“Was this …? Is this …?” I stall. I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask as I back up a step.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I continue to back up away from him until my calves hit the couch, and I fall down onto it. A sob breaks free from my chest, a mix of distress and relief battling through my system, and he moves to me, crouching down and reaching forward, pulling me to his chest. I close my eyes and press my forehead against his shoulder, and I cry.
“Freckles,” he says, the uneasiness seeping into his tone making my heart squeeze. “Honey, don’t cry. Firefighters are already there, so is Jase and Wes, Jimmy and Kim. It’s gonna be okay.”
Sniffling loudly, I pull away from him, wiping my face with the palms of my hands. “We have to go. I need to get home.”
“You just stay down here, yeah?” he says, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, holding me still as I try to rise. “I’ll get us back to the docks as quickly as I can.”
I want to help him get us back, but I can’t. I don’t know how, don’t have a clue what to do, so I do as he says, staying put on the couch, knowing I’ll just be in the way if I try to follow him.
My knees shake as I fidget with my dress, chewing on my bottom lip, as the boat speeds back to the docks. It feels as though it takes hours for us to stop, and another hour for Vance to secure the boat and round up our things, before we’re finally piling into his truck.
Vance pulls out of the parking lot and speeds until we reach my house. We don’t speak on the drive, but he does keep a comforting hand on my thigh the entire way, rubbing and squeezing, trying to ease my nervousness. I spend the drive with my focus on the dashboard, trying hard to keep my cool and not hyperventilate.
He parks at the curb, behind a line of police cruisers, and I’m out of the truck, walking toward the chaos before he even cuts the engine.
It feels strange walking toward my house right now.
Unreal.
It’s too bright, too many lights flashing and people shouting. My neighbors are lining the sidewalk, trying to get a look.
Strange and overwhelming.
Vance comes up behind me as I reach the fire truck, his large, warm hand wrapping gently around my bicep, pulling me to a stop. The truck is parked half on my lawn and half on the street, blocking all traffic, the hose hooked up to the fire hydrant at the curb in front of my neighbor’s house.
“Piper, hold up a second,” he says. “You can’t just run in there, honey.”
“Right,” I whisper, my head bobbing up and down. “We should find the person in charge and, uh, maybe—”
“Yo, Vance!” someone shouts, and my words stall as I turn to see Wes jogging toward us, Kim struggling to keep up behind him.
Vance squeezes my bicep, his warm hand reassuring and comforting, and then he lets go, turning his full attention to Wes, as he launches in, giving us all the details.
I hear words like firebomb … kitchen … living room … through the windows … contained … partial from the cameras … red Mustang … license plate … but my brain doesn’t register the entire conversation, as my eyes take in the firefighters and police and the smoke still coming from my house.
So many people.
So much smoke.
And then my eyes land on my truck, parked in the driveway.
“How did my truck get here?” I ask, interrupting Wes, frowning with confusion.
Vance cuts his dark eyes to mine. “What?”
“My truck,” I say. “How did it get here?”
His brow furrows and he regards me peculiarly, as though he’s not sure why I’m worrying about my truck right now. “Jase picked it up from the shop and brought it over this afternoon.”
Feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the cool night air, I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. “Do you think the person thought I was home?”
“Piper,” Kim whispers, her gaze holding steady on my distraught face as she grabs my hand, squeezing it. “Aw, sweetie, don’t think about that. It’s going to be okay.”
I blink at her. Don’t think about it? How can I possibly not think about it?
Vance’s arm comes around me then, pulling me tight into his side. My body is trembling, I realize. I can feel it vibrating against his arm. I feel my stomach turn and my heart race.
Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.
I say nothing, because I don’t know what to say. My gaze shifts back to my house, my eyes taking in the smoke pouring out of the broken windows and the firefighters moving in and out of the doorway, making sure the fire is out.
I’m aware that Vance and Wes are still talking, but I don’t have a clue what’s being said.
This is bad.
I thought it was bad before. My God, I was in a car accident because of this … this person, but this …
“Plates belong to Tara Smith,” Jase says as he walks over to us, drawing my attention away from my house. “Cruz is sending a unit to her place now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Vance
“Hey.”
