Chapter Nine

Bundling into my winter jacket, I exited out the side door of the museum, stars already dancing in the crisp dark evening air. Twinkling lights and holiday decorations trimmed most of the buildings and piazzas, creating a fairy-tale atmosphere in the city. I had fallen head over heels in love with Florence.

I walked briskly toward the Piazza della Repubblica, where happy hour called my name after a long day. My feet and back ached, and my hip was throbbing from running around. I was looking forward to a glass of wine and relaxing.

“Jayme!” A hand waved me over to a bistro table in the cozy restaurant.

“Colleen. Hey!” I grinned, hugging her before falling in the chair across from her. “You already order?”

“Of course.” She winked with a cunning grin. This was our ritual on Thursday evenings. Even though she was thirty-two, we got along well and had become really good friends the past six months.

“How is the Accademia Gallery?” she inquired. “Is Caterina still running you ragged?”

Pulling off my coat, I huffed. “She is ruthless.”

“But you love it.” Colleen winked.

A smile split my lips. “I do.”

“I am so glad I submitted your name,” Colleen replied, smiling as the waiter came to our table, where he set down the bottle of wine and antipasto platter we always shared, which consisted of various local olives, cheeses, meats, and breads. My mouth watered seeing the delicious food. “And from what I heard, no matter how much Caterina grumbles, they love you there. I keep hearing them sing your praises.”

Pride ballooned in my chest.

The application for the internship had been brutal. Only eight out of hundreds of applications were chosen each year for the program, so when Colleen called me at the end of August telling me of my acceptance, I almost fainted.

My bags had been packed, my family set for my return to the States. Everything changed in that moment. I thought my parents would fight it, but my father was coming to terms with the truth that I wasn’t going into medicine or physical therapy. When I added this was an internship people would die for, they had not argued.

The internship was supposed to be three days a week, plus every other weekend, because most of us still were also going to school. But I took fewer classes and worked at the museum almost every day. What I learned there could never be taught in a classroom. And because I was so dedicated, I was chosen a lot to help with special projects very few got to even get near. The week before, Angelo, one of the conservators, asked me to assist him on restoring a Lorenzo Bartolini sculpture. I won’t deny there were some tears, possibly some squealing and deep breathing when I entered the restoration room. To be allowed so close to history, helping preserve it for future generations, made my heart thump with the thrill. The piece felt alive, like it held centuries of stories. A few times, I swear I could feel Bartolini guiding me, appreciating our dedication to keeping his passion and name alive.

Angelo was a sweet little Italian man who had been there for forty years and was a fountain of information who enjoyed sharing his knowledge. Thirteen hours passed, and I had hardly noticed, so happy to absorb everything I could from him.

With our glasses filled, Colleen and I saluted and sipped the delicious wine.

“Your family still coming for Christmas?” Colleen placed some bruschetta the waiter set on the table on her plate, licking her fingers.

“Yeah.” I nodded, serving myself from the shared plates. “In two weeks. Excited to see them… especially Reece. Every time she Facetimes me, I swear she’s grown another inch. Miss that squirt so much.”

Mom, Dad, Reece, and both sets of grandparents were coming. Grandma Nessa suggested it, bought tickets for my parents and sister as a surprise, and begrudgingly added Grandma Penny when my mom mentioned her. The only thing that would have made it perfect was having Stevie come too, but her mother wouldn’t let her go anywhere but home. She was back at school acting like the same old Stevie, claiming to be happy with her one-night stands, a job at a record store, and friends in New York, but I felt something lacking. Like she was playing the part of “Stevie.”

Neither one of us even hinted about Hunter or Chris, and we steered clear of all topics that might lead to them. It was better that way. The night in the bar four months ago when I saw Hunter on TV had been a turning point for me. I didn’t deny I would always love Hunter and wished him well. It took a lot of time to even see past the pain, but I got through it. I was truly happy with myself and in love with my life. Italy had changed me.

Once I’d gotten over the worst of my heartbreak, I went a little crazy at first, living it up every moment of the summer with Sammie. We traveled most weekends to places like Amsterdam, London, Paris, and Barcelona, taking advantage of the cheap weekend deals and youth hostels filled with kids our age. I would never apologize for what I did or who I had been with. It was how I dealt with all the pain I had been holding on to since the car accident, and I let it go.

