Chapter 8
EIGHT
PIPER
Ivy & Piper’s Guide to Life Rule Number Seven:
Block, delete, and move on.
AKA- Alcohol and exes do not mix.
I vy’s gaze burned into the side of my head as we made our way back to the line, urging me to go back and tell him the truth.
“What the hell was that?” she hissed, gripping my arm and pulling me into a secluded hallway near the bathrooms. “You had the perfect opportunity to tell him, and you walked away!”
“Why do you care? You’re the one who told me not to meet him that night.”
“Yeah, Piper. I did,” she said dryly. “And you did it anyway. The toothpaste is out of the tube, so to speak.”
I bristled, anger flaring hot in my chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t agonized over my decision every single damn day?”
“Then why didn’t you tell him?” she pressed, her voice rising. “He was right there, Piper. You could have put yourself out of your misery with a handful of words.”
“Because I froze, okay?” I snapped, my eyes stinging with tears. “ Because seeing him again after all this time... It was too much. I couldn’t think straight, let alone tell him the truth.”
“So you ran away like a scared little girl? That’s not like you.”
“Mm, you’re right. I should have just told him because that worked out so well for my mom,” I gritted out, angrily swiping at the tears on my cheeks.
Her expression softened, and she sighed. “Not all men are your father, Piper. Come on. He’s here, you’re here. It’s like the universe is practically screaming at you to come clean. He deserves to know.”
I sliced my hand through the air with a groan. “Stop. This isn’t about him. It’s about what’s best for Avery?—”
“And you think keeping her father in the dark is what’s best for her?” Ivy challenged, arching an eyebrow. “I know you. The guilt will eat you alive. You can’t avoid it forever.”
“Watch me,” I grumbled, digging through my bottomless pit of a purse for my phone. I’d managed to locate it when a large hand wrapped around my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. I didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to—my body’s reaction told me everything. Proving it had a sick and twisted sense of humor, the universe had decided to bring the conversation to me.
“We need to talk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“I’ll, uh, see you inside,” Ivy murmured, squeezing my hand as she passed. The silent message was clear— tell him .
Take me with you , you traitor .
I took a deep breath before reluctantly turning to face him. “If you’re trying to clear your conscience or whatever, you can save your breath,” I said, sounding small and uncertain instead of strong and confident. “I’m fine. It was a casual thing?—”
Dane tightened his grip on my shoulder, preventing me from fleeing. In one swift motion, he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in with his body. His eyes pierced mine, a storm of emotions swirling within their blackened depths.
My heart thundered against my chest, a mix of fear and something else I didn’t want to name coursing through me.
“Bullshit,” he growled, his face inches from mine. “You want to write it off as a mistake, fine. But don’t act like it didn’t mean anything because it did. ”
I let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask the hurt his words stirred up. “Now, who’s bullshitting themselves?”
“I get you’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Seems to be a pattern with you, doesn’t it? Always needing to explain yourself. Just stop with the excuses and call it what it was. A one-night stand.”
“You know it was more than that,” he argued, shaking my shoulder as if trying to force me to understand. “Jesus, Piper. I meant every word I said that night.”
My chest constricted at the raw desperation in his voice. I wanted to believe him, but the memory of waking up alone, sore, and confused was still too fresh.
“Then why’d you leave, huh?” I demanded, hating the way my voice cracked. Tears blurred my vision, and I blinked them back furiously. “Why take off without so much as a note if it meant so much to you?”
The shrill chime of my phone cut through the heavy silence, startling us both. I used the distraction to try to free myself from his iron grip.
“Let me go.” When he didn’t immediately release me, I planted my hand on his chest and pushed. “Move.”
Dane stepped back and dragged his hands through his hair in frustration while I checked my phone to find an automated text from a local boutique about a sale they were having. Hardly the lifeline I’d been hoping for.
I tucked it back into my purse, steeling myself against the anguished look in his eyes and the dark circles I’d missed before.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Dane said, his voice low and urgent. “Just not here.”
I rolled my eyes, already anticipating his next move. “Let me guess. You’re willing to do it over drinks or back in your hotel room,” I muttered, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “No, thanks.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth with a cold chuckle before gritting out, “You want to do this right here? Fine. I left because my nephew, Levi…” His lips trembled, and he pressed them together before dropping his chin to his chest with a pained gasp .
My heart plummeted, the band around my chest tightening. “Dane, what happened?”
“He killed himself the night we were together,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper, his dark eyes staring into nothing.
Everything I thought I knew about that night turned on its head. All this time, I’d convinced myself he left because I meant nothing to him when the truth was far more devastating.
“I… I’m so sorry,” I managed to choke out, instinctively reaching for his hand before catching myself. The burning anger in my chest I’d carried for almost two years had been snuffed out and replaced by a hollow ache.
“Listen, I don’t want to keep you from the event,” Dane said, clearing his throat. “But I’d like to take you to dinner after.”
I hesitated, torn between the urge to comfort him and the secret still burning a hole in my chest. “I’m actually not staying at the hotel. I have somewhere I have to be as soon as this is over.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, followed by a resigned nod.