I pull my eyes away from my cell phone and look up as Piper slides onto the couch beside me. I blink a few times, trying to clear the image of the text message I just received from my mind, but it does little to help. The damn message has imprinted itself behind my eyes, twisting up my insides and leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
I glance at her, forcing a smile, and then I do a double take when I notice she’s wearing one of my old tees. It’s large on her, hanging off one shoulder and falling mid-thigh, but she looks good in it.
Really good.
“Hey,” I say quietly, my smile suddenly feeling more genuine as I turn to face her. “How you doing, freckles?”
“I’m okay,” she replies just as quietly, eyeing me strangely. “You look, uh ... tense. Is something wrong?”
I stare at her, surprised she picked up on my unease. I’m usually pretty good at hiding my emotions and keeping my expression blank.
I don’t respond right away, my eyes instinctively gliding along her face and over her body, wondering if she really is okay. It’s shortly after nine in the morning, and we’re at my apartment. We woke up about twenty minutes ago, and the first thing Piper did was pick up her phone and call the insurance company, which I’m sure wasn’t fun.
But as my eyes trail over her, I notice that she looks okay. Tired and a little stressed, but there’s a subtle determination in her eyes that tells me she’s holding it together.
“It’s not my truck, is it?” she asks, her tone slightly panicked. “Please don’t tell me something’s wrong with my baby. I just got it back.”
I smirk, letting out an amused laugh. Of course she’d worry about her truck. “It’s not your truck, freckles.”
“Then what is it?” she asks, looking skeptical.
I cut my eyes to my phone, still clasped in my hand, before glancing back at her. Might as well get it over and done with, I guess. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”
I see her flinch at my words and she pulls her feet up onto the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, leaning away from me. She looks at me, her eyes cagey, and she whispers, “There’s bad news?”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I’ve seen that look before on her and I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
It’s a look she’s given me a hundred times before, the one that comes just before she runs away, or dismisses me, and seeing it right now cuts deep.
Really fucking deep.
Maybe it isn’t the same one. It’s possible she’s just feeling overwhelmed by the shit storm surrounding her, but it sure feels like she’s about to blow me off.
I reach over, putting my hand on her cheek. A nervous tick there has all of my protective instincts firing up. I want to take care of her—more so than usual—and the sudden worry that she isn’t going to let me has my nerves on edge.
Moving my hand from her cheek, I settle
it at the nape of her neck, squeezing gently. “Yeah, Piper, there’s bad news.”
Sucking in a breath, she closes her eyes, and turns her face away, considering for a tick. “I suppose I should go with the bad news first, but I don’t think I want to hear it. Ever. Maybe you can just give me the good news and keep the bad to yourself?”
Her response makes me chuckle, and she gives me a dirty look, pursing her lips, and I let my hand drop from her neck. “Thought you wanted to be informed and involved.”
“Yeah, well, I think I want to change my mind on that,” she says. “At least for today.”
“Okay, freckles,” I say, chuckling again. “Good news it is then. Cruz pulled in Chad Miller last night and he ID’d Tara as the blonde who paid him to loosen your tire.”
She frowns and tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, biting on it. “Okay ... Okay. That’s good, I think, for Chad at least. So, what’s the bad news?”
I cock a brow at her. “Thought you didn’t want to know the bad news.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I want to know it now.”
She sounds not nearly as confident as normal, and I hesitate, knowing she’s not going to like what I have to tell her, but I can feel her gaze as she waits for my response as I set my cell phone down on the coffee table, and pick up my coffee, taking a deep sip.
“They haven’t found Tara yet,” I say slowly, keeping my tone as unbothered by the news as possible. “Cops searched her place and by the looks of things, they’re figuring she took off in a rush. Clothes were a mess, all over the bedroom, and her dresser drawers were half emptied, hanging open. They’ve put out a BOLO on both her and her car, but so far, nothing.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters under her breath, and then she scrunches up her nose, looking at me curiously. “Uh, what’s a BOLO?”
