3. Piper
Piper
It’s been six months since Travis sauntered into my life with that cocky smile, and I’ve spent about four of them trying to figure out if I blacked out or just mistook red flags for sparks.
You know that feeling when you buy something expensive, and the second you get it home, you realize it was a mistake, but you’re too stubborn to return it? Yeah, that’s been my entire relationship with Travis.
Six months with Baby Crawford has felt like six years of watching paint dry in hell and not even the fun kind of hell with fire, demons, and drama. It’s the boring, soul-crushing kind where nothing ever happens except mild gaslighting, lukewarm sex, and being talked over every time I open my mouth.
At the start, I was trying to distract myself from someone I had no business wanting as much as I did.
That, and I wanted to shove it in his mother’s over-contoured face that I wasn’t some charity case dating her golden boy.
She hated me on sight, which only made me double down, and it became a pride thing after that.
All I’ve been doing since is faking orgasms and ignoring every red flag waving right in my face.
I’m so over it, I could scream.
That said, I’m about to spend the next couple of weeks at his daddy’s farm, and there was no way in hell I was missing that.
A quiet stretch of land in the middle of nowhere, snow blanketing the ground, horses wandering lazily through the fields, and wide-open skies stretching out above.
I can fake a few more smiles and play the part of a semi-happy girlfriend if it means swapping my sister's place for barn air and starry nights.
“You ready for this shit show tomorrow?” Violet asks from her spot on the couch.
“I committed to going up and helping, and I’m not about to break that.”
“Yeah, because you’re going for Travis,” she snorts, and I flip her my favorite finger in response.
“Lie to yourself all you want, but we both know the real reason you’re going is to spend two weeks watching Daddy Crawford work that farm.
” She hits me with a look so smug I want to throw something heavy at her face.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I’ve been looking forward to staying up there, but after this, I’m done.”
Yeah, I get it—I’m the asshole for stringing him along.
“Great, then you can finally bang his dad, and I can stop watching you eye-fuck him across the bar when you think no one’s looking.”
“I don’t eye-fuck anyone.”
“You do, and the truth is, Travis is a cuntwaffle, and you deserve better. You could pick any other Crawford, and they’d be an upgrade.”
Violet’s been more of a real parent to me over the years than anyone else ever tried to be.
She’s only ten years older than me, but my sister did everything a mom should do when I was younger.
She read me bedtime stories that didn’t involve slurred curse words, held me through panic attacks, and walked me through my first period like it was just another Tuesday.
She even gave me the unfiltered truth about my first boyfriend, Thomas, and his wandering hands.
She told me that getting felt up by some guy who peaked in high school wasn’t the epic romance story I was writing in my head, and maybe I should save my virginity for someone whose dick didn’t go into hibernation the second it got cold out.
And now I’ll never know if that handsome cowboy was swinging a lasso or just twirling a sad little shoelace.
“You coming down to the bar tonight?”
“Maybe… Can you let me know if Dillon’s there?”
Even though it’s been months since they split, my sister still carries the weight of knowing Dillon would’ve settled and played house forever if she’d just said yes to starting a family. He wants that big, messy Brady Bunch life, while she… well, she doesn’t even really know what she wants.
“You’ll be friends again someday, you know.”
“I hope so.”
I lean over and kiss the top of Violet’s head, and she swats me away with a laugh.
Pushing off the couch, I grab my keys and phone, shoving them into my back pocket before slipping into my coat.
It’s the kind of cold outside that makes your bones ache, and the second I step outside, I swear to god, my nipples feel like they’re about to freeze clean off.
Ten minutes later, my loyal little rust-bucket of a car rattles into the bar parking lot, and sure enough, the place is packed.
Trucks are lined up like cattle at feeding time, engines are still ticking, and tires are caked in mud.
Happy hour seems to bring out every cowboy and ranch hand within twenty miles, and honestly, I’m here for it.
Before I even push through the wooden doors, I hear laughter mixing with the clinking of bottles and the unmistakable sound of people who work hard and play even harder. It’s loud, a little wild, and thick with the scent of spilled beer and testosterone.
I love it here.
But then someone has to, considering Travis barely bothers to show his face in his uncle’s bar.
