“No. And then he left because the ex died in a car accident.”
“And he’s only just telling you this now?” Jess sips coffee and ponders for a moment. “All I’m hearing is that he’s head over heels in love.”
“Not helping.”
“I’m serious.” Jess clutches the rose quartz. “I’m getting that he’s in denial, or trying to shake the feelings off completely. That’s why he held off telling you for so long.”
“What?”
“Think about it. He could’ve told you weeks ago, right when you first met, and cleared the air. But no. He wanted you to hate his ass. Why?” Jess holds up her hands before I can answer. “That, I know the answer to—he’s afraid of intimacy.”
I sit back in the chair and focus on my coffee for a moment. Coffee is easier. It doesn’t know how to dirty talk and bend you over a desk when you should be sleeping.
“I set the fire.”
Nowthatis what gets Jess spitting out her coffee. Her entire face goes cold. “What do you mean you set the fire?”
“I thought I had it under control. In no way shape or form did I plan to burn down my whole house, but it happened.”
“Then whatwereyou hoping for by starting a fire in your home, Piper?”
“Some compensation from the stove company.” The guilt lowers my voice to a whisper. “Sonny needed new clothes. I wanted to spoil him a little. Maybe get us out of town for a while with the rest of the—” I shut up before I lose Jess more than I already have. “I have nothing to say except that I’m sorry.” I head over tothe bar and discard the rest of my coffee. “Here.” I hand the bags of clothes over to her. “Take these.”
Jess looks at the bags with a disappointed expression, and some confusion. “You could have just asked.”
“I know.” I wince, the guilt doubling. “I know all of that now. I’m gonna take the rest of my break outside. I need some air.”
I head out, hoping for the summer breeze to fix me. It doesn’t. I take a short walk along the harbor boardwalk, listening to the soft chiming of boat bells, when I realize there’s another place I’d rather be.
I left my car parked on the street by my house, so I use public transport to get out into the forest. It’s the only thing certain to cure me.
However, as soon as the bus disappears off into the trees, I realize that the dense forest was a plus. The real cure was Caleb.
It’s been nine years since I stepped foot onto a hiking trail. This one barely exists and is overgrown with all kinds of weeds that are all trying to trip me up.
This isn’t the exact location where Caleb and I used to hike, but it’s something.
The kids are at school and Caleb is working. Grace is on pickup duty this afternoon, which saves me from having to race back into town. She’s friendly enough and a fun friend to have around, but my pulse staggers every time she and Caleb are in the same room.
She has a big crush on him, but to be honest, it’s becoming borderline obsession.
Caleb never shows signs that he’s interested, but that could change. We’re trialing out being friends now, which is a disaster waiting to happen. But less disastrous than the other alternative he suggested—friends with benefits. I can’t go falling back in love with him again…
Though I’m already over halfway there already.
I have my son to focus on bringing up. I can’t afford to get close to Caleb again. The next time he leaves, I’ll shatter and be unable to be a mother for Sonny.
But I’m still wondering how the fuck I’m gonna be friends with this man after all our history.
Temporary,I remind myself.Wait it out. Soon it’ll be over.
But James Taylor is taking his sweet time with that case. And after that suspiciously parked car yesterday, my overthinking brain tells me that I’m being stalked by him.
The bastard is going to even more extreme lengths than I did to get the money in the first place.
I tackle my way through overgrown bushes and make it into the forest. A section of it, anyway. These trees continue on forever, and Caleb and I used to get lost in them on the weekends.
We came out here the day before he left, took a spontaneous road trip in his rented truck and found ourselves at some deadbeat diner on the side of the road.
