Carry Your Heart (22 page)

“Yeah. I’m fucking twenty-three. And there was like this little nineteen year old out there. I was like,
Jesus
Christ
, what happened to my youth? And my knees? I have shitty knees. I blame Doug and age. When do snowboarders retire?”

Joe chuckles. “Thirty.”

“Damn. I will definitely not be able to do that kind of stuff in seven years.”

“Yeah, well. I thought that trip was supposed to be fun.”

“It usually is,” he shrugs. “But the snow sucked and everyone else was single. Plus, Micah sprained his ankle and had to leave. Everyone wanted to party. I just made sure nobody passed out and died,” he rolls his eyes. “And the boarding was shitty, I mean, nothing to write home about. Too much drama, everyone’s always trying to figure out what everyone else is getting paid. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“Well, you missed a lot of drama at Placid, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Hunter glances at Joe. “What drama? Placid drama?”

Joe hesitates, frowning at me.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.
Too quickly
. Hunter immediately knows something is wrong.

“What?” Hunter looks at me and then at Joe. “Yo, what the fuck happened?”

“Nothing fucking happened. Do you have anything to eat?” I get to my feet and wander to the kitchen. Of course he doesn’t, he’s been back two days. “Is this gin still good?”

“Yah,” Hunter says absently. “Yo, Pippa, what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing,” I say. I shrug. I set the cup down on the counter and fill the chill of the bottle in my hot hands.

“Alright, this is getting super shady.” He gives me a goofy grin. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with this idiot or something.”

I hesitate too long.

“Wait, are you serious?” he scrambles to his feet. “Wha—”

“No, fucking, no. I did not sleep with Joe. And nothing really happened at Placid,” I say quickly. “It’s not a big deal,” I say. I try and level my voice. “Some people aren’t happy we’re dating. I don’t particularly care.”

“Neither do I. Laurel can go fuck herself.”

“That’s really only part of the problem” Joe says. “I mean. A lot of Danny’s friends…”

I lean against the kitchen counter and Hunter turns his head back to look at me. “What did they say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Pippa.”

“I—that.” I take one deep breath and say it as calmly as I can. “That Danny was planning to propose. Apparently.” I swallow. “I hadn’t known that. Parker was upset that I’d moved on so quickly. And I had a small breakdown in the parking lot but I’m
fine
.”

“People need to mind their own busi…” he starts and stops.

I lift one shoulder.

“Wait? He was—you were? Man…” Hunter rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. The game’s paused. The controller lies abandoned at his side. “You were going to get married?”

There’s a long silence in the room as he gets his bearings.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I called. You were always busy,” I say. That’s a lie. I wasn’t going to tell him ever. Probably shouldn’t have told him just now.

His hair is ruffled from where he’s run his hands through it, and he looks huggable in a gray Henley shirt and navy sweats. I want to forget about Danny, and melt against him. I want to stop carrying Danny around with me all the time.

“You had all day to tell me,” he says. “So, you were engaged?”

“Maybe I should go,” Joe offers, and when no one tells him that he’s welcome to stay, he disappears quickly. The door clicks behind him as Hunter gets to his feet.

“He never proposed,” I say.

“But if he had, you’d have said yes?”

I lift my shoulders. “I have no idea, Hunter. How could I know the answer to that?”

“It’s not that hard of a question. It’s pretty simple, actually. If Danny were alive, would you have said yes?”

“Probably,” I murmur. “I don’t know. I didn’t think that was something he was thinking about. So, I—I don’t know what I’d have said.”

Hunter looks like I’ve slapped him and I start backpedaling. “Hunter, I didn’t know you. I mean, it’s an impossible…”

“Why
wouldn’t
you tell me that?”

