9. Piper
Piper
The past three days have fallen into the same routine, and I’ve loved every second of it.
Travis has been out on deliveries, which means I haven’t had to deal with him much at all.
He eats, showers, and then goes to bed. And yeah, I’ve been expected to go to bed with him every night—except for the one I spent working at the bar—but thankfully, he’s been too exhausted to try anything.
Not that I’d let him. I’d rather set myself on fire than let Travis touch me.
Besides, I’m not about to fake another orgasm in a bedroom that’s mere feet away from the man I would sell my entire soul to have touch me just once.
I haven’t spent any real time alone with Christian, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it’s a small win because I can try and ignore my feelings, but his distance is eating me alive in ways I’m not ready to admit.
Even when I don’t see him, I feel him. I feel the tension strung tight between us, the weight of almost pressing down on my chest like a vice. And the worst part is that I know he feels it too.
I know because he won’t really look at me.
He goes out of his way to keep space between us and to be anywhere I’m not, always busy with something that conveniently takes him in the opposite direction.
You don’t work that hard to avoid someone unless being near them makes you feel things you’re not supposed to feel.
Just like yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, I head downstairs, ready to help where I can. But as I reach the door, I hear Travis’s raised voice coming from the kitchen.
I stop dead in my tracks, not because I’m scared, but because this is his and Christian’s fight. This is their unresolved bullshit bubbling up again like it always does, and I know I should turn around, walk away, and let them tear into each other without an audience, but I don’t move.
“Get someone else to do it. I’m not driving around all day.” Travis’s voice cuts through the house loud enough to make my pulse jump.
“Everyone has a job to do. You know that.”
“Yeah, well, I got dealt the shit hand here, and you damn well know it.” I inch closer to the doorway, my boots silent on the wooden floor. “If you didn’t want me around, you could’ve just said so, and I wouldn’t have dragged Piper into this mess.”
Dragged? Like I wouldn’t have crawled my own desperate, pathetic ass up here just to be near that hot daddy cowboy.
“You know what? This whole fucked-up situation isn’t even worth the breath I’m wasting on it.”
Christian exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to keep his patience from snapping in two. “This is all gonna be yours one day, Travis. You need to learn some responsibility. Take some fucking pride in it.”
“Maybe if you’d actually let me do something other than dragging trees around.”
“That’s part of the damn job.”
“Perfect. Then you can handle the grunt work today because I’m done.”
My stomach clenches as I step forward, moving before I can think better of it. I round the corner just as Travis storms toward me, his jaw tight and his shoulders bunched. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and his whole body radiates frustration.
Calm him down, I tell myself, but the second his eyes lock onto mine, I know it’s already too late .
“Come on, Travis, let’s just settle down. We’re here to help your dad.”
“Since when is this any of your fucking business, Piper? Pretty sure you’re just the tagalong girlfriend, not family.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Three words, that’s all it takes.
Christian Crawford doesn’t have to raise his voice to put someone in their place, especially not his son, whose mouth clamps shut so fast I can practically hear his teeth snap together.
However, Travis’s silence doesn’t mean he’s finished.
He steps in close, his breath warm against my ear as he leans down and whispers, “Move your fat ass out of my way and pack your things. We’re leaving tonight.”
I step aside, swallowing the humiliation whole.
My ass might not be small, but it’s a damn masterpiece, and I know it. But being fat-shamed in front of Christian—in front of the man I actually want—hits differently.
Travis marches past me without another word, shoving the door open so hard it rattles against the frame. He doesn’t look back, and the sound of the door closing is the only thing left of him.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” I lie, but I know I must be wearing it all over my face.
Christian’s jaw clenches hard, and the muscles jump beneath his skin as his body goes rigid. He’s reading me like a damn book, and whatever he’s seeing has him pivoting toward the door, already halfway to storming out and hunting Travis down.
“Christian, stop. Please.”
My hands find his chest before I can think better of it, and he’s solid beneath my palms, all hard muscle and a thundering heartbeat that gives away just how close he is to losing it.