He doesn’t have time for this town or the family he has in it, while I’ve embraced them all.
Not just the Crawfords, who welcomed me with open arms, but everyone who calls this little town home.
These people have adopted me like a stray cat that wandered in and never left, and unlike Travis, who’d rather eat glass than spend an evening here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Inside, country music plays from the old jukebox in the corner, drowning out everything but the sharp crack of pool balls and the low murmur of men shaking off another day of frozen fingers and aching backs.
“Here she is,” Callan calls out over the noise, “the light of my life and savior of my day.”
“You’re just saying that because you know Old Jack won’t corner you with his ‘lost in the mountains’ story when I’m here.”
“Can’t deny it, but you are a beacon in here. Look around at all these swinging dicks—it’s nice to have a woman here to soften the place up.”
“You soft, Piper?” Christian’s voice slides over me like warm whiskey as he appears at the bar, his forearms resting on the wooden surface like he’s got all the time in the world. “Because I’ve seen you drag Travis’s ass before.”
“That’s because your son has a way of royally pissing me off.”
“You handle him well. He needs that.”
His eyes catch and hold mine, just like they have since the very first time we met.
We rarely share space with Travis, thank God, but Christian’s here every week, and the more time that passes, the more comfortable we get with each other.
Which only makes it harder to ignore the way my pulse kicks up every time he walks through that door or how my skin practically sparks whenever he leans across the bar to talk to me.
The easy friendship we’ve built should make things simpler, but instead, it’s like a slow torture.
Meanwhile, the better I get to know Travis, the more I see who he really is, and the less I can stand him. As soon as our time at the farm is over, I’m out. Done. No more pretending. No more faking it.
Because while I’m dating the son, it’s his father who makes my blood sing every time he walks into the room.
“Travis is coming here tonight,” I say, watching Christian out of the corner of my eye as I wipe down the bar.
“Yeah?” He straightens a little and tips his whiskey back like he suddenly needs it.
“Yeah, he’s staying at my place so we can head up to the farm together tomorrow, but don’t worry, I’ve already told him to play nice while he’s here. ”
Not that Travis has ever listened to a damn thing I’ve told him.
Christian exhales through his nose, already resigned. “We’ve got two weeks up at the farm together. We’ll see how long playing nice lasts.”
Travis and Christian’s relationship is… well, complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I’ve watched Christian try to maintain some kind of connection with his son, seen him reach out again and again, trying to bridge whatever gap exists between them.
But Travis doesn’t give a shit, not really.
He’s a mama’s boy through and through, and that woman is something else entirely.
All he sees are dollar signs from the farm that’ll eventually have his name on the deed.
He’s got no interest in the blood and sweat Christian has poured into that land over the years, and I’ll bet my last dollar that the second the ink dries on the paperwork, he’ll sell it off without a second thought.
“Is your sister coming down tonight?” Callan asks, wiping off a glass before turning his gaze to mine.
“She said she might. I think she’s worried about running into Dillon.”
He nods, setting the glass aside. “He won’t be here. He’s with his family for his sister’s birthday.”
That’ll ease Violet’s mind, at least.
I pull out my phone, thumbs flying over the keyboard as I shoot Vi a text, letting her know.
PIPER: All Clear. No Dillon tonight. Now come and have some fun with me before you lose me for a couple of weeks.
I’m behind the bar, serving customers and slinging drinks like we’re about to run out of liquor. The two-for-one special turns these cowboys into overgrown frat boys, and by eight, they’re stumbling out the door, too shit-faced to remember their own names, let alone last another round.
“Thank God that’s over.” Callan slumps over the bar while I stand beside him, feeling the ache in my feet.
“Silverpine Rodeo finals were today.” Christian tips his whiskey back, and no, I’m definitely not watching the way his throat works as he swallows or how his forearm flexes when he sets the glass back down.
Not at all. “You know these cowboys bleed into town after watching men try not to die for eight seconds.”
“Travis was there with his grandfather,” I say, grabbing water from the fridge and hip-nudging the door shut.
“How is that old bastard still living?” Callan’s question makes me snort in the most unladylike way.