Carry Your Heart (29 page)

Also, I don’t know what to say during my interview.

I could go for another run. Or go ski?

I sigh, deciding on that, because there aren’t any other options. My phone lights up:

Hunter:

so what’s your deal?

Me:

deal?

Hunter

I’m just confused, I guess

Me:

sounds like it

Hunter

?

I pocket my phone, not wanting to respond to a simple question mark. I’m insulted by it.

What are you trying to say with that question mark, Hunter?! Why? How? Where? Is that what it’s supposed to indicate? Is it something else? Are you confused? Trying to show off what you can do with your fucking iPhone? I’m not worth tapping out an actual question, is that it?

I take a deep breath.
Keep things in perspective, Pippa. It is just a question mark.

I’m really on a roll today. One-night stand with ex-boyfriend, hangover, walk of shame, lost underwear, misplaced best friend, nobody in contacts to call…I need to ski. I didn’t ski yesterday, and I feel like I have way too much energy coursing through my body. It needs a way out and the best way I know is skiing.

I hit the slopes decisively. Actively avoiding thinking of Laurel and of question marks.

Chapter Forty-Three

When Lottie finally returns from Mike, she looks like she never went out. I still look like I got hit by a truck. I hate everyone.

“I’m in love.”

“Isn’t it hell?” I say dryly. I smile at her. “Tell me about it.”

“So, his name is Mike,” she grins. “And, um, he is an aerial skier from Norway.”

“Mike from Norway?”

“I know! I thought that was weird.”

“Are you sure his name isn’t Sven?”

“Yes. He definitely said Mike, and we are going to dinner tomorrow,” she smiles broadly.

“Awesome.” I’m genuinely happy for her. I’m sorry for Joe, too, because I thought those two would get together. But I can’t blame her for not wanting to invest too much in it. Joe gives off a lot of mixed signals, and hasn’t made a move.

“How was Hunter?” she asks.

“A mistake,” I say.

“Oh, really? I’m sorry. You seemed…”

“His words, not mine,” I shake my head and swallow a gulp of water. “You know what he asked me when I woke up? So what should I do about Laurel?”

“Seriously?”

“Like, I don’t know what he should do about Laurel,” I say. “Can you imagine?”

“Well, maybe he was just confused.”

“He shouldn’t be confused. I told him I missed him. Lottie, I practically
proposed
. And he just said, I
can’t
. And then he saw me dancing with some guy and he decided, maybe he
could.
And then I slept with him, because I’m a drunk idiot and he’s worried about
Laurel
.”

She frowns. “That’s weird.”

I huff. “Let’s talk about Mike from Norway. I am totally over Hunter from Utah.”

She smiles.

“Mike from Norway is twenty-seven. He has two sisters. I’m obsessed with his abs.”

“Nice.”

Her voice softens. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

She smiles.

“I’m an idiot for getting involved with him. I didn’t think I would get so involved, or that he would be
this
noncommittal. You’d think if someone ignored you for six weeks, you’d get the idea, you know?” I say. I shake my head. “I need French fries.”

“We can order room service?” she suggests.

“I’m too embarrassed just to order plates of French fries to our room.”

“Well, get a grilled cheese and French fries or something.”

“Lottie, you’re a genius. I would starve to death without you.”

“Get me one, too.”

I pick up the phone and dial.

She slouches back into the room, jumping on the bed. “I think you need to talk to Hunter.”

“I can’t. It’s too fucking humiliating.”

“Why?”

“Because I like him more than he likes me,” I say. “Plus, we both said I love you and I think he regrets it.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You told him you loved him?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Wow. I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“Yeah, well, neither did he.”

She’s quiet. “Do you still love him?”

“I think I’m confused,” I say. I smile and shake my head. “I think…I don’t know.”

She looks at me sadly. “Well, if you don’t talk to him…”

I bite my lip. “I just can’t.” I shake my head.

