Carry Your Heart (6 page)

When we collect our trays and go to get food, Lottie stays close by.

“Ugh,” I grumble, seeing Hunter Dawson, sitting at a table. “I flew here with him.”

“Hunter Dawson?” she smiles. “I’m jealous.”

“No, you really shouldn’t be. He said I was a lost cause.”

She giggles. “He’s kind of a jerk.”

“Kind of?”

“Maybe really a jerk. You know he used to be a skier?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“I mean, a
really
long time ago—like, maybe before middle school even,” she says.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he snowboards now.”

Lottie smiles at me. “You’re pretty sure Hunter Dawson snowboards now?”

“Yeah. He had one on the plane. Thought someone was going to lose it.”

She laughs. “God, you’ve missed a lot. Pippa, he practically swept the X-Games last year. He’s one of the best snowboarders in the country.”

“Seriously?” I look at him. He seems way too pretty to be an extreme snowboarder.

She laughs again. “I mean, not that I expect you to follow snowboarding or anything, but he’s like a
big
deal. He was dating that girl from
The Real World Portland.
”

“What girl?”

“Oh, come on, you know the girl. From
Real
World
.”

“That’s still a thing?”

“
Mackenzie
! He dated Mackenzie from Real World.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“She’s blonde from Charleston—the one who faked a pregnancy and went through a lesbian phase with Gabrielle? Oh my god,
seriously
, what have you been doing for the past year and a half? Don’t tell me you’ve gone in for
Teen Mom 2
.”

“
Hoarders
actually. Also,
Duck
Dynasty
.”

“You cannot abandon
The Real World
,” Lottie says sternly. “It’s like the only thing we ever had in common.”

I laugh at her indignation.

“Anyways, dreamboat Dawson over there dated her. I saw them in
People
. Or maybe it was
US Weekly
. Not the cover or anything, but that’s your kind of magazine, so you should really be up on this stuff. They broke up because he thought she was doing too much yoga.”

I sneak a look at Hunter and glance back at Lottie.

“Yoga?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess he doesn’t look like he does any yoga.”

“Exactly. Apparently, Mackenzie thought yoga was her boyfriend and Hunter just couldn’t handle it. And so, he was like,
I can’t handle this anymore, Mackenzie
and they broke up. And then apparently, to blow off steam, he went to a strip club and she was heartbroken because she thought they had a real
connection
. Some also suspected she cheated on him with someone real, not with a an activity like yoga. Maybe a yoga teacher, although this is purely my speculation. But we’ll probably never know the truth. And he probably has diseases because he’s kind of a whore and had a whole thing with Laurel back in the day. But he’s nice to look at.”

Laurel. Laurel is the kind of girl who can give you a panic attack even if you haven’t seen her for a year and she’s miles and miles away. I never thought I would be jealous of her. But, for the first time I hear her name and I don’t think
what a psycho
, but
what the hell did he see in her?

“Hello? Come on. I
know
you care about Mackenzie.”

I laugh. “I’ll have to catch up on that season.”

Lottie and I used to spend 30 bucks on candy and tabloids at every airport we went to. We became fluent in our own language of gossip. Whenever she was pissed off at me, she would start defending Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, and my head would start to explode. And whenever I was annoyed with her, I’d tell her I had a lot of respect for Ke$ha.

Lottie, plate stacked high with salad and salmon, marches past Hunter deliberately towards an empty table.

“Hey,” he says, looking up—looking at me.

“Hi.”

“Want to sit?”

I’m not so much of a bitch as to leave anyone eating dinner alone by himself in a cafeteria at the age of 21. I went to middle school, after all. I know how fucking miserable cafeteria politics could be, and even if Hunter Dawson was a reality star-dating X-Games champion, I wasn’t going to leave him feeling rejected and bullied over an off-the-cuff comment he’d already apologized for.

Lottie smiles.

“This is Lottie Miller.”

“Hunter Dawson,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Nobody’s here, huh?”

“Yeah, well. It’s a quite mountain,” Lottie says. “Things will pick up this weekend.”

“You race?”

Lottie nods. “Yup.”

“Ames is your coach?”

“Yup.”

He smiles at her drawling
yups
and the way she sways her head from side to side. “So, I have a question. What the fuck do you girls do on this mountain by yourselves?”

