Chapter 5
brODY
Well, fuck.
I thought I couldn’t go wrong, leaving my credit card with the deli owner and telling him to go to town. I wanted to impress Piper, but I never thought to check what she could or couldn’t eat.
And what the hell do I do now? Turn around and see if Starbucks has anything that’ll do?
My eyes stay on the road ahead as I merge back onto I-95 heading north, but at the edge of my vision, Piper’s head is bent and her shoulders are shaking.
Shit.
“We can go back. See what we can find,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry. I should have run it by you first.”
She makes this weird noise, halfway between a sob and a shriek, and panic stabs me in the gut. Is her blood sugar crashing? What the hell does an everything-intolerant vegan even eat? Cardboard? Air?
I speed up, scanning the road ahead, looking for the next place I can exit, praying she’s going to be okay.
“Piper, I—”
“Bro—Bro—ahahaha—”
She’s hyperventilating, and I’m freaking the fuck out. Slamming the car into the right shoulder, I screech it to a halt, unclip my seatbelt, and grab her shoulders.
“Piper! Look at me! Breathe!”
Tears stream down her bright red cheeks.
I reach for my phone. “I’m calling 911.”
Her hand closes over mine. “No! I’m—I’m fine.”
I take a breath and pause, gazing at her more critically. “Are you laughing?”
She’s now alternating between snorts and whoops like a pig in a cage fight with an owl.
I slump back in my seat, a wave of relief crashing through me. I’ve been on edge for months—scratch that—years, and over the last few days, the tension inside me has ratcheted up to heart-attack levels.
The SUV rocks slightly as cars whiz past with a roar. I listen to the thunk-thunk-thunk of the wipers, the rapid thudding of my heart, and Piper’s breathing as she gets herself under control.
“I am so sorry,” she says, sniffing through her tears of laughter.
I don’t open my eyes, still trying to calm myself down and not rebound into rage at how much she frightened me.
“I was expecting, I don’t know, a pre-packaged ham and cheese sandwich wrapped in plastic, or a couple of mystery meat hot dogs in foil. Or maybe a slightly squashed Hostess cupcake and a couple of cans of room temperature soda. Not the fanciest food in New York.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I open my eyes and skewer her with a look. “I wouldn’t even buy that for Marv, and he’s at the top of my shit list.”
She plays with the clasp of her purse. “It’s just so fancy, that’s all. I’m not used to it.”
You should be used to it. You deserve the best.
Huh? Where did those thoughts come from?
Turning my gaze away, I fiddle with the air vents. The interior of the car feels too small right now.
“Would you prefer we stop and get something else?”
“No way!” She settles back in her seat. “I want to try everything.”
“So you’re not really a gluten-free, sugar-free, whatever-free, vegan?”
She giggles. “God no. You should see me at Thanksgiving. I eat all the food.”
I smile, but the image of her around her family’s table is tinged with sadness. After my mom, my only family, died, I should have spent every Thanksgiving with the Lockes. Instead, I left Hideaway and never came back.
I merge back into the traffic, dreading what I might be walking into.
“Do you want me to feed you?” Piper asks as she rummages through the bags. “Pop chunks of cheese or some charcuterie in your mouth? I think most of this is finger food.”
“I’m not hungry right now. I might have something later if you want to do some of the driving.”
I skipped breakfast because of nerves, and now my stomach’s in knots thinking about returning to Hideaway.
So, I focus on the road ahead as Piper eats. Her obvious enjoyment lifts my spirits, but when she starts to make unconscious sex noises, my dick jumps to attention, wanting to play.
What the fuck?
I should have dated again after I broke up with Marisa. Hooked up with the first woman who flashed her eyes at me. If I’d been getting some then maybe my dick would get the memo that Piper’s a friend. Nothing more.
It’s bad enough that I’m using her to help my career and build bridges with Ethan. There’s no way I’m crossing a line with her.
As if she’d want you anyway.
I meant what I said to her earlier. I wouldn’t ever put her with someone like me. Taint her by association and have people tear her to pieces online.
She’s got a happy life in Brooklyn that doesn’t include me or my celebrity bullshit.
I just hope that once Christmas is over, she can go back to that life in peace.
So why does the thought of saying goodbye again hurt so much?
I press a little harder on the gas. I just need to focus on getting us to Hideaway. A few carefully curated photos and difficult conversations with Ethan and the rest of Piper’s family, then we can both move on.
We stop a couple more times, and Piper takes a turn at the wheel. We don’t talk much, and when we do, it’s surface stuff. But after I take over driving again and we get closer to Hideaway Harbor, we both clam up, lost in our thoughts.
The town is by the coast but completely encircled by mountains.
For years, it was difficult to access until the original mountain pass was widened.
Snow covers the jagged rocks around us and drifts onto the road as we climb higher.
It’s pretty, but I know how treacherous it can be.