Chapter Forty-Four

Laurel is here. I don’t see her. Lottie tells me at breakfast, when she gets back from the bathroom. She’s here. For Hunter, I assume. And she probably thinks I’m here to try and get him back.

“Don’t freak out,” Lottie says.

And then she walks through the lobby into the dining room, in dark jeans, clinging tight to her lean legs, her blond hair down nearly to her elbows in perfect, straight strands.

Hunter follows her, a few seconds later. We need a new hotel. I can’t stay here with the two of them. I just can’t. But he doesn’t go to sit with her. My wild heart slows and I allow myself to breathe.

He goes to sit with another woman, a brunette, about my age. Bile rises in my throat. Somehow, it’s not as bad as Laurel, but it’s still awful. There are three of us in one breakfast room. Maybe I’m the only one stupid enough to be looking for anything more than a one-night stand from him.

Lottie lifts a glass of orange juice to her lips. “I’m starting to want to kill this Dawson kid.”

“Tell me about it.” I swallow. The fact that he’s with her makes my skin crawl. He chose that over me. And he chose Laurel over me. And all of that wasn’t enough for me to get the fucking idea—that he’s just not into me.

He sees us. We see them. We don’t acknowledge each other, aside from stolen glances that last a second too long to be merely passing.

I lose my appetite completely. I’d expected that to happen today, but not at breakfast. And not because I felt physically ill with jealousy.

I’m meeting with the producers of Good Morning America today, to talk briefly about the kind of questions they’ll ask and so they can film me skiing.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Lottie advises, pointlessly because I’ve already been got. That charade is long over.

When I get up to leave, I glare at him, but he doesn’t bother to watch us go.

It’s not as bad as I think. The producers are professionals at putting people at ease, and it’s exactly what they do with me.
No specifics, nothing too personal, nothing invasive about Ryan or Danny.

I smile and nod. They’ll air a brief segment on the avalanche and on my career since. Then they’ll conduct a short interview, mainly discussing what I’ve overcome.

They make it sound so painless and so quick that I hardly allow myself any time to freak out.

What freaks me out, instead, is Hunter. I see glimpses of him everywhere, exiting the elevator in the lobby, turning around a corner at the snow center, dropping to one knee with a small fan for a photograph.

Aspen’s got to be the smallest mountain in the world, because I can’t seem to avoid him.

Lottie and Mike go to dinner, and I take the opportunity to lounge in the bathtub and put on one of the softer than a cloud robes that hangs on the back door of the massive bathroom. I order am obscene amount of food from room service. I leap up to answer the door.

I swing it open to see Hunter.

“What the fuck?”

“Hello to you, too,” he says, a wry little grin on his face.

“Can I come in?”

“Um, sure?”

He walks in.

“I’m guessing you don’t have an internship with the room service department.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says. “Want to order me something?”

“I already ordered.”

“What did you get me?”

I look at him. “You don’t want to have dinner with your breakfast date?”

“My publicist?” he says, raising his eyebrows. He chuckles. “You know, it’s a good thing that I’m not nearly as jealous as you. Joe would be toast.”

I exhale. She was his publicist.

“Can I order something or are you going to throw me out?”

I shrug. “Room service is pretty quick.”

He chuckles. I pick up the phone and hand it to him. He gets a cheeseburger.

“I want to talk to you,” he says.

“Well, that’s all that you’re getting,” I say meaningfully.

“Good, that’s what I’m here to do.”

I sit down on my bed and he sits down at the desk, putting his feet up and looking at me hungrily. He’s always had this way of looking at me, like he could see through to my beating heart and know all of my secrets before I said them out loud.

“What’s up with you?”

“That’s what you want to talk about. Nothing is up.”

“I mean, why are you here?”

“To do an interview on Good Morning America,” I say.

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“About what? The avalanche?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” he says it sarcastically. “Look forward to hearing about the most traumatic experience of my ex-girlfriend’s life with the rest of the country.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Nothing, sorry.” He bites a fingernail, a habit I’ve never noticed before. “So, what
was
the other night? Because you’re not answering my texts. Just a mistake? You were drunk and alone and I was around?”