“Please don’t,” I whisper. “He just told me to get out of his way.”
My hands fall away from his chest, but he doesn’t move. He just stares down at me like he’s trying to decide whether to believe me or go find out for himself.
“Is that all?”
I bite down on my lip and nod. He knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he drags a hand across his stubbled jaw while I wrap my arms around myself.
“I’m sorry about that. Travis…” He lets out a pained laugh. “I think things will always be like this between us.” The hurt in his eyes makes my chest ache, and I have to fight the urge to reach for him again.
“Has it always been this bad between you?”
“It’s never been great.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re the problem.
I really do believe his family has a lot to answer for—his mom’s side, I mean.
” I lean back against the counter, trying to look anywhere but at him.
“Spending time with the Beaufords is like willingly walking into a pit of snakes. Last time Travis dragged me up there, I spent the entire weekend wondering how many drinks it’d take before I could fake food poisoning and get the hell out. ”
“Do you mind being here?”
“Not at all.”
And just like that, we fall back into this easy way of existing around each other. None of the tension, restraint, or near mistake has changed the fact that being around Christian feels right.
“You’re good for Travis.” Christian’s eyes find mine, holding me captive, and I catch the exact moment he realizes something’s off. Because no matter how good I might be for Travis, it doesn’t change the fact that Travis isn’t good for me. “What is it?”
“The truth is, we’re hanging on by a thread.
Whether I’m good for him or not doesn’t change where our relationship is heading.
So I suggest you use me for whatever you need now because I doubt I’ll be welcomed back once things end between us.
” A bitter laugh escapes me before I can swallow it down.
“Which would be today if I weren’t more interested in staying here and watching all these families make memories on your farm. ”
Christian’s chest rises and falls fast as he turns away from me, gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turn white against the dark granite. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second before opening them to stare out the window at the snow-covered fields in the distance.
“Does he know?”
“He can’t think things are going well, so I’m sure his head is in the same place.
” I take a step forward, not even sure why, only that there’s something between us pulling me closer.
“I hope that doesn’t make you think less of me, but I can’t keep pretending.
I won’t.” My voice drops to barely a whisper.
“And I think, after what happened in here the other morning, you wouldn’t respect me if I did… all things considered.”
His eyes snap to mine, and suddenly, words feel pointless. The air between us is charged with everything we almost did and everything we’re still desperately trying not to want.
“We can’t?—”
“I know,” I whisper, cutting him off before he has to say it out loud.
But knowing we can’t doesn’t make the ache go away. It doesn’t stop the way my heart kicks up when he looks at me like I’m something he’d fight for if the circumstances were different.
“Come on.” He straightens and moves away from the counter. “I need to reorganize everything since Travis decided to take an unplanned vacation.”
I follow Christian down the path, and there’s Preston, who’s the living embodiment of a Christmas card grandpa.
His thick white hair catches the morning sun, his mustache twitches with concentration as he works, and he’s completely unfazed by the cold.
Most men his age would be planted in a recliner, nursing a coffee while flipping through the channels on TV.
But not Preston. He’s out here every day, moving through the trees like he was born for this.
“Pres?”
“Yeah.” Preston straightens up, wiping his gloved hands on his jacket, and I swear he’s got more energy than half the twenty-somethings I know.
“Travis has fucked off, so I’ll be handling deliveries today.” Christian runs a hand through his hair, already working out the logistics. “I’ll get Callan for the chopping, but we’ll need to shut down at two so he can open the bar. That work?”
“Yeah, I’ll track down Billy and give him the heads-up.”
I watch Christian take control of the situation, and the contrast between father and son couldn’t be more obvious.
Here’s a man who handles his business and steps up when things go sideways.
Meanwhile, my boyfriend—and god, even thinking that word makes me cringe now—is probably halfway to his mother’s house, ready to let her coddle him like she has since he was in diapers.
And that’s the difference.
One is a man.
The other is a boy who’s clearly never figured out how to stand on his own.