“Are you going to introduce them to Luca?” Colleen winked, taking another pull of her wine.

“No.” I rolled my eyes, chuckling. “You know it’s not that serious between us.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirked, her lips stained from the red wine.

Luca was a curator at the museum, and we had been casually seeing each other for a few weeks now. He was tall, dark, and sexy as hell, especially when he whispered Italian into my ear. I loved his dark mop of hair and deep chocolate eyes. He was even hotter when he wore his glasses and talked about art like it was his other lover. The Italians I had met were all about love, but I didn’t think Caterina or any of the staff would appreciate what we had done in some of the restoration rooms in the back. We tried to act like nothing was going on, but everyone knew.

Of course, one of the other interns had made a remark that screwing him was why I got special treatment. No, it was because I worked my ass off.

“Cristian and I want you and your non-boyfriend to come over for dinner one night. I think I finally mastered his mother’s carbonara sauce.”

“Dinner? Like a double date?”

“You’ve been ‘seeing’ him for weeks.” She coughed, emphasizing that word. “Come on, you two are pretty much a couple.”

That word tightened a lasso around my neck. What I wanted was the opposite of a relationship. I didn’t want a boyfriend. I wanted fun. My heart was not open to anything past that.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” I stirred in my seat. “Let’s see where we are in a month.”

“Fine.” She nodded, finishing her glass. “I need to get home soon. I’ve been married for three years, but my mother-in-law is suddenly on a quest to teach me to cook. Like if she doesn’t, her baby boy will starve.” She flicked her eyes in annoyance. “You heading home?”

“No, I promised to meet Sammie for a drink.” Like me, Sammie didn’t go home after the summer was over. She managed another semester abroad, loving this place too much to leave. We stayed roommates, but I hardly saw her. I barely saw anyone except the people at the museum.

I wiped my mouth, setting my napkin on the plate, knowing Colleen had already covered the bill. She knew how broke students were and said this was her weekly treat where we could catch up.

“Always good seeing you.” Colleen and I hugged before I headed back out into the night, gliding contentedly through the city. I loved everything was so walkable and everyone was outside, not hiding in their homes watching TV like most did back home. Kids, grandparents, lovers, friends, everyone was always enjoying this beautiful city and talking to each other.

The loud American bar jangled against my nerves. I had no desire to go in, but Sammie was a big football fan, and this was one of the only places she could watch her team play. As I predicted, she already sat at the bar, a beer in one hand, her eyes locked on the action happening on the screen.

“Hey, girl.” I slipped into the stool next to her.

“Oh my god, Jayme!” She hugged me, her arms strangling my throat. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I don’t even know what year it is any more.” I laughed, sitting back in my chair.

“Seriously, you work too hard.”

“Yeah, but I love it.” I motioned to the bartender. He smiled, pouring me a cider without even asking and slid it in front of me with a nod. Yeah, we had come here a lot in the summer.

“My stepmom called,” Sammie huffed. “She says my father and she want me to come home for the holidays. I don’t want to go… I’m not ready.”

“There’s no way they’ll let you stay one more semester?”

“Yeah, right.” Her shoulders drooped. “They had a hissy fit I stayed this time. The thought of going back to a house with my horrid stepbrothers who live to torture me, and my stepmom who pretends she cares but only ridicules me about losing weight or dressing better is horrifying.”

I knew enough from our talks that her father was nice but passive; he let the stepmom rule the house. He’d probably be okay with her staying, but if the stepmonster said no, then Sammie was going back home.

“I’m sorry.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t want you to go either.”

Sammie’s eyes glistened with tears, but she shook them away, taking a swig of her beer and returning her attention to the game. “Just this game, then we can go. I know you don’t watch football.”

It was ironic that football had once been a world I revolved around, not able to escape it for a moment. Sammie had no idea I knew everything about the game or I’d spent hours of my life cheering for it, watching it, and talking about it. Now I wanted nothing to do with it. It only reminded me of that old life. The old Jayme.

“No worries.” I sat back, glancing over the other screens, my gaze halting on the one in the corner.

Oh. God. No. Not again.

AMA Supercross Championship filled the TVs, bikes racing around the track behind the logo. I thought I was free and clear of him. But like a snake, this reminder of Hunter sprang out at me, piercing the air in my lungs.