“I didn’t even find out until Placid and every time I talked to you, you were on a bus, or it was on a text, and what was I supposed to say? Oh, guess what? My dead ex-boyfriend was going to propose to me and I’m kind of freaking the fuck out about it?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to say,” he yells, angrily. “What do you mean? What are you supposed to say? Just open your mouth and talk to me! How is it that Joe and Parker know that you were basically going to get married—”

“They knew for a year before they thought to tell me,” I say, more angrily and loudly. “How the fuck are you getting mad at me about this?”

“Because it pisses me off,” he snaps back.

“Why does it p…”

“I don’t know,” he snarls, kicking his foot against a chair softly. “I don’t fucking know but…” He inhales. “It just pisses me off. And it pisses me off that you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t just get mad at me over this. It’s not a reason. It’s something that I didn’t even know would happen.”

“You want a reason? I’m starting to fall in love with you and you know all this shit about me and my fucking family and I don’t even know anything about you and for some
ridiculous
reason, I’m the one in love,” he says petulantly, like he’s angry at me that he’s in love.

My breath catches. “Hunter…” He loves me.

“No, just…” he turns to face the windows. “Can you give me a second?”

“You’re not…”

“Pippa. Please.
Just go.
”

I walk to him and put my hands on his waist.

“Hunt,” I say softly. “I…”

He stiffens, moves away jerkily. “Pippa. I want you to leave.”

I go. I walk out of the room, swallowing hard. My heart throbs. I’m terrified of what he means by
I want you to leave.
I take the elevator down to my floor and sit on my bed and my mind starts to race.

I don’t know why I listened to him instead of saying
I love you, too.
I don’t know why it takes me two hours, pacing in my room, waiting to hear from him, for me to realize I never said it back.

And when I bang on the door to his room, looking for him, he’s gone. Or he doesn’t come to the door. And I go back to my room and go out to ski, hoping to clear my head for a little while.

It will be fine
, I try to tell myself.
I just have to find him and talk to him and then it will be fine.

Chapter Thirty

It takes me a day to realize that he is really gone. That his car’s not in the lot and that he’s not reading his texts or if he is, he doesn’t care that I need him to call me and I’m sorry.

When I finally ask him if he’s going to text me back or should I call the police, he gives me four words.

I’m fine need space

Space? He needs space? What the hell did he think he had during those three weeks in Europe?

I don’t focus on the curious and awful nature of being in limbo with a guy I’m in deep with. At least, I try not to focus on it. I try to focus on other things. On the two-day tournament in Lake Tahoe next week. On the weather forecast. But it comes back, like a song that I can’t get out of my head.
Hunter, Hunter, Hunter. Hunter needs space.

***

At breakfast with Joe, he asks me if I want to go backcountry skiing with him.

“It would be fun,” he says.

“I’ll think about it.”

He bites his lip. “Are you sure you and Hunter are done?”

“Unless, he was kidnapped,” I say darkly.

Joe frowns. “No. He’s. I know where he is. He’s in Whistler.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to talk to me about this.”

“I want to,” he says gently.

“No, you don’t,” I reply. “You told me this would happen…”

He hesitates. “Still. You’re my friend. Danny’s friend. Hunter’s my friend, too. I just think he can be a dick sometimes.”

“I think you’re onto something.”

He smiles. “Pip…we were…I don’t know what happened to us, but we were all supposed to be there for each other. And then—they both
died
, you know? And then we weren’t really there for each other at all. Everyone was so fucking hurt by it, nobody could look out for anyone else.”

I think of the day of the avalanche again. It’s a powerful memory today, more vivid than usual.

I think of how I remember everything except for fear. There wasn’t any time for it. I wonder how long they were afraid for. How long it took for their lives to end. I know Ryan went faster than Danny. I close my eyes, wishing badly that I didn’t know the order they died in and that I never had learned about which of them had suffered more.

“I’ll go backcountry with you,” I say quickly. “Nothing too extreme though. And maybe not for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grins. “Awesome. We’ll keep it real.”

“Awesome,” I repeat brokenly.

I want to do something so stupid. Humiliating. Drive up to Whistler. Find him. Tell him
love you, too.

