19. Andy
ANDY
The interruption is jarring. Harlan’s words—clearly heard through the speaker of Jedd’s phone—anxiety inducing.
What was I thinking? Leaving Piper with Harlan and Maisie for a night after so much in her life has changed so drastically over a matter of weeks?
After throwing on Jedd’s dress shirt and gathering our things we practically flew out of the resort. We’re speeding down the highway to Everette in an effort to shave off precious minutes to reach my—now our—niece.
Harlan was quick to reassure Jedd that Piper is physically okay. Around bedtime, she started to have a meltdown when Maisie was trying to get Audra down for the night.
But emotionally she’s wrecked. She wouldn’t tell Harlan what was wrong, just that she wanted me and to go home.
My knee jogs as my foot bounces against the floorboard of Jedd’s truck. He’s stayed mostly silent, but after pulling out of the resort’s parking lot, he reached across the center console and took my hand in his, giving me a reassuring squeeze.
Internally, my muscles are still jumping and my brain wants nothing more than to return to the way he played my body like it was an engine he knew like the back of his deliciously calloused mechanic hands.
All those loose carefree feelings evaporated at Harlan’s call.
Did I plan to jump feet first into Jedd’s bed the second he crooked his finger in my general direction?
Not even a little bit.
But I did it anyway.
And now it’s something else that we need to talk about.
He pulls off the highway to one of the back roads that lead to Harlan’s place, and I yank my thoughts—kicking and screaming—out of the pleasure-laced gutter they’ve been in since he got his hands on me.
Now is not the time to think about the devastating orgasm he bestowed upon me like it was candy he was passing out at Halloween.
Three skidding turns later, Harlan’s place comes into view. The porch light illuminates the way as I jump from the cab and sprint up the steps to the front door.
Before I can reach for the handle, the door opens and Harlan is there.
“Where’s Piper?” I ask, out of breath from the short sprint from the truck to the house.
“Whoa there, Andy. Stop. Take a couple of breaths before you go running back there and get her going again.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But the way he says it in all his sheriffy firm confidence rankles.
“I am calm. Where. Is. My. Niece?”
Harlan sighs and raises his hands. “She’s in the kitchen with Maisie.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the room in question.
Jedd’s right behind me as I push past Har and start toward the kitchen. I take a few deep breaths before I step through the entry way. Maisie’s sitting at the table with a sniffling Piper who has a plate of crackers in front of her.
“Pipsqueak?” I say, and she whips around in her chair. Her eyes are swollen and rimmed in red. At the sight of me, her face crumples and I rush forward.
“Aunt Andy,” she cries as she pivots and launches herself into my arms. Her shoulders shudder as she starts crying again.
“Oh girlie. What’s wrong?” I ask in the calmest tone I can manage.
“I wanna go home.” She sobs.
“Okay.” I nod, not that she can see me with her face buried in my neck.
“Sorry,” Maisie mouths at me, and I shake my head before mouthing back that it’s okay. I shouldn’t have expected her to take a sleepover well. Especially considering everything she’s been through.
What am I doing?
What kind of parent lets her kid stay at another person’s house after her world has been turned upside down and changed seven ways from Sunday?
“Hey, Piper.” Jedd’s soothing voice comes from behind me. “Let’s get going and we’ll be home in no time.”
Belatedly, I realize that I thought about Piper like she’s my kid.
Because she fucking is.
I’ve been more of a mother to her than her own mother for years. Maybe my conscience is just catching up with that now.
Do I have what it takes to be a parent?
I’ve never thought about having kids, not in a specific way. Steering clear of long-term romantic relationships meant that question didn’t come up.
God, what am I doing?
I promise to text them when we get home and follow Jedd to the truck to get Piper buckled into the back seat. Once I climb into my seat, Jedd takes my hand again and squeezes it reassuringly.
The ride to my house is silent, occasionally punctuated by Piper’s sniffles. I’m not sure if she’s still crying or this is just the aftermath, but I don’t want to get into whatever triggered her in Jedd’s truck.
