“Go on,” I say, “finish your sentence.” I need to hear it. This thing with Luke is a defining feature of my life before—I need to kill it. If I have any lingering illusions about what I still mean to him, they need to go. I know what Blair’s saying about Luke, about who he is, is true. A hot bubble of rage boils up from my stomach, and I realize that, despite what I’ve told myself, I haven’t forgiven Luke for the way he handled everything: he should have either risen to the challenge or had the courage to leave me.

“He’s seeing someone,” I say. Blair’s silence confirms it. I laugh, and it sounds like the beginning of a sob. “Well, I couldn’t have expected anything else from the big man, especially with his new gold medals. Just tell me it isn’t fucking Sarah.”

Blair at last cracks a smile. “It’s not Sarah,” he says.

“Just dating every liftie and coed he can find or what? Making up for lost time?” Blair shakes his head but won’t look at me. “No,” I say, feeling hollow. “It’s one person. It’s serious.”

“He’s living with someone,” Blair says quietly.

Luke slutting it up all over Park City would be one thing; his heart belonging to someone is something else entirely.

“Well,” I say, my voice too loud, shrill, “he has the right to move on, doesn’t he?”

Blair ignores the question. “You know what, Katie? I have to just say this. He was a goddamned idiot to let you go. He took you for granted, and he shouldn’t have bailed on you.”

“I wasn’t what he signed up for anymore,” I say, shaking my head.

“Don’t make excuses for him. If that had been our family, you would have done anything to help him, and you know it. I know it. Luke will never have anyone in his life again who is one-tenth of the woman you are.”

He looks down, then glances back up at me. It moves me to see him so vulnerable. I want to comfort him; I want to kiss him; I want to run away; I want to crawl into his lap and disappear there.

“Blair,” I say finally.

“Katie.”

“This is overwhelming. What you’re saying, that you’re here. Don’t get me wrong,” I say, grasping his hand. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life, it’s just . . . I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Well, I do,” he says. “You’re the bravest, most inspiring skier I’ve ever met. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for. You’re a kind, smart, beautiful woman who doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.”

I shake my head. He doesn’t see how much I’ve deteriorated. How different Liz Sullivan is from Katie Cleary.