Carry Your Heart (24 page)

“Those are bullshit.”

“Well, bullshit or not, Laurel’s scary. It’s just a fact.”

Hunter pushes open the door to the backroom that’s been rented out. “You’re being a psycho, Speedy. Just cool it. You have every right to be here. You were invited. And you invited me.”

“I never actually invited you.”

“Well, if you weren’t being a psycho, you’d have invited me, so we’re going to ignore the fact that you
rudely
neglected to do so.”

“Shut up.”

“Speedy…”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Maybe I should call you Psycho?”

“Maybe you should start coming up with nicknames that don’t suck.”

“I told you. I didn’t go to college. I have a limited vocabulary.”

I glance around the room. I don’t know what I’m expecting—everyone to stop talking and stare, maybe—but nothing happens. Parker glares in our direction and Lottie gives us an uncertain once-over, but nobody else seems to notice. Including Laurel, who has her back to us and is jabbering frenetically with Penelope.
A new alliance forming, perhaps? With a seventeen year old? Getting desperate, Laurel?

I feel like such a scold, when I wonder aloud to Hunter what a seventeen year old is doing at this kind of a party. He laughs at me.

“C’mon, like you didn’t drink when you were seventeen.”

“I wasn’t that young when I was seventeen,” I say, fully aware of how stupid that sounds even though it feels quite true.

He gives Lottie a warm hug, swinging her back and forth in her barstool. “Hey. Congrats. Pippa said you killed it today.”

“Thanks,” Lottie grins broadly and genuinely. She’s thrilled Hunter said hi to her before he spoke to Laurel or anyone else he knows here. Whether or not Parker thinks Hunter has somehow taken what belongs to his friend (ahem, me) doesn’t change that he’s by far the most successful athlete in the room. Hunter is someone who isn’t trying to make it as a professional athlete, but already has.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Hunter suggests, looking at Lottie. “We’re starved.”

We grab a booth in the darkening room and Hunter, who seems right at home, orders big baskets of deep fried onion rings and burgers and flirts with the waitress and nudges me with one strong, able shoulder.

He talks to Lottie, and I admire him while he does it. Leaning forward on his forearms, his shoulders close to his ears, his face breaking easily into a smile, and his eyes wide and glowing—
I’m in love with this man.

He slides one hand under the table to my knee and squeezes and I turn to look at him and, without saying a word, he leans forward and kisses me once, gently. And then he turns his attention back to Lottie, like public displays of affection are standard for us. Like we’re just a normal couple in a normal room under normal circumstances. And briefly, I start to believe that we are.

***

He sees Laurel before I do and slides an arm protectively around my waist to reassure me, or send a message to her. It doesn’t stop her from coming. She walks as deliberately as a drunk girl in stilettos can. She has something to say.

“Hey, Pippa,” she says, like my name’s a swearword.

“What’s up?” I ask, sipping my beer carefully. Her nails are perfectly painted the color of cranberries, and one hand is wrapped around a clear plastic cup. Her drink matches her nails. Cranberry vodka, if I remember from drinking with Laurel before correctly. She always ordered cranberry juice and vodka.

She sits down without being asked, next to Lottie, directly across from Hunter, and she stares at him hungrily. “Nice to see you again, Hunter.”

“Hi, Laurel,” he says, a small grin on his face, like the situation is funny to him. It
is
funny to him, I realize. To him, she’s just another cast-off ex-less-than-a-girlfriend who didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do relationships.

Maybe he’ll find me that amusing too, someday. It’s a scary thought. But it’s there.

“So, you two got back together?” she asks.

He smiles. “Let’s go for a walk, Laurel.”

“No, I want to talk to you
and
Pippa.”

He rolls his eyes and slides out of the booth. He puts a hand on her back and walks her away to a corner. I watch them carefully, his crossed arms as he leans against the wall listening, and her gesturing wildly and swearing at him.

He shakes his head at her over and over again and then she breaks away from him. He grabs her arm but she shakes him off roughly, coming back to me. She finishes her drink and sets it down on the table, standing, wavering on her heels, furious and proud.