As soon as we get inside, I kick off the painful-as-hell heels and dig my toes into the fibers of my living room rug.
“Come on babe,” I say to Pip. “Let’s get you into bed and we can talk.”
She nods, wipes her nose on the back of her hand and starts back toward her room.
“Want me to come with?” Jedd asks from where he’s standing by the front door clad in the t-shirt and basketball shorts he tossed on in a hurry. He drops his keys into the bowl on the table there as I shake my head.
“Let me talk to her first. I don’t want to freak her out by both of us being there.”
Jedd nods and steps forward, grabbing my hands in his. He drops a slow forehead kiss on me. “And then we can talk?” he asks, and I nod.
Oh god. My stomach swoops at the emotionally heavy night.
We do need to talk. I have to put the brakes on the runaway sex train we boarded earlier. But I can’t think about that right now.
When I step into Piper’s room, she’s already bundled under the covers, hugging her pillow to her chest.
“Hey, girlie,” I say softly, clicking on the dim light we use as a nightlight, though she denies needing one.
“I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing her face in the pillow she’s trying her best to hide in.
My heart clenches.
“No sorries. Tell me what happened?” I ask as I settle on the mattress next to her.
She sits up and hugs the pillow tighter. “Today was awesome. You looked really pretty, and it was like a big party, you know?” she says with a sniffle.
I smile. “Yeah. Today was fun.”
“And I was thinking if Mom was healthy, she would have been able to be there with us. Like when she’s really happy and we have dance parties in the kitchen. Or when she would let me paint with her.”
I nod, swallowing past a syrup-thick throat. I know that not every second of Piper’s life was unhappy with her mother, and I’m grateful she has those fun memories. I hold my own happy memories with Alex especially close in my heart when things get hard.
“But she’s not. And she doesn’t even try, and it makes me mad and sad. Why won’t she try, Aunt Andy? Why doesn’t she want me?” she asks as she buries her face in the pillow and starts to cry again.
Her sadness cracks my heart right down the center. I ache at the tears she’s still spilling for her mother. For all of the shit she’s been through.
“Baby.” I pull her into my lap after extricating her from the pillow shield.
I’ve dealt with the same things that Piper is feeling right now and that makes another nugget of anger stir as I run my hand up and down her back.
God this fucking sucks. She’s a little girl. The only thing she should be worried about is what she’s going to wear to school tomorrow.
“Baby. Look at me.” I pull back far enough to look down at her.
She turns her swollen, tear-streaked face up. “Yeah?”
“It’s okay to be mad and sad and remember the fun times you and your mom have had.
It’s okay to miss her. Especially on big days like today.
Nothing that you’re feeling right now is wrong.
You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry. I wish I could snap my fingers and fix it—make your mom healthy—but I can’t.
So it’s okay if we’re a little sad and mad right now.
And your mom does want you. She’s just sick. ”
Defending Alex is a habit. Plus Piper isn’t ready to learn the ugly side of addiction, the truth of her mother choosing drugs over her well-being time and time again. She’s not ready to learn that sometimes loving someone, being there for them and trying our best to support them isn’t enough.
“It’s not fair,” Piper cries.
“I know, baby. I know. It sucks. It’s not fair. I’m so sorry,” I say as my heart breaks for this child.
“Will I get to see her again?” Her voice trembles with the question.
“Of course you will, Pip. Of course you’ll see her again.” The court is most likely going to give her visitation at some point, but regardless, I wouldn’t keep Alex from Piper without a strong reason to do so.
“Okay,” she says and settles more firmly into my arms. I lay down with her and rub her back until she falls asleep.
Crisis averted … at least for now.
I blow out a breath. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it to where Alex figures out her shit and is there for Piper, but I can’t control her choices or actions any more than I can control the weather.
What I can do is be there for Piper when she needs me and when she doesn’t. To be the calm in the storm for her, keeping her steady and loved during the turbulent times.
