22. Pipers A Sniper
Chapter twenty-two
Piper's A Sniper
Haze
T he next few days are a whirlwind as Daniel Winicki takes me under his wing, showing me the ins and outs of running the Chino Hills Commanders. We meet with the team's coaching staff, review the roster and upcoming schedule, and discuss strategies for the next season.
Daniel seems eager to pass the torch, confident that I have what it takes to lead the team to success. "These boys are like my own," he tells me gruffly. "I want to make sure they're in good hands."
When it comes time to introduce me to the cheerleading squad, I can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. Cheerleaders have always been a bit of a wild card for me… Their energy and enthusiasm can be both exhilarating and exhausting. But Daniel assures me that this is an important part of the process.
As we enter the gym, the sound of pounding music and shouted encouragement fills the air. The cheerleaders are in the middle of a practice routine, their bodies moving in perfect sync as they toss and catch one another with effortless grace.
Daniel claps his hands, calling out to get their attention. "Ladies, I'd like you to meet your new owner…Haze Harmon."
All eyes turn to me, and I'm immediately struck by one cheerleader. She's tall and slender, with long, toned legs and a mane of dark curls. Her deep brown eyes seem to bore right into me, and there's something about the set of her jaw that feels oddly familiar.
"Haze, this is Piper Reynolds. She's our head cheerleader," Daniel introduces.
Piper steps forward, her gaze never leaving mine. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harmon." Her voice is smooth and confident, with just a hint of an edge to it. "I have to say, I'm quite impressed that you've taken on the Commanders. It's a big responsibility."
I nod, feeling a strange sense of unease. "It's an honor to be entrusted with this team. I'm looking forward to working with all of you to take the Commanders to new heights."
Piper's lips curve into a small smile, but there's a glint in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. "I'm sure you are. And I look forward to seeing what you can do."
As the other cheerleaders begin to swarm around me, introducing themselves and expressing their excitement, I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. Piper's words and her piercing gaze have triggered a memory, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is.
I make a mental note to keep a close eye on this particular cheerleader. There's something about her that sets off alarm bells in my mind, and I can't shake the feeling that she knows something. Something I should know, but don't.
An untouched measure of whiskey gently laps at the side of the glass that dangles from my fingers. The house is dark, the air heavy, the only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. The silence weighs on me, pressing in from all sides. It's a familiar feeling, one that I've grown accustomed to over the years, but it's never any easier to bear.
My thoughts drift to Sal and what he would be doing if he were here. Cooking in the kitchen, perhaps, the scent of chocolate and spices filling the air. Or sitting beside me, sipping a glass of wine and engaging me in one of our endless debates. The ache in my chest intensifies at the realization that I'll never have that again.
Fucking Sal. I keep trying to be angry at him, trying to whip myself into a lather over his ridiculous requests, but the flame always dies out before I can make the pot boil. At the end of the day, I don't have the gumption to maintain the level of rage I long for. Because the raw emptiness without him is too much. The absence is a shard of glass buried too deep to remove. The pain of his loss makes me long for Angie. I wouldn't have to say a word to her. She'd know before she ever laid eyes upon me that I was hurting. Her slender arms would wrap around me, enveloping me in the safe space of being seen and still truly loved. Angie. The memory of her warm smile and infectious laughter floods my senses. She had a way of filling a house with a sense of life and joy, of turning walls and a roof into a home that I haven't been able to replicate since she's been gone. She gave herself so readily. Loving her was a privilege.
Maybe that's why I swore to never love another woman. Why even thinking about seeking companionship again felt like the greatest betrayal I could commit. Why telling myself Angie wouldn't want to see me alone felt like a selfish lie.
Shame swirls, curdling in my gut. I didn't pursue Sal. Hell, he didn't pursue me either. He demanded and claimed. I had never considered a man. I had never considered anyone other than Angie. Maybe that's why I didn't pinpoint exactly when the rough, pounding, hot sex became more. When I brought Sal home, so hard and virile, the physical opposite of my wife, my conscience didn't produce a single warning bell. I'd loved Angie since my freshman year of college. I'd never looked at another. Not with tenderness. Not with any longing. Sal's masculine sensuality was a different world, an alternate plane, alien compared to the soft pliancy of my wife. Her strength was a different kind than his, intangible, while Sal's was displayed on the surface in his rippling back and his cutting gaze.
I was wrong to categorize them both the way I did. Maybe slotting them into the stereotypical roles the adults of my youth displayed was a subconscious way to justify my growing attachment to Sal. Maybe everything I've buried banded together to try to save me from the wasteland of an existence I cursed myself to. Or maybe I'm just an asshole.
I know that I dishonor the person Angie was by hanging on to my unreasonable promise. I know that Sal is the kind of person who will honor and respect my memories of my family. Only my pride and unreasonable vows to a dead woman have cursed me to this hollow existence. I had sworn to honor Angie's memory, to never love another, and in doing so, I had shut out the very thing that could have brought me the most comfort and happiness.
I've forced this upon myself.
Sal was a lifeline, a rescue ring thrown by the cosmos to save me from myself. Maybe he was guided by the loving hands of my wife after death, her blessing, and her wish for me to develop a connection to something beyond the endless cycle of work and grief that had consumed my life. And I had pushed him away, unwilling to compromise or to open myself up to the possibility of finding love again.
He deserves so much more than my terrible choices and crumbling life.
Now, as I sit in the darkness, the weight of my own choices bears down on me. The future stretches out before me, a bleak and empty landscape devoid of the warmth and laughter that Angie and Sal had brought into my life.
I don't want to go back to that dark place, the miserable, soul-shattering existence that had consumed me after the accident. But the thought of facing the rest of my life alone, without the love and companionship that I had once taken for granted, fills me with a sense of dread that I can't shake.
Angie's face appears in my mind's eye, her expression soft and understanding. I can almost hear her voice whispering in my ear, urging me to let go of the past and embrace the future. But the weight of my guilt and fear holds me back, trapping me in this endless cycle of loneliness and regret.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, the whiskey in my hand still untouched. The silence presses in around me, a constant reminder of all that I have lost and all that I may never have again.