As we go over the pass, I pull into a viewpoint by the side of the road, the spot tourists always stop to take pictures.
Piper gets out, and I follow, standing by her side as we look down at Hideaway Harbor below us. The winter sun dips toward the horizon, heading into the golden hour, when everything is still visible, but there’s an illusion of darkness, with the lights twinkling like stars below.
I see the colored lights along Main Street, the town square, the Christmas decorations covering people’s houses like they all want to be seen from space.
It’s like Who-ville, but I can’t be a total Grinch when Piper’s by my side.
My childhood wasn’t all bad—it had its moments of joy, and I’d rather people went all in for Christmas than not at all.
“It’s so beautiful,” Piper murmurs.
I gaze at her, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her hand hangs loose by her side, an inch from mine. Some crazy part of me wants to take it, but I know I can’t. Not unless Marv is about to leap out from behind a tree and shout, “Action!”
Piper glances at me. “Thank you for doing this.”
She’s talking about our fake relationship arrangement, but I play dumb. “Taking my car?”
Her head shakes, her loose blonde curls catching the dusky light.
“Pretending to be my boyfriend, and not saying how stupid I am for not telling Mom the truth.”
“You’ve never been stupid. I’m the one who punches the wrong people and makes friends with troublemakers. And I know what your mom is like. She just wants everyone to be as happy as she is with your dad.”
“I know.”
“I just hope we can bring her down gently after Christmas,” she continues. “You know, when we ‘break up.’”
The air quotes hit like a throat-punch.
There’s no way her mom will take our “break-up” well. When I’m insulated on the other side of the planet, Piper will be stuck fielding her mom’s questions and trying to find another boyfriend, a real one this time, to take my place.
I step back, feeling how cold the air is between us. “We should get going. Check into the hotel.”
She looks away, nods, then gets back in the truck, and I start the descent down to the town.
My eyes stay on the road, but I can’t help watching as Hideaway grows larger below us. The high school, the Locke Reserve, the harbor and lobster boats, every place triggers a memory, clear and vivid, like it just happened.
My chicken-shit self wants to turn around as the back of my neck prickles with sweat.
“I should call Mom and Dad,” Piper says, staring at her phone. “Give them the heads up before we arrive.”
“You don’t want to check in first?”
“I do, but I’d rather let them know about you before that, and give them a chance to process before the evening meal.”
She takes her time making the call, then puts the phone to her ear.
I’m holding my breath. Waiting to hear what she’ll say.
“Dammit!” She shoves the phone in her purse. “I knew I shouldn’t have left it until the last minute.”
“Hideaway still hasn’t got a new mast?”
“No. And people still think patchy-to-zero cell coverage is a good thing.”
“Fostahs commoonity spirit,” I say, putting on a Maine accent.
“Yeah. Some things never change.” She huffs out a laugh. “Oh well, let’s hope my folks don’t have a heart attack when they see you.”
There’s a sharp silence, then Piper rushes to cover it.
“I’m so sorry, Brody. I didn’t think. I—”
“It’s okay. Honestly. It was a long time ago.”
“But—”
“Seriously. It’s fine.”
I thought I’d dealt with it. But now, driving back into Hideaway Harbor, my mom’s death from a heart attack at only fifty-two doesn’t feel like a long time ago. It’s as painfully fresh as if it happened yesterday.
Piper doesn’t say anything else, and a lead weight settles in my stomach, growing heavier as I navigate on autopilot toward the Locke family home.
It’s almost exactly as I remember—a big, three-story wooden house with steps leading up to the front door and a large wraparound porch. A double garage sits off to one side, and the front lawn and white picket fence are as immaculate as ever.
There are more Christmas lights than there were twelve years ago, an inflatable Santa, a pair of light-up reindeer, giant candy canes, and Christmas tree baubles the size of exercise balls.
There’s also a small snowman with a scarf around its neck, two lumps of coal for eyes, and a carrot for a nose.
Piper’s quiet beside me, also making no move to exit the car and face her parents.
I take a deep breath and get out, meaning to go around the hood and open the passenger door for her.
But the moment my foot hits the gritted sidewalk, there’s a cry.
“Brody?”
I pivot slowly toward the house.
Piper’s mom is standing outside, one hand covering her heart.
“Oh, my Lord! It is you!”
My feet are frozen.
Erica takes hesitant steps closer, reaching out cautiously as if to touch a ghost.
Then her eyes widen even more. “Piper?”
Her gaze bounces between us, then the penny drops.
“Oh, my!” she cries, her hands going to her cheeks. “Brody! And my baby!”
I’m caught like a fish on a line, wanting to escape but can’t.
“John!” Erica yells, never once taking her eyes off me. “John! Get out here!”
Then she reaches my side, her fingers brushing my cheeks as if she can’t believe I’m real, and bursts into tears.