Chapter 2 #2
Either way, I hate that she looks crushed.
“Fuck, Pipe, you could do so much better than some random in Denver.”
She snorts. “You don’t even know him.”
“Don’t need to,” I refute. “Knowing he hurt you is enough to dislike him.”
She straightens at the venom in my tone. “It’s been a long time since anyone ran off my crushes.”
I roll my lips together, recalling the guys I shut down in high school before they had a chance to ask her out.
None of them were good enough. I didn’t trust any enough with Piper.
The thought pulls me up short. Why is that?
Even when my best friend on the hockey team mentioned asking Piper out, I gave him a list of conditions so long he dropped the idea. “Maybe you still need me to.”
She snorts. Swirls her wine glass. Takes a long sip. “I guess I’m meant to be perpetually single.”
“Why do you say that?”
She polishes off her glass in one gulp. “There are no men waiting in the wings. There’s just me and a lot of work I can barely keep up with.”
At the dejectedness in her tone, I lean closer. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“You mean quit?” She arches an eyebrow.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Despite how much time has passed, I know you, Piper. You’re a classic overachiever and can’t handle the thought of quitting anything. But taking a break, a time-out, or pivoting into something new, something different, isn’t the same as giving up.”
She bites her bottom lip thoughtfully. Her brown eyes are deep and thoughtful, like hot chocolate on a cold, winter day.
Awareness snaps through me as I lean closer, as if pulled by a magnet. I want to tug on her lip, release it from her teeth. Swipe the pad of my thumb along her plush mouth. Put my hands on her and feel the silkiness of her skin.
Fuck. I look down at the kitchen island.
What is wrong with me? Why am I acting this viscerally to Piper?
Because it’s always been her.
I shake my head against the thought.
Back in high school, I knew better than to make a move on my best friend. She was a good girl, and I was an athlete with a reputation. I’d never be good enough for her. In fact, I didn’t rank myself higher than the chumps I kept from sniffing too close to her.
The only time I almost crossed the line, I was smart enough to backpedal. I remember everything about the night before we threw our caps in the air and said good-bye to high school. We were hanging out, sharing a beer on the roof, late at night. She told me she sees me as more than just a friend.
Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. She was earnest and so damn trusting, and in that moment, I knew I’d break her fucking heart if I even breathed. Because at that age, all I could see was hockey. I’d only let Piper down since nothing—and no one—was going to come before the game.
I told her as much and watched, with my heart beating in my throat and my fingers curled into my palms, as her sunny disposition clouded over. Hurt flared in her eyes, and for a flicker, I hated myself.
Then, she laughed it off. Agreed with me. We finished the beer, and she went back to her house. The next day, we received our diplomas and…life happened.
“Why don’t we talk anymore?” I blurt out.
Her eyes land on mine. Hold. Hurt and disappointment flares in their depths and my stomach twists at the knowledge that I’m missing something crucial in this exchange.
Piper straightens and pours herself another glass of wine. She tucks her dark brown hair behind her ears and stares at me. She studies my expression, and my breathing increases.
Then, she picks up her glass and takes a hearty sip. Smacking her lips together, she says, “No reason, Hudson. We just grew apart. Our worlds spun in two different directions.”
I sigh, not liking her explanation.
Without a backward glance, Piper pinches the stem of her wine glass and relocates to the living room, leaving me in the kitchen alone.
I’m still reeling.
“Can you pass the bread?” Frankie asks.
I pick up the breadbasket, but before I pass it, I grab an extra dinner roll and lob it onto Piper’s plate.
It drops into the gravy next to her turkey, splattering it slightly. She glances up and gives me a look.
“What? You love carbs,” I remind her.
Joe snickers.
Stacy rolls her eyes.
Piper glowers. She pushes the roll to the side of her plate. Sighs. “What every woman wants to hear.”
Mom and Misty laugh. Dad changes the subject.
I lean closer to Piper. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls that doesn’t eat carbs.”
She snaps her head toward mine. “I eat carbs. And what do you mean by ‘those girls’?”
“Tread carefully, bro,” Joe warns.
I smirk. “Just that you look great, Piper. And you should eat all the dinner rolls you want to.”
She takes a massive bite from the roll in response.
Her dad laughs. “Trust me, Piper still has the appetite you remember. She could probably out eat you, Hud.”
I glance at my friend and arch an eyebrow. “Want to make a bet?”
Piper stares at me for a full beat. In her deep brown eyes, I see the spark of challenge, and it eases some of the tension in my neck.
She’s still in there. The fierce, funny, confident girl who beat me in Mario Kart, helped me study for the chemistry final, and told off a girl for grabbing my ass at Homecoming.
A grin begins to form on my face as I wait for Piper to set the terms.
But as quickly as that spark appeared, it dims. She shakes her head and excuses herself from the table, moving toward the kitchen under the guise of getting another bottle of wine for the table.
I glance at the full bottle near the parents’ end of the table and toss down my napkin. Then, I follow Piper into the kitchen.
I pull up short as soon as I clear the doorway. She’s standing at the kitchen counter, her hands gripping the lip, her head hanging in between her arms. Hunched forward. Defeated.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Piper looks up. The tip of her nose is red, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears.
“Hey,” I repeat, moving closer. Unease coats my stomach, and a thread of concern unravels in my limbs. “What’s going on?”
Piper lets out a laugh, but it’s filled with self-deprecation. She tosses an arm. “Nothing.” She shakes her head. “What could be wrong? It’s Christmas, the dinner is beautiful, it’s snowing like it should…” She releases a shaky exhale. “Everything is great.”
“It doesn’t sound that way, Pipe,” I say, my voice deeper than it was a moment ago.
Piper meets my gaze and blinks, willing her tears to fade.
“Are you okay?” I try again.
“Sure,” she replies with a nonanswer.
“Cut the bullshit,” I say. Surprise flickers in her irises. One side of my mouth tugs up to soften my words. “I’ve known you for forever, Pipe. Stop bullshitting me. What’s going on?”
She shakes her head again. “Nothing.” Her tone is soft. “That’s the problem. I literally have nothing going on in my life. All work and no play. No wonder I’m alone. Who would want to celebrate a holiday with me?” She gestures toward herself. “I’m a total mess, not to mention—”
I close the space between us in one long stride. Grasping her wrist, I press the pad of my thumb into her pulse, loving that it flutters wildly against my skin. Then, I dip my face and capture her lips with mine.
I shoot my shot.
I kiss her hard, with intention and purpose and so much damn history. I pull back and her wide eyes fly up to meet mine. “I would. I do,” I say, before kissing her senseless.