“Can you turn it up?” a guy yelled over at the bartender, leaning on the bar next to me. “It’s the final tonight.”

The bartender shrugged, inching up the volume enough for us to hear it.

“Local boy. He’s fucking amazing.” The young American college guy nudged my arm, flicking his head to the display. “The guy in first, The Haze, is from a couple towns over from mine.”

I couldn’t respond, swallowing the lump expanding in my throat. I had been proud of myself, thinking I was cured of Hunter Harris, only to find out what every other addict learns: you are never cured of a craving. You just learn to live with it.

“Always been a fan of supercross, but having one of your own on top makes it better,” he continued, grinning, like he thought he impressed me with his knowledge.

Buddy, little do you know.

“The guy is a newbie but is now outranking the reigning world champion. Talk about an underdog story.” He leaned on his elbows, his attention on the TV. “I’m Trevor, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Jayme,” I replied politely and centered my attention on the event as the commentator began to speak onscreen.

“The last race of the season is next. Everything has come down to this final run,” the ESPN commentator said dramatically, the guys’ statistics and pictures filling up the display. “Hunter ‘The Haze’ Harris and Jeremy ‘Razor’ Thompson are neck and neck… Their scores are so close that a simple mistake could be enough to rip the championship title away from one of them.” The camera snapped back to the commentator. “The rumor is these two have butted heads on and off the course the last couple of months. The tension between them has risen, coincidently, since Hunter started showing he could take this title away from last year’s champion. Whether it’s true or not has made for some exciting races, and I doubt this last one will disappoint.”

The camera cut away from the reporter, scanning the riders prepping behind the gate, then zoomed in on the VIP area where friends and family watched. It zeroed in on a woman holding a toddler with child-size earphones over his head, bright blue eyes, dark hair, and a grin dimpling his left cheek.

Oh my god. Cody no longer looked like a baby as I remembered him but a tiny version of his father.

“Aww, and look who’s here to support his daddy. This little guy has become a permanent fixture on the tour lately. And the crowd has fallen in love with him,” the commentator said. The camera zoomed in on the pair. In tight jeans and a T-shirt, Krista’s blonde hair flowed down her arms. She waved at the camera as she peered at Cody, encouraging him to wave with her. She had always been pretty, but now she looked beautiful, confident, happy… like she belonged there.

“Hunter’s girlfriend, Krista, and his son, Cody, have become crowd favorites since they’ve come on tour with Hunter. Such a little character.” The reporter’s voice talked over the footage on them. “You can tell that little boy loves watching his daddy ride.”

The pieces of my heart I’d thought healed now burned into ash, my head aching as tears built inside. They’d joined him on tour? Was she really his girlfriend, or did they assume in the same way they did that Cody was his child? Shit. If you didn’t know Hunter had a twin, Colton, there was no way you wouldn’t think Hunter was the father. Cody was a spitting image of him.

“Actually, if my sources are right, I heard she might soon be his fiancée,” the pundit said, his statement freezing me in place, a desert drying out my throat. “They make an adorable family, and I know that little boy is excited to be here. Like we all are.”

Fiancée? No, please say I heard wrong.

Air. I needed air… But I couldn’t move. My thoughts and body were no longer connected. The clock hit zero in Joyce’s hands, and she stepped off the track as the gates dropped. The bikes rushed onto the course, like the bulls in Spain, barreling toward the first turn.

Number eight darted out first, curving the dirt like glass.

“Fuck yeah. He’s got the lead spot,” Trevor cheered.

“Called a holeshot,” I muttered, no emotion reaching my voice.

The guy turned to me and elbowed my arm, a flirty smile on his mouth. “Look at you, knowing about supercross.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Kinda.”

Not only do I know more than you, it could have been me there supporting him.

You chose to walk away, Jayme. You don’t have a right to be upset.

Tell that to my heart. Tell my heart not to crumble under the idea Krista and Hunter are together. Possibly engaged! Wine and cider churned in my stomach, the scrumptious food turning sour.

I had foreseen it. I had known this would be the outcome, no matter what path I chose. Krista and Cody were meant to be Hunter’s family. As much as my soul felt like Hunter was mine, he never was.