“I just thought you should know that he came to see me,” she hisses furiously. She looks hurt as he walks over to intercept her. “He came to Whistler and spent the night to me. He told me he didn’t think he could stay with you because you were still in love with your dead fiancé…”

“Laurel, you are misconstruing thing…”

“No, shut up,” she says. “She deserves to know where you were. He said he thought it was over with you,” her voice catches. “And I think you deserve to know where he was. Because you’ve been through enough.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“Laurel,” Hunter barks. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s true,” she says.

“It’s not like that. I didn’t even
touch
you. Jesus. Pippa, don’t listen to her.”

“Where were you?” I ask. I’m too shocked to put any anger or hurt in my voice. It’s just a question that I need an answer to. Too shocked to feel anything at all.

“Oh, this is pathetic,” Laurel says, storming off.

Hunter turns to watch her go and then turns just as quickly back to me.

“Hunter?”

“She’s pissed off I don’t want to date her. And she wants you to think…”

“Were you with her or not?” I demand. My heart already knows. He went to see her. When I though I lost him, he went to see here.

Everyone else was right. All of them. They were right. I was a fool. All along, I was nothing but a fool.

“I saw her,” he says. “Yes, I saw her, but…I slept on the couch.”

“Did you tell her you thought it was over with us?”

“Pippa…”

“No, you had time to see Laurel when you went missing, without saying a goddamn word to me. I thought you were just over it. And then you come back at three in the morning when I have a race, and I’m supposed to be available to you?” I ask. “That’s the deal?”

“We should go.”

“No, you stay,” I say. “You’re the one who wanted to come here. I’ll go.” I push from the booth and out the doors, to the cold parking lot.

He follows me outside, putting his hand on my wrist as I dial a cab.

“Don’t touch me.” I whirl. I’m going to cry. I’m going to start crying. Again. In a
motherfucking parking lot
, in front of all these people.

Lottie appears in the doorway. “I can drive you back.” She volunteers it gently. She’s from Mammoth. “I have my dad’s car.”

“Thanks,” I say completely ungratefully, even though I want to take back every resentful thought I’ve ever had about Lottie back because she might be getting me out of here. Because this is what real friends do. When you’re breaking down, they follow you outside and offer you a ride home.

“Wait,” Hunter says. “Would you just fucking wait?”

“No. You don’t get to tell me to wait. You disappeared when I wanted to talk to you. Remember? And I didn’t go fucking see my ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s because he’s dead.”

“Thank you for the newsflash,” I snap. “You think I forgot?”

“If he weren’t, you’d never be with me in the first place. How the fuck do you think that feels, Pippa?” he takes a step forward, reaching for me. His voice and breath are ragged. “How do you think it feels knowing I’m never going to live up to this guy? That the only reason I get a chance to be with you is that he’s dead. And you can’t have him anymore. And so I’m around, and that’s nice, but it’s not really want you want. How the fuck do you think…”

“You went to see a girl who called me a slut and a whore on the internet. And you’re accusing me of not caring about you enough? Are you
joking
?” I shout.

“Guys,” Lottie says.

“Just give me a second,” I say shortly.

“I’ll bring the car around,” she mutters. I watch her walk off to her parents’ car and catch my breath. I turn back to Hunter, whose body is tense with furious energy.

“What?” I ask Hunter, seeing the hurt look in his eyes. “What am I supposed to say? That I’m sorry I have a dead boyfriend? Is that really what this is about?”

He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair.

“It’s like you’re playing with fire,” I say. “You just can’t make up your mind. Why did you want to come here tonight? To make Laurel jealous? I don’t understand you.”

“That is not why I wanted to come here tonight. Not everyone has fucking ulterior motives all the time. I wanted to do something with you.”

“Why did you go see her?”

“I don’t—I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Why did you go see
her
?”

“I didn’t even mean to see her. It just happened. I was just thinking about you and about how…I don’t know, I don’t know, Pippa. I don’t fucking know why I do half of the things I do. I don’t even know why I asked you out,” he says. He sounds tired, used up, and he puts his hands on his head. “Like…” He swallows. “We both kind of knew this was going to happen eventually.”

