Carry Your Heart (18 page)

“Oh. Thanks.”

“He’s seen too much fighting,” Hunter mutters.

“Your dad?”

“Yeah…me and my dad. Me and Deirdre.” He shakes his head. “Me and pretty much everybody but Shane, to be honest.” He bites his lip. “Deirdre and my dad, too.”

“Deirdre’s your stepmom?”

“Ex-stepmom,” he says. He chews his lip. “They raised me though. Deirdre mostly. I was a handful. She did the best she could.”

“Where was your mom?”

“She sort of lost it.” He lifts a shoulder. “My dad didn’t want a kid. He was nineteen. My mom was a dropout. That’s why I’m Dawson, not Cannon. He refused to—he said I wasn’t his kid. And then he left. I was seven when child services made him take me. She was…strung out all the time. Couldn’t really take care of me. I flew back and forth for a while, but…” he inhales sharply. “Flew out there once when I was nine and she never came to the airport. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t really want to call my dad, so I just—stayed at the gate. I thought someone would help me out.” He shook his head. “It took two days for anyone to notice.”

“Jesus,” I say. “Hunter.”

“You’re sorry. I know,” he rubs his chin. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m sorry to drop this on you. That’s not…”

“You’re supposed to drop this on me,” I say. I reach for his hand and he lets me take it, lets me feel the tension in his fingers and lets me work it out of his hand, one by one.

He leans down and kisses my hands. His eyes are glassy, with anger or sadness or something, but I know this is hard for him.

“Where is she now?” I ask.

“My mom?” he shrugs. “Nevada. Reno.” He swallows. “With her parents. My grandparents. Not that—not that they’d ever admit to that, but…” He smiles shakily. “I always thought…” He hesitates. “I always thought he’d be better to Shane. I mean…Shane’s such a good kid. I was a little monster.” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, I’m you had to see that.”

“Was he like that? With you?”

“When I skied, yeah,” Hunter shrugs. “Worse. Or maybe it’s just even scarier when you’re little. But, he has a pretty short temper. At least, he doesn’t get violent with Shane. Deirdre wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“Did he get violent with you when you were little?” I ask. A quivering rage rises in my chest, feels like it might rise right out of me.

Hunter shrugs. “Sometimes, I don’t know. He didn’t ever beat the crap out of me or anything, he just has a shitty temper.”

“He shouldn’t have hit you.”

“I was a brat.”

“He still should have hit you.”

Hunter shrugs. “Probably deserved it.”

“No,” I say. “You didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Nobody deserves that. Especially not you. I know you,” I say. “You’re a good person. You were a good kid. No mater what trouble you got into, he shouldn’t have fucking hit you.”

Hunter smiles, swallowing thickly, and brushes away the faintest trace of a tear. He closes his eyes, squeezes them. “
Fuck
.” He presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, to keep from crying. “This is so not what I planned on doing with you today.”

I take his hands this time and kiss them. I rub my fingers over the calluses. I try to soothe him.

He sips his beer down shakily and orders a second one, but I don’t drink mine. I don’t have to. He’s all I really need right now.

He catches his breath and composes himself clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I say.

“Well, it’s not what you had in mind.”

“Who cares?” I say. “All I really had in mind for today was you.”

He looks at me. His green eyes shine brighter against the redness rimming them, but he holds his gaze steady. “I don’t want Shane to have to go through what I went through with him.”

“Your dad?”

“I just kept thinking, the next race it’d be enough and it never was. It takes it out of you, you know?” He shakes his head. “Even if you’re young—especially if you’re young.”

“Yeah.”

“Your dad wasn’t like that, though. Was he?”

He sounds hopeful. Strangely. Like maybe they were and I’d understand, like I can relate.

I shake my head. “No, he didn’t care that much about skiing. But, I know—Danny’s parents were like that, though. So I’ve seen it before. His dad at least.”

Hunter flinches when I say Danny’s name. I haven’t mentioned him to Hunter since he asked me about the avalanche. Even then, I think I just told him about the snow. He sits up a little straighter when I say it, like I’m revealing a secret.

