She squeezed his hand, a signal for him to stay on track.
He’d try, but it wasn’t easy. “Declan and Booker had no choice but to jump—how else would they get down the mountain? They couldn’t fly my dad’s plane. Jaime landed first, then Declan, then me. All of us had perfect jumps. Couldn’t have gone better. It was such a high, like the perfect way to say goodbye. Our last hurrah.” Blood pounded in his ears, and his pulse beat like he’d just been chased down a dark alley.
“And then?” Her voice in the dark room was like a caress to his guilt-laden mind.
“And then we turned to watch Booker’s landing, and we could tell right away it was going to be bad. There’s this thing called turbulence. It happens just above the ground. You can’t see it, and you can’t anticipate it.”
“And it got Booker.”
His eyes closed as he saw it all over again, his friend’s body rushing to the ground. And the moment he hit, Cole flinched.
Hailey squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. If I’d let it just be a bonfire—”
“Nope. You have no control over the forces of nature. But go on. Tell me the rest.”
“That’s it. That’s the story. He hit the ground hard. His legs…” He ran out of air.
“He broke them?”
“Worse.” So much worse. “He was in physical therapy for a year. I ended his hockey career. If I’d just let it be a bonfire, if I hadn’t made them fly up to the cabin—”
“Cole, honey. You have to stop doing this to yourself. You’re caught in an endless loop of what-ifs, and no good will ever come of it. It won’t change what happened. It won’t fix it. You have to let it go. It’s literally toxic to your well-being.”
“Fuck my well-being. I ruined my best friend’s life.”
“What happened to him? After rehab?”
“He went to Yale. Got an MBA. He’s a sports agent now.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize he’d fallen so low. Yep, you’re a monster all right.”
He cut her a look.
“Let me ask you something. You truly believe you ruined this man’s life, right?”
He kept watching her, wondering where she was going with this.
“Okay, so if that’s a fact, then tell me what your self-loathing will do for him? Does it give him satisfaction to know you’re drowning in guilt and regret? How does it make up for the life you supposedly stole from him?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked since the jump.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You have no idea if he even blames you?”
“Of course he blames me. But no. His parents moved back east, and we didn’t talk to him until last summer.”
“Are you saying you didn’t visit him in the hospital?”
“We tried. Believe me, we did everything we could to see him, but his parents kept us out. And then they moved without telling anyone.”
“That’s awful. I can’t believe they did that.”
“You can forgive me but not them? He nearly died. Of course, they didn’t want me around their son.”
“Andthisis why I don’t forgive them. Look at you. Look how you’re suffering. They should’ve let you see that he was okay. They should’ve let youapologize. They did a terrible thing not letting you have some kind of closure.” She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “I think you need to see him. Talk to him.”
“I did. Last summer, our coach passed away and left us his hockey team. We all came to the funeral, and then afterward, we met at Jaime’s. The minute the subject came up, Booker left. Didn’t tell us he was leaving, didn’t say goodbye. He just slipped out the door and drove off. So, yeah. He blames me. And I get it. Because of me, he endured the worst pain imaginable, and he lost his shot to play hockey.”