“What? That you would disappear for three days after you told me you loved me to see your ex-girlfriend? I never knew that, actually.”

“She was never my girlfriend.”

“Someone who blogs about what I whore I am? And you love me?”

He inhales, pinching his nose. “I knew from the second I saw you that this would happen.”

“That
what
would happen?”

“That I wouldn’t be good enough.”

“Oh,
please
,” I shout. “You’re plenty good enough. I told you that you were good enough. If you had hung around for five seconds so I could have talked to you, I would have told you that, Hunter…But you decided to go see her. You were good enough. The only one who keeps comparing you to Danny is you.”

He inhales. “Please let me drive you home. And we can talk…”

“I don’t. I can’t do that right now. I have to go.”

“Pippa. Please.”

“Hunter, I said no.” I walk to the car without looking back. At least I didn’t start crying. I wonder if a blowout fight in a parking lot is more or less embarrassing than crying hysterically in a parking lot.

Probably more. It’s louder. Although at least I didn’t sit in a snow bank for this drama.

Lottie has the music turned on low. I’ve been such a bitch to Lottie. Because she was friendly with Laurel. And then, Hunter went to go see her. He left me in limbo to visit her and he can’t even tell me why. I stopped trusting Lottie for less.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I’m just such a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch,” she mumbles.

“I’ve been a huge bitch to you.”

“So have I,” she says softly.

I swallow thickly. “Did you know?”

“About Laurel and Hunter?” she sighs. “I knew—I know she’s still in love with him. I don’t think he’s ever been in love with her. Just likes the idea of it.”

“Did you know he went up there to see her?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that.”

She drives slow back to the lodge. I’m trying to calm down, trying to process what just happened, trying
not
to read the texts that Hunter’s sending me. “Should I break up with him?” I ask in a hushed voice. “Or did I just do that?”

She’s quiet. “I don’t know, Pippa.”

“Do you think he—he said he didn’t sleep with her…”

“I don’t know,” she bites her lip. “It’s probably not the same with you, but Laurel said he wasn’t very faithful.”

It’s probably not the same. Probably. Probably. What a slippery word. Easily could be.

“I mean, do you know what happened when he was in Europe?”

I swallow. “I don’t—he said nothing. He came back early because he said…I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

We reach the parking lot of the lodge and we park. I breathe. “Lottie.”

“What?”

“Can we go back to the way we used to be?” I say. I can’t lose Hunter and be alone. Selfish. I’m always selfish. But she drove me here and she didn’t have to. She chose me when I had nothing to offer her. And she’s a good friend, even if she fucked up. God knows I’ve fucked up too.

“I want to,” she says softly.

“Let’s try really hard.”

“Okay,” she says. She squeezes my hand. I feel physically exhausted from the fight with Hunter. And from not sleeping the night before. And from doing poorly in the race because I had been all over the place, wrapped up in him.

I’ve wanted to be an Olympic skier for a lot longer than I wanted to be Hunter Dawson’s girlfriend. And Hunter Dawson doesn’t even know what he wants.

Chapter Thirty-Four

When I wake up, I know I have to end things. I feel sick about the whole thing. Sick that he disappeared. Sick that he chose to be with Laurel when I was freaking out. And that he came back the way he did, drunk and demanding, like he could disappear, but if he needed me, he’d come get me.

It’s a short phone call.

“Pippa, can we please…”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say right now,” I say.

“Okay.”

“I think we need time apart.” I try and get the words out fast, but it still takes too long. “I don’t know if I trust you. Actually, I know that I don’t trust you right now and I can’t be worried about this when I’m trying to get sponsored.” I swallow. “I need to make this work. I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re breaking up with me?” he sounds tired, bored, and hungover. He sounds like I’m telling him I can’t go to coffee.

“I don’t really feel like I have a choice.”

“We all have choices, Pippa,” he says.

I swallow. “Then, I’m breaking up with you.”

“I’m not going to beg,” he says dismissively. “But I’ll say this. I didn’t cheat on you.”