“Holy. Shit!” Trevor’s voice rang out, jolting me from the sorrow sucking me into a pit, my gaze snapping to the TV.

A rider made a block pass as they rounded a corner. I had seen the move done before, during my first time watching Hunter race when Zack caused him to crash and took him out of a race.

My mouth dropped as I watched the rider blatantly ram into Hunter, trying to cut him off, swerving into Hunter’s bike.

“Oh no!” the correspondent yelled as the wheels on Hunter’s bike came out from under him, tossing him into the dirt, his bike crunching down on him. Horror coated my tongue, a scream catching as motorbikes unable to get out of the way in time crashed or ran over him, twisting into a pile of machines and bodies heaped upon him.

“No!” I shrieked, my feet hitting the floor, terror scraping my lungs. “Hunter!”

The announcer’s loud panicky voice tunneled in my ear saying words I no longer understood, my mind shutting down.

Emergency crews ran out onto the track, dozens of bent motorcycles and bodies overwhelming the handful of EMTs.

“Oh god… Hunter…” I wailed, not caring everyone around me stared at me like I was crazy. They had no idea the boy I still loved was deep underneath. Trapped.

Possibly dead.

“Can you see him? Is he okay?” My high-pitched voice carried through the bar, my anguish desperate for any reassurance as I searched everyone’s faces.

“I-I don’t know…” Trevor waggled his head, stepping away from me, my reaction to the accident alarming him.

“Jayme?” Sammie touched my shoulder, whipping my head to her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I whimpered, staring back at the TV. “I need to know he’s okay. Please tell me he’s all right.” Tears slipped down my face as more emergency crews ran onto the track. A few of the riders got up and limped away, but still Hunter was buried too far under to see him.

The remains of the accident took me back to that hot night more than fourteen months ago. The agony, the pain, and heart-wrenching loss. The squealing of tires, the crunch of metal and bone.

No. Not again. I can’t lose another Harris. I can’t lose him.

“Do you know him?” Sammie asked. “I don’t understand? What is going on?”

“Is this live or taped?” I shouted at the bartender, widening his eyes in alarm. “Live. Or. Taped?”

“Live, I think,” Trevor replied, staring at me like I was a freak.

Hot tears pooled down my cheeks, my hand covering my mouth as the TV cut to commercial.

“No!” I yelled at the monitor, despair moving me around, wanting to jump in the TV. I needed to know what was going on. If he was okay.

My hands grappled for my jacket, pulling out my mobile. I had cleared my phone of Hunter to remove the temptation of texting him when I was drunk and vulnerable. But I knew where I could find another number, one I kept because the thought of completely cutting all ties whirled terror in my bones.

With hands trembling, I scrolled down my calls until I found the number. The sound of the ring hummed in my ear, my legs pacing back and forth. Please pick up.

It rang continuously, no one answering, sending me from rationality. I hung up, redialing instantly.

“Jayme, you’re freaking me out. What is going on?” Sammie stood in front of me, twisting me in a different direction. I couldn’t talk or explain anything to anyone. Not until I knew he was all right.

The phone clicked. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank god, Jones…” I grabbed the stool, keeping myself standing. “I saw… Please tell me he’s okay. Please…” I sobbed. I had the same surreal sense of being outside my own body as the night my father told me Colton was dead. Somehow, I lived through that; this I wouldn’t.

“Jayme, I can’t talk right now.” His voice was filled with panic and horror.

“Please!” I strangled the cell. “I need to know he’s okay.”

A shaky sigh exhaled from Jones. “I don’t know anything more than he’s alive. The EMT won’t let us out there… but fuck, Jayme… it’s bad. Really bad.”

A soggy gasp clogged my throat. Alive didn’t mean okay. He had already gone through so much. I had watched him almost die at my feet once, his body even more damaged than mine had been.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jones’s voice calmed me in a strange way. I had missed him. More than I realized. “Do I fly back? I feel like I should be there.”

“No, Jayme. Stay where you are. I’ll call you when I know something, okay?”

I squeezed my lids closed, not ready to end the link to Hunter. To his world.

“Jayme?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, not fighting the liquid running down my face. “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” Jones hung up, leaving me cradling the mobile, staring up at the TV a thousand miles from where my heart was.