“
Oh
...we ski. It’s like these long things you attach to your feet and then you go down the mountain. Try not to fall. I think we talked about this in the van,” I say.

He smiles at me and laughs.

“No, I just mean…” he smiles. “I used to train in Whistler. There’s a lot of people around, there’s a town. It’s pretty dead out here, you know?”

“It’s a mountain. It’s for skiing. And snowboarding. What did you have in mind?

He shrugs. “Honestly? Fucking anything.” He turns to look at me. “Joe!” He shouts across the cafeteria at another skier, one I knew from races—Joe Byrne. He lopes over—short and densely muscled, Joe’s a U.S. champion who has broken both his ankles twice. You’d never guess. He doesn’t walk; he springs on the balls of his feet like Tigger.

“Hey, kids,” Joe says. His eyes settle on me. “Holy shit, Pippa Baker. It’s good to see you.” He puts his tray next to Hunter’s and pulls out my chair and yanks me onto my feet and into a warm, crushing hug.

“Holy fucking shit,” Joe repeats. He looks at me when he lets me go. “Where the hell have you been?”

“College,” Lottie says.

“Really? What’s your major?”

“I’m
not
sure. Physical therapy, maybe.”

Joe stares at me. “You gonna be able to keep up with that while you’re doing this?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m doing this kind of as a one-off. We’ll see how it goes.”

Joe smiles. “Yeah right.”

“What?”

“I know you.”

“And?”

“You’re going to do one race and just head out?” Joe laughs. “Come on. That’s totally unrealistic.”

“I’m not that competitive.”

Lottie and Joe both burst out laughing.

“I’m not,” I tell Hunter, the only one still listening.

“Nah, you look kind of psycho, Phillippo. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.” The grin playing on his face suggests he’s gotten he’s confidence back enough to tease me.

“I thought I looked like a lost cause.”

He keeps smiling, albeit a little less broadly. “I told you. I’m a douchebag. Nobody should listen to me.”

Joe glares at Hunter. “How have you already been a douchebag to her?”

“She met me at an airport. On an airplane in fact.”

“Ah, then it doesn’t count,” Joe smiles. “He’s terrified of flying.”

“I’m not terrified of it. I just don’t like it. I don’t like spinach, either—doesn’t mean I’m fucking terrified of it.”

Joe grins. “Total nutcase about it. He always tries to get himself kicked off the plane so he has to drive.”

“That’s not true.”

“That is absolutely true. Denver, Whistler, Jackson—every single time I’ve flown with you, you’ve tried to get kicked off the flight. You have a straight-up phobia of planes.”

“I’m not—whatever,” Hunter shakes his head.

“I have a serious question,” Lottie says.

Hunter smiles slightly and turns his green eyes to look at her. It gives me the opportunity to stare at him without him knowing. He reaches down for his fork and using it to gesture says: “Shoot, Lottie. I’m all ears.”

There’s something adorable about the way he says it, the way he smiles, holding the fork, swiveling it around in one hand, that makes me want to interrupt, so I can be the one talking to him.

I realize that I am developing a mild crush on this infuriating person. You know what that is?
Annoying
. That I’m even capable of having a crush on someone so unlike Danny—so much louder and more abrasive—suggests that I have finally lost it. Really, completely lost it.
You cannot like someone like this.
After eighteen months of certainty that Danny was the single love of my life—a few sentences, most of them not very nice—and I have a crush on Hunter fucking Dawson.

I swallow thickly.
Danny, Danny, Danny.

But I can’t even imagine what Danny would say about this. So, he doesn’t say anything. I can’t quite conjure up a mental image of him smiling.

“What are you doing in Snowbird? If you’re so bored and there’s no competition…” Lottie asks.

He rolls his shoulders. “Had to get out of Whistler for a bit.”

“Why?”

He shrugs again. “Just felt like trying something new. Got itchy.”

“Itchy?”

He smiles. “When I get itchy, I usually get into trouble. And I’m trying not to fuck anything up this year, so…” He glances at Joe. “I guess Mike thought hanging with a bunch of skiers would help. Plus, my family’s nearby.”