“Danny thought, I don’t know,” I say. “He never realized that it was his dad, instead of him.” I rub my chin. “Not that his dad was evil or anything. He just wanted Danny to win. But Ryan always won. And they were best friends, and that was hard for Danny, too, because Ryan never could know how hard he was trying and how much pressure he was under…” I catch my breath realizing I’m starting to talk about Danny, that I
am
talking about Danny, that I never talk about him with anyone, and Hunter is alive and in real pain.

This isn’t what Hunter needs to hear right now, I remind myself.

“Anyways,” I say, trying to wrap up the digression. “I know how it works, I guess. If you don’t get away from it.”

He nods. He swallows thickly. “Yeah. I remember Ryan.” He smiles. “My dad always wanted to know why I couldn’t beat Ryan either.”

I give him a half-hearted little grin. “He was special.”

“Yeah,” Hunter nods. “I really shouldn’t complain. Jesus.”

“No,” I say. I shake my head. “That has nothing to do with this. Or with Shane. They died. It was a horrible accident. It doesn’t make having a bully for a dad any easier.”

He takes a long sip of his beer and sets it down on an angle, spinning it thoughtlessly in his hands. “Sometimes I think I should just call my lawyer and file for custody.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Not that I have any idea how to go about raising a kid, but, he seems so
fucking
sad all the time and I have all this fucking money and I want to help, and there’s nothing I can do.” He bites his lip. “It makes me crazy.”

“Do you think your dad’s going to hurt him?”

“I don’t know. No. No, not physically anyways.” He bites his lip and sighs. I’m seriously pissed off at Doug Cannon. Ten years ago, I had his poster tacked to my bedroom wall, and ten years ago, from the sound of it, he was terrorizing the hell out of my boyfriend.

I need to get rid of that fucking poster.

He breathes and exhales against the booth. “Deirdre has custody most of the time. And my dad’s, you know, pretty checked out. Unless, it’s skiing.” He glances at the window and back at me. “
Anyways
, enough of that.”

“Hey. I’m glad you told me,” I say softly. He smiles gently at me like he doesn’t totally believe me, but he appreciates that I’m saying it.

***

He has a few more beers and I drive back. The car rides smooth and fast, and we’re back to the lodge before long. We don’t say much—both of us are tired from the day.

He kisses me fiercely in the elevator, before we reach his door. And he has his hand underneath my shirt once we’re inside. His hands are rough and cool on my skin. I can feel every callus against my ribs, he goes over them slowly, like he’s counting them, like he’s memorizing me.

Hunter usually laughs, during sex, usually finds a place to bite or lick that makes me giggle, tells me how much he likes me and can’t help but smile. But tonight, as the afternoon light fades to dusk, he doesn’t turn on the lights and say that he wants to see me. He lets the room go dark. He kisses my neck and my face. Each kiss feels like a message.

He slides one hand down my leg and looks right at me. He closes his eyes and his kiss is so soft, and his movement so slow, and they go on and on and on, his breath warm on my neck, his hands able on my melting muscles, my arching spine, and I hold onto the whisper that’s trying to escape in high and nearly incoherent gasps of air. I hold onto it, and say it without using any words. Say it only in my head while my fingers dig into his shoulders.
I love you, I love you, I love you.

Chapter Twenty-One

Training picks up ferociously before the week off for Christmas. Mike has a renewed sense of urgency after my total fuckup at Jackson and Lottie’s chewing on the fact that Penelope just broke a course record back east at Stowe, VT.

But, the runs get steeper, tougher, and Mike has less and less tolerance for my mistakes.

“Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy,” he shouts when I come down a run on my heels.

He’s riding me so hard, I think I’m going to slap him.

I collapse in bed with Hunter and he just laughs at me when I tell him I think my career is over. “You’ve been gone for a year. You’ve been back a month…”

“I’m going to fucking murder Mike Ames,” I mutter.

He laughs. “You’re getting psycho again.”

“I
am
not.”

“I could tell you were a psycho from the second I lay eyes on you. I was like. Do not get in her way. Do
not
.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He rolls over me. “That could be arranged.”

“Really?”