Damn Alex for putting Piper through this. Damn this whole fucking fucked-up situation.
I tuck the blankets around her one last time, then leave and softly close the door. The lights in the living room are off, but there’s light peeking from under my bedroom door. Willing to avoid that conversation for at least a few more seconds, I turn to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water.
It shouldn’t surprise me that Jedd made himself comfortable in my bedroom—he’s moving in after all—but the thought of him being in there, in my bed, has fear and lust coursing through me.
After talking to Piper, I recognize that I’m just doing the same thing to him that my sister and mother have done with all of the men in their lives. I’m using him.
And that’s an ugly thought to have about myself.
The lust is easier to negate. It’s been a while for me, and I’ve wanted Jedd for so long.
As much as I want to step into my room, strip naked and show Jedd what I can do—what fantasies I’ve harbored over the years—that would just mess us up more. And I can’t do that.
I can’t do that to us. I can’t do that to me.
Self-preservation surges through me. I can’t get close to Jedd only to lose him after the custody case closes and his shop reopens. How would we even come back to being friends after something like that? How much more would that mess Piper up?
We wouldn’t. And selfishly, I’d rather have Jedd as a friend than not at all. Piper would be so confused and hurt.
I can’t lose him.
“You about done overthinking everything?” Jedd’s firm voice comes from behind me.
I yelp and bobble the water bottle, some of it sloshing over the rim and onto his dress shirt that I’m still wearing.
Setting the it on the counter, I turn to Jedd. How did he know? How could he have known that I’d avoid my bedroom—avoid him—while I tried to process everything?
Because he knows you better than you know yourself.
The thought comes unbidden. It’s not wrong though. Years of him being in my life, the peanut butter to my jelly, gives him a unique perspective. This man anticipates my needs to give me everything that lets me be me.
All the more reason to put the brakes on whatever this is now before one of us gets hurt.
“Yeah. Whatever’s going on in that brain of yours is going to be a no from me,” he says.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
He steps forward. Instinctively, I take a step back, trying to keep distance between us. My defenses are flimsier than rice paper right now.
Hazel eyes glint at me as he continues to advance. In all his shirtless glory, he’s hunting me through my kitchen, like he knows how weak my resolve is.
“I can tell exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Oh?” I ask lamely.
Oh? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?
I inch around the island until my butt bumps the cabinets next to the fridge.
He takes another step forward, and I realize that I trapped myself. He’s got me cornered. Jedd’s arms come up on either side of my head, crowding me.
“Yeah, Mischief. You’re thinking of calling what happened earlier a fluke.
Of pulling the plug on us. You’re worried about Piper—I am too, so you have company there—but mainly you’re thinking of running .
” The last word is a husky grumble. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his breath against my cheek as he leans down to make direct eye contact.
“No.”
“No?” I say stupidly.
“No. It wasn’t a fluke. No. You’re not pulling the plug. No. You’re not running. Not now. Not from me,” he says, punctuating each statement with a kiss against my neck.
I try to hold strong, but every ounce of me melts in his arms.
“Jedd,” I whisper.
“It’s been an eventful day. We’re going to bed. Together. You’re going to sleep in my arms tonight and wake up in them in the morning. And then, over coffee, we’re going to talk about the change in our relationship. And Mischief?”
“Yeah?”
“We are in a relationship. We’ll figure out what that means for us and meet somewhere in the middle, okay?”
His tone leaves no room to argue, and I’m too tired to put up a sufficient fight or make my case tonight.
I’ll convince him in the morning. Convince him that we—there being an us—is a terrible idea.
He snorts against my hair where he’s resting his face. “Not fucking likely.”
I’m so fucking tired that I spoke out loud. Fuck. He’s got me twisted up, turned inside out and shaken. So badly shaken.
He reaches down and pulls me into his arms—bridal style.
“Didn’t get to do this when we got home, but figure it can’t be worse luck to do it now. Let’s go to bed, wife .”
The inflection on that word should worry me, but I’m too tired to think why as he carries me to my room.