He turns back to look at me and his phone starts to ring. He lets it ring before he pulls it out of his pocket, glances at it, puts it to his ear, and leaves the table, taking his tray and dropping it off at a window.

Joe watches him go.

“What’s the real deal with him?” Lottie asks conspiratorially. “Does it have to do with
The Real World Portland?
”

Joe lifted his shoulders. “No clue. He had a big falling out with his coach last year after the X-Games.”

“Over what?”

Joe shrugs again. “Beats me. He’s a pretty mysterious kid. Bad temper. Wouldn’t be surprised if he just blew up and fired him after he lost on the half-pipe.”

Lottie nods. She looks at me and back to Joe. “Half-pipe. Hm. Fascinating. So, do you know why he broke up with Mackenzie?”

Joe grins. “Did you get the memo about being a mysterious kid?”

“Yeah, but…” Lottie rolls his eyes. “Nobody who dates a reality star can be that mysterious.”

Joe rolls his eyes. “Trust me, Lottie. This kid is
that
mysterious.” He shakes his head. “So, Pip?”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to kill it this weekend right?” Joe asks.

I’m getting nervous for the races already. I smile at him. “We’ll see. It’s been a while.” I look around. “I actually should go find Mike. He wants to talk to me.”

I ditch my tray and head down to the lockers to cut back to the athletes’ lodge where we’re all staying. I stop before I turn a corner for a long, deserted stretch of hall.

“Look, Deirdre, I don’t know what to tell you,” I heard Hunter’s voice reverberating off of the walls.

“No…you
cannot
let have Shane for that long. You know how he gets….” his voice trails off. “Deirdre, listen to me, I swear to God, if Shane goes to live with him…well, then why are you calling me and asking about it? I came out here so I could be close to him…”

Even all this distance away from him, I can hear him sighing heavily. “Look, let me talk to Shane…no, put Shane on the phone now.”

His voice changes dramatically.

“Hey, buddy—how are you?”

I shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this conversation. I know it innately—from the urgency in Hunter’s voice, to the fact that he came down here, out of sight and earshot to have it.

“Yeah? That’s great. You like the new school…uh-huh…good. Good…that’s really great. Listen, kid, you know you can call me whenever. Right? I’m not far now…” He chuckles at something Shane says. “Hey—if you want to come live with me, I can make that happen, too. That’s totally cool.”

I wonder who he’s talking to. His kid? I try to do the math quickly, but I realize I have no idea how old Hunter is and I definitely don’t know how old the kid that he’s talking to is.

“Love you too, buddy. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

I don’t realize that the conversation is over and he’s headed back for me until he turns the corner and sees me, trying to backpedal out of view like a total fucking creeper.

His eyes darken as he walks back towards me. “Hear anything interesting, Baker?”

“N-no,” I manage to say. “I was walking back from dinner and…”

He gives me a slight, utterly disgusted nod. “Right.” His glare doesn’t lessen as he breezes past me and I hear his footsteps up the staircase, heavy and fading away.

Shit
.

I mean, he has every right to be absolutely irate.

Although, I didn’t mean to listen in. And I’m not even sure what I heard, only that it obviously was a private conversation.

I trek back to my room—head spinning. Hunter. Shane. Someone named Deirdre. Green-eyed, dark-haired, smoldering hot Hunter Dawson.

I lay in bed thinking of him—trying not to, and failing not to. And when I think of Danny, it feels like his face is slipping away from me. And I’m going to be on a mountain tomorrow. I’m going to have to be back in skis.

“I miss you,” I whisper to Danny. And then, imaging how Ryan used to joke about being the third wheel. “I miss you, too.”

Chapter Six

Sleep came slowly and briefly the night before my first day back on skis. Breakfast was a real nonstarter, although I choked down a cup of coffee.

Plus, I think I have altitude sickness. It never used to bother me, but I used to live on mountains, so it’s no wonder my body needs to readjust. My head throbs slightly and my limbs feel weary.

Mike tells me take it easy. “Just get a feel for it again.”

I nod—navigating my way to the lift with him. I’m surprised what comes back so naturally to me. I don’t know what I expected—maybe that I would feel like I was learning to skate for the first time. But, the snow feels fine. On the flat, easy slope before the lift, I feel totally in control.