“Mm…yeah. I might be able to work something out for you,” a grin cracks across his face and he drops his head to my collarbone, to my clavicle which he kisses gently.

His tongue was warm and soft on me.

“I’m too sore to have sex,” I mumble.

“Okay, fine, we’re going to murder Mike Ames, in that case,” he says darkly, sitting up. He looks down at me, mischief in his eyes and on his lips. “He needs to die.”

I love when he looks at me like this.

“Fuck, for the first time in my life, I do not want to go to Europe,” he says, throwing his head back.

“What are you doing out there?” I ask as he falls on his back. I roll over straddling him.

“You don’t look that sore.”

“Let me get warmed up.”

He grins. “Backcountry.”

The word sends a chill up my spine. I know what backcountry with a video crews means.

Helicopters. Extremity. Recklessness.

Dozens of talented young men trying to top one another. None of them will pay attention to the dangers you can find on untouched powder. No matter how many horror stories they hear.

You never believe the worst thing can happen to you, until it does.

He runs his hands under my shirt and pulls it over my head.

“You’re going to be careful,” I say.

He laughs. “I won’t get in too much trouble.”

I bite my lip. He leaves in two days. And I’m going to be sick for most of it. I run my hands through his hair. It’s so soft. So real. I used to do this with Danny’s hair. I remember the way his warmth felt under my hands and I flinch suddenly. I sit back on my heels.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“Hunter, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.”

He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me, Pippa Baker.” He smiles and leans forward, kissing me softly. He crosses his heart and kisses my nose. “I promise.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

He hugs me close to him at the airport, kisses my hairline, and makes me promise to text him when I land. We had decided not to give each other gifts. We went shopping for Shane instead, trying to find the best video games for a 12-year old.

I start missing him at the gate. I want to turn around and tell him to take me with him.

Instead, I board my plane, and watch as Utah becomes a postage stamp beneath me and I’m on my way to Colorado, thinking about Hunter and distance and time.

There will be people to see in Colorado, things to catch up on, friends to laugh with, my dad to wrap my arms around. But, just as I started learning how to stop missing the one person I’d never get back, I found a new person to miss. And
God
, do I miss him.

I feel the last touch of his lips against my hair like a tattoo. I touch the place and send him my love.
I still haven’t told him I’m in love.

***

“Tell me everything,” Court says in her bedroom. Trevor sulks in a corner, not that I can blame him. He can’t fly home to California. His parents said he wasn’t welcome and Dean has been working twelve-hour days at the hospital, with little time or energy to spare for Trev.

Courtney’s parents are the sweetest people in the world, but it can’t be nice to be a houseguest at Christmas because your parents told you not to come home because, as far as they’re concerned, you’re dead to them. He won’t talk about it. Even though Dean’s been checking in regularly, Courtney and I are both worried about him.

“Well, I think I’m love with Hunter I say.” I bite my lip. It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud and Courtney’s eyes widen.

“Oh my god! I want to be a pro skier and fall in love with a guy named Hunter. Tell me more.”

“Is this the snowboarder?” Trevor asks. “I also want a snowboarder. All I have is a doctor who is too busy to see me.”

There’s not much to say when things are going well, I realize. The secrets he’s told me are for only me to know, and the things that bother me—Laurel, the way Lottie’s treated me, the blogs—they all seem so small once I start talking about him. About how much older than me he seems sometimes, and about how much fun he can have.

Even the way he hunches his shoulder when he’s having a beer.
God
, everything about him just
gets
me.

Courtney and Donovan broke up—that is “if we were ever even together,” she says darkly.

I wince. “That sucks.”

“Totally,” she agrees. “But at least I know now.”

Trevor flops down on her bed.

“How’s Dean?”

He shrugs. “Fine. Busy. You know. Med school.”

Courtney frowns at him. “You love Dean, Trevor.”

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “But when you come out of the closet for someone, and he’s not around when your family says they don’t want you coming home fro Christmas, it feels pretty shitty.”

Court bites her lip for a moment. “But he didn’t
force
you out.”

I can tell they’ve had this argument before from the way Trevor huffs. “No, he did. He said he couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t open. And so I went public…”