My throat tightened. A part of me wanted to offer some small comfort. But another part—the part that had been hurt and angry for so long—held me back.
“Actually,” I began hesitantly. “I’m free now if you want to grab a drink at the bar. I think we could both use one.”
He glanced back toward the ballroom with a frown. “You sure? What about your books?”
“I didn’t have any preorders,” I said, conveniently leaving out the part about how most of my discretionary income went to diapers these days.
Dane’s dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? Figured you’d have a whole stack waiting for you.”
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not this year.”
He studied me for a long moment before nodding. “All right, darlin’. Let’s get you that drink then.”
His large hand found the small of my back as he guided me toward the elevators. Even in heels, he still towered over me, his broad frame radiating a sense of safety I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed until now. Despite the tumultuous churning in my stomach and my needing to remind myself to breathe, the weight of his palm felt oddly comforting against my skin.
The ride up was silent, the air between us thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions. I fidgeted with the gold band on my thumb, twisting it around and around as I tried to gather my racing thoughts. The confession I’d rehearsed a thousand times in my head suddenly felt all wrong.
When the doors slid open, Dane steered me toward the empty chairs in front of the bar. The terrace was mostly deserted save for a few people taking in the Dallas Steel’s practice facility and a couple relaxing in the temperature-controlled pool.
A gust of wind caught my hair almost as soon as I sat down, blowing the long strands across my face. His fingertips grazed my cheek as he reached out to tuck them behind my ear, sending a jolt of longing through me.
“Uh, you go first,” I said when the bartender approached to take our order. “I’m still deciding.”
“Whiskey, neat,” Dane requested before looking at me expectantly.
“I’ll have…” I chewed on my lip, weighing my options. It had been ages since I’d had a real drink—motherhood had put an end to my social life. But if there was ever a time I needed some liquid courage, it was now.
“I’ll have the same. Actually, you know what? Make mine a double—what?” I asked when Dane did a double take.
“Nothing,” he said with a chuckle. “Just surprised.”
I snatched up my glass and took a large gulp as soon as the bartender slid it over, hissing out a wheezy cough.
“Jesus,” Dane muttered with a low whistle. He held up his own glass. “Cheers, I guess.”
“Cheers,” I rasped, clinking my glass against his before knocking back the remaining liquor with a shudder.
God, it was like drinking acid.
He sipped his whiskey more slowly, watching me with a mixture of amusement and concern. “You all right there?”
“Fine,” I croaked, setting my empty glass down with a thunk and signaling the bartender for another round.
The burn in my throat settled into a pleasant warmth that spread through my chest, draining the tension from my shoulders and giving me a false sense of courage.
“I wanted to say I’m so sorry about your nephew. I can’t even imagine.”
He nodded stiffly, staring down into his glass. “It’s been a living hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” he admitted, his deep voice thick with emotion. “I keep thinking about all the signs I missed, you know? The things I could’ve done differently.”
“You have to know it isn’t your fault.” I reached out, placing my hand over his much larger one.
“Isn’t it?” he asked with a humorless laugh, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight. “I’m the one who gave him shitty advice, and when he called me upset because it all went wrong, I wasn’t really listening. I could have stayed on the phone with him instead of rushing to get off so I could…”
He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. So he could meet me.
“Don’t,” Dane said quietly as if reading my thoughts. “I’m not blaming you. I don’t regret anything that happened between us that night, Piper. I need you to know that.”
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I absorbed his words. The rational part of my brain knew he was right, that Levi’s decision wasn’t on either of us. But I couldn’t help but feel the sting of culpability.
“GQ was the one who came to get me. By the time I realized I had no way to reach you, it was too late.”
He took another small sip of whiskey, the muscles in his throat rippling as he swallowed. “I tried to play it cool earlier but fuck it. I came for you today. I know I fucked up by disappearing on you without a word, but if you give me another chance, I promise things will be different this time.”
I stared into the amber depths of my second glass as if it held all the answers I so desperately needed, like some boozy magic eight-ball.
“I can’t sleep with you,” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my whiskey-loosened lips before I could stop them. Now I remembered why I never drank on an empty stomach because tipsy Piper had no filter. “I mean, I won’t. Sleep with you, that is. ”
Dane ran a hand over his jaw and blinked at me, clearly taken aback. “Shit. At least buy me dinner first.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a lopsided grin that did dangerous things to my insides.
The heat from the liquor spread into my lower belly, and I squirmed in my seat. “Things are—they’re different now.”
“Care to elaborate?”
My eyes flicked to my dark phone screen. “It’s just?—”
“You’re with someone,” he guessed, nodding toward the device. “You keep checking it every five minutes, so I assume someone’s waiting for you back home.”
“Yes. Well, not exactly.” I shook my head and blew out a breath, frustrated by my inability to spit it out already. “It’s complicated.”
His grin widened. “And here I thought you were about to tell me you’re happily married. But complicated?” He leaned in, dragging his lips along my jaw before stopping at my ear, his voice taking on a low, sexy edge as he murmured, “I can work with complicated, darlin’.”