***

Hunter is gone. He’s
really, really gone
. It’s hard to wrap my head around.

Just give me a second. im fine need space.

This is some kind of fucking second, Hunter.

Lottie wants to be friends again. I wonder how much Laurel paid her to do this. Or if she’s really just interested in my misery.

“You okay?” she asks after training three days after the disappearance.

“Fine,” I say.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

“No, I don’t know that.” I say. “What I know is everything I tell you will probably be repeated to Laurel and then will probably end up on a blog.”

She hesitates. “Look, it’s not like that.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Would you listen to me?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re the only one who could have told her,” I say. “All of that shit that ended up online, Lottie. You were the only one who told her about.”

She bites her lip. “Alright, I
fucked
up.”

“Thank you. I didn’t need you to say it, but thanks for the clarification.”

“But I am sorry, Pippa.”

“That’s fine, too. But you can’t just pretend we’re friends again after my boyfriend breaks up with me.”

“So, he’s the one who broke up with you?” she asks cautiously.

I swear to myself silently. “Jesus, Lottie. Seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just—it’s not like that.”

I glare at her.

“Look, you can’t blame me for being a little bit upset. You were gone. For a
year
. And shit
changed
. You were always better than me. And then you came back and everything changed again.”

“Lottie,” I say, my voice close to cracking. “Right now, I cannot be worried about whether or not you have my back. I told myself I wasn’t going to trust you again, and that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t—I just can’t keep worrying about so many different things.”

I realize how tired I am of all of this shit.
Was I this tired with Danny? At school? No. Because Danny would never fucking disappear without a word. He would never ignore my texts for no good reason.

She looks at me. “Well. If you change your mind…and you want to talk.”

I nod once. “Sure. Thanks.”

She swallows and looks at me. “He’s…”

“I’m not talking to you about it with you. Lott, I just can’t right now.”

***

We head out to Mammoth. And pathetically, I wonder if Hunter will know where to find me.

But Europe, the days without him, they made me stronger. I’m not afraid of the race this time.

Another race. You’ve got this one. You’re calm. It will be easy.

I kill it in Mammoth in the first round, breezing through to the finals in downhill and not worrying about the other events, because Mike’s agreed I should stick to the one event.

Lottie and I go into town for dinner. We are cautiously trying to be friends again, but both of us are nervous and untrusting. We’re too quick to jump on things the other says. Both of us wonder why we’re bothering. The trust doesn’t come back easily. We make it hard for each other, but still we try.

We head up to our rooms early. I miss him. My whole body misses him, like I’m going through withdrawal or something.

I wonder about the quality of missing Hunter Dawson. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It aches in my chest and I want him near to me. And I’m so furious at him that I never want to see him again.

But only if I could just stop missing him.

I crush my arms around a pillow, a poor substitute for someone real to hold. I fall asleep like that, curled tightly around it, as if I believe that if I press it hard enough to my chest, it will fill the empty spaces in my heart, and protect me from the way missing so many people feels.

Chapter Thirty-One

The landline by my bed rings at 3 AM. I wake with a start and reach for it. “There’s a Hunter Dawson down here saying he knows you.”

I should be angry, but what hits me is pure relief.
He came back.

“Oh, send him up.” My mind races. I’m half afraid this is a dream and half afraid that it’s real. I wonder if everything is okay.

“He seems…intoxicated.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s fine.”

I turn on the light and run my hands through my messy hair, getting out of bed to pace and pull on a sweatshirt.

I open the door to see him. All six feet two inches of him, wavering drunkenly on his heels.

“Can I come in?” he speaks softly, looking perfect, looking like a mess. A perfect mess.

I close the door behind him, surprised to find his hands on me already.

“Hunter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hunter…” he runs his hands down my body and kisses me against softly.

“You’re drunk.”

“I still mean it. I’m sorry,” he whispers to me softly.

“Where the
fuck
did you go?” I ask. “And why the
fuck
didn’t you just…”