“No. I missed you,” I say. “I told you that.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Okay,” I say.

“And then you just stormed out…”

“Because you started talking about Laurel…”

“Well, I’m confused!” he says, annoyed. “Jesus, Pippa, you expect the absolute worst from me. I just…” he swallows. “Look, you did a real number on me. I think you might have actually broken my heart. And I didn’t even know I had a heart, so that was
disturbing
.”

I bite my lip.

“No, don’t fucking laugh. I really was confused. You are like a bad hangover and I can’t get rid of it. And then, I thought—I thought you might want to get back together and then you stormed out when I tried to talk to you…”

“Because you brought up Laurel!”

“Only because I wanted to know if that was a one-time thing. Like, what do you want from me?” he asks.

“I want you to not have to ask me that question.”

“How can I not fucking ask that question? You broke up with me!”

“I wanted you to come after me,” I say. I bite my lip, surprised at my own honesty. I swallow. I don’t even know if I realized that’s why I broke up with him until right now. “I wanted you to fight for us.”

“Well, how was I supposed to…”

“You were supposed to just want to. I know that’s fucking stupid. But you ditched me for Laurel. I felt like I didn’t mean anything to you. I had to know what I meant to you. And you let me go and you didn’t even try to stop me…”

“Because you had broken my heart,” he replies. He doesn’t say it dramatically, just simply.

I look at him.

“Pippa, I was in
so
deep with you and it happened
so
fast,” he said. “And you wouldn’t let me in. And I thought that I didn’t matter to you. And you mattered to me so much it scared me. And you wouldn’t
talk
to me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Pippa, you get this look on your face and I know you are ten thousand miles away, thinking about Danny and the fucked up way he died, and Ryan, and I
know
that. And you won’t ever talk about. It’s like you’re not all there.”

“You don’t want to hear about that,” I explode.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he says simply and strongly as my blood boils. “I want to hear about that. Because you want to tell someone. I
know
you do. You cannot carry that shit around on your own. You’re the one who taught me that.”

“You don’t want to hear about it. Nobody…”

“I do.”

“No, you
fucking
don’t,” I repeat.

“Why don’t you try me?” he demanded, standing up. “Huh? Why don’t you at least give me a shot?”

“Because it’s too much.”

“Maybe I can handle it,” he said. “You handled it when it was me. When I had to tell you about my family, you
handled
it and I thought that was too much. I still think that’s too much, but I know it wasn’t as hard when I was with you, because you knew. And you
never
let me do that for you. You never let me in.”

“I’m telling you. You don’t want to hear it.”

“I do want to hear it,” he repeats insistently. He gets closer to me on the bed.

“Okay. You want to hear about it?” I ask, furiously. “You want to hear about how I found them? Is that what you want to hear? You want to hear about how Danny suffocated to death? He broke half the bones in his fucking hands trying to get out and I
found
him.” My voice goes ragged. “Do you want to know what Ryan looked like when I found him? How badly his neck was fucking broken?” I take a breath and realize I’m on the verge of throwing up. I close the bathroom door behind me and heave, through tears.

I spit and throw up again and he kneels behind me and puts my hand on his back as I retch again over the toilet. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I want to hear about it. I don’t want you to hide everything. I don’t need you to protect me.”

I flush the toilet and stomp over to the sink to brush my teeth. I see him standing behind me in the mirror, eyes soft, his hands cautiously going to my shoulders.

I manage to half-brush my teeth and wash out my mouth before my shoulders really start to shake against his hands and I lean forward on the bathroom sink. “Hunter, what I saw that day…I can’t go back there all the time. I have to forget it.”

“You have to trust that you can tell,” he whispers. “Because I want you. All of you.”

My hands are quivering, the vibrations going into my wrists and traveling up my arms, down my spine, until it feels like my whole body might not be able to take this.