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Eventually, though, he does say something. “What happened back there?”
The question doesn’t annoy me. Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s prying into my business. It doesn’t sound like he’s being nosey just for the sake of it, like he usually is.
It sounds like he can’t keep himself from asking, because he actually cares.
“I guess I had a panic attack,” I say. I don’t know if that’s, like, medically accurate. I haven’t talked to a doctor or anything to. Maybe I should. But what happened to me moments ago is what I always imagined a panic attack would feel like.
There’s a couple more beats of silence as we walk together. By now, the noise of the party has almost totally receded, and the night is calm and peaceful. There’s still a late summer warmth in the air, but a gentle and fresh breeze makes it a perfect temperature for a nighttime walk.
“Does that happen often?” he asks, his voice soft in a way I’ve never heard it before—except maybe for a couple days ago at the rink, after I told him why I came back from Maine.
I shake my head. “No.” The word comes out on a heavy sigh. “This is the second time it’s happened. The first time was a party I went to over the summer, back in Wynnhill.” Our hometown.
I can feel that Hunter wants to ask more, wants to know more. But, in a rare showing of tact, he holds his silence.
Which I should be thankful for. Heaven knows having this conversation with Hunter Landry when I haven’t talked about it with anyone else, not even my best friend, not even my parents, not even a doctor, wasn’t high on my wish list.
But, strangely … I suddenly feel that I want to tell him. I want to unburden myself. Just an hour ago, Hunter might have been the last person in the world I’d ever think of unburdening myself to, but right now …
“It’s because of my accident,” I say. “The car crash happened when we left from a party. I guess being at a party now just, I don’t know, triggers memories that make me …”
I don’t know how to finish the rest of that sentence, so I don’t try.
“You should talk to someone about it,” he says.
“You’re not someone?” I ask, feeling my lips curl into a small grin. It’s weak, but it’s still a grin.
He lets out a chuckle. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I know. You’re right. I should.”
Silence settles back over us. It’s almost like we’re old friends, rather than the lifelong enemies we really are.
Even though I’ve already shared more with Hunter than I ever intended to, there’s suddenly a pressure in my chest that feels like only sharing more will relieve.
“Have you ever … had absolutely no freaking idea what you’re going to do with your life?” The words spill out. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve always known it was going to be hockey.”
“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve always known. I’d be pretty screwed if I couldn’t play for whatever reason.”
“Yeah. Like I am.”
Suddenly, he stops. It takes me a pace to realize he’s no longer right next to me. I turn towards him.
He looks at me with utter seriousness in his eyes. “You’re not screwed, Phoebe.”
I blow out a laugh, and the sound is harsher and more dismissive than I intended it to be. “Yeah, right. You said it yourself. You dedicated your life to hockey, and you’d be screwed if that was taken away from you. Well, I dedicated my life to figure skating. And it was taken away from me. What’s left?”
A shock ripples through me as I feel Hunter’s huge, strong hand clasp around my small, dainty one. Even though it’s dark, the blue hue of his eyes is bright, and it feels like his intense gaze is boring into me.
“If I didn’t have hockey, I don’t know what Icoulddo,” he says. “But you … fuck, Phoebe. You’re smart. Dedicated. Ambitious. For as long as I’ve known you, which is most of our lives, you’ve been all those things and more. You can do anything.”
It’s something people have told me ever since I got news from the doctors that my career in competitive figure skating was over.
My parents told me. Casey told me. And over and over again, I’ve tried to tell myself.
For some reason, the first time Itrulyhear it, the first time the message doesn’t just go in one ear and out the other, is from my lifelong rival.
The first person who actually makes mebelieveit, is Hunter Landry.
