And when the tone sounds, I just ski. It’s easy. It’s one of those days, where it comes so easy.
Something happened to me. I figured something out.

I hear the cheering before I finish. I hear the whoops. I know I’ve taken first.

I whip my head around and look at the fluorescent numbers.
Holy shit.
1:37.98.

I can’t help myself. I laugh, high and to the sky. I broke 1:38. I’m a whole second ahead of anyone.

I can’t contain my energy and my excitement. Bouncing on my toes, praying to God that it holds, that Lindsay and Alex don’t have something up their sleeve that I’ve never seen before.

Come on, come on. Hold. Hold. Hold.

I know Lindsay will be close. I watch the seconds as she approaches the finish line. She’s under 1:37. She could knock me out.
Come on, faster, faster
I say to the clock. Just a
tiny
bit faster.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Lindsay blows across the finish line.

1:38.01.
Oh my god
. I can’t breathe normally.
I just beat Lindsay Mangold in downhill. Holy fucking shit.

When my eyes flicker open, I see her sighing.
Three hundredths of a second. Three hundredths.

I put my hands on my hips and turn my back when Alex goes. I can’t watch. I can’t take the stress.

I swallow, listening to the cheering, trying to gauge if it’s going well or badly. I close my eyes tight.
How can it not be over yet?

I hear her skis scraping to a stop and the clapping and cheering continue. I turn.
1:38.51.

My heart thumps louder against my chest. I just beat two Olympic medalists. When we step to the podium, I look out, more disbelieving than proud.
It happened.
I won.

Everyone came out to watch this event—even the people who didn’t make it through to the second round. But I can see Lottie and Laurel walk back to the lodge, refusing to watch it take place. For the first time, Lottie’s betrayal means nothing to me.

This is the start of something big. This is the first day of the rest of your career.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I call Hunter for the fifth time since I’ve gotten back to Utah. He doesn’t pick up the phone. He never does.