“It means be on the look-out,” I tell her, and take another sip of my coffee. “I also heard from Jimmy while you were on the phone with the insurance company. Tara reached out to him. Sent him a text saying she was going to her parents in Orlando. She needs time to think about the baby. Cruz has that information, too, and he’s working on setting up a unit on that end to pick her up when she arrives.”
“This is really screwed up,” she says. “All of it. I just ... I don’t even know what to think. The spray paint ... the warnings ... She wants me to stay away from Jimmy, but I don’t understand how she could think that there’s anything going on between us.”
I do. At first I thought the same thing. The two of them are close. Too close. And even though I know they are just friends, and that they work together, it’s been hell knowing that he’s living with her.
Pure hell.
I can completely see how Jimmy’s ex would think that there was more going on between them than there is.
But instead of getting into that, I say, “You didn’t tell me Jimmy’s ex is knocked up.”
“It wasn’t my news to tell,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “And she’s not really pregnant. According to Jimmy, she can’t have kids. It’s just a story, something to get his attention, something to guilt him into coming back.”
I’m silent for a moment, regarding her incredulously. She says it as though it’s no big deal, and to her, perhaps it isn’t. To me, though ... If I’d have known that Jimmy’s ex was causing him so much trouble, I would have looked into her already. Might have even been able to stop this shit before it went this far. She hadn’t put either of them on the secondary list I had her write up. Never mentioned a word about his issues. But I can tell by looking at her that she never thought about it, never considered the fact that all the vandalism could have been because of one of her friends, so I don’t push it.
There’s no point, and it’ll probably just piss her off.
“How’d it go with the insurance company?” I ask casually, shifting the topic. “You get everything settled there?”
She hesitates, narrowing her eyes at me, and for a long moment, I think she’s going to ask more questions about Tara. Questions I just don’t have the answers to—yet.
“I’m not really sure,” she replies eventually. “They’re sending an adjuster over to my house for eleven, so I guess I’ll know more after that.”
“We’ll head over there after I get some food in you,” I say. “Want you to pack up whatever you’re gonna need to stay here for the next little while.”
“Oh, uh, thanks, but you don’t have to take me. Kim’s meeting me there and …” she stalls for a tick, her brow furrowing, as she regards me hesitantly. “Did you just say I’m staying here for the, uh, next little while?”
I nod. “Yeah, I did.”
“I can’t do that,” she says right away, shaking her head.
I cock a brow at her. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because, I, uh …” Her face flushes. “I … I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”
My brow dips as I frown at her. “You’re my girl and I take care of what’s mine, so I’m not seeing what isn’t good about you staying here.”
“I’m your girl?” she asks. Her tone is hesitant, but a small smile touches her lips and her pretty eyes brighten with both fear and excitement.
I nod my head slowly, grinning as I watch her head bob up and down with mine.
So goddamn adorable.
“I’ve got a feeling you’ve been my girl for a long time now,” I say, inching toward her slowly, my expression serious. “I was just too stupid to realize it.”
Piper’s eyes sparkle and her cheeks burn brighter. She tugs the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it nervously. “I … uh … I …”
“You get that I’m keeping you, right?” I ask, ignoring her stammers, staring her in the eyes as I move closer still, until the tip of my nose brushes against hers.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move away, instead, leaning into me and pressing a barely there kiss on my lips. “Good,” she whispers against my mouth. “Because I think I want to keep you, too.”
Piper
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kim sounds nervous and she clearly isn’t all that thrilled that I’ve chosen to stay with Vance instead of moving back into my room at her place. She’s sitting on Vance’s bed, legs crossed and elbows on her knees, watching me as I unpack the few things I managed to grab from my house.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I say as I grab one of my tops, sniff it, and toss it back in my bag. The fire was contained to the living room and kitchen, but the scent of smoke wasn’t and it’s clinging to most of the fabric.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t come back to the apartment,” she says exasperatedly. “Your room’s still there, exactly how you left it.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “So it’s completely empty?”
“No,” she says. “It still has that bookcase in it.”
“Kim, that bookcase isn’t mine and it’s built into the wall. Of course it’s still there.”
She frowns at me and raises an eyebrow, silently asking me if I have a point.
Sighing, I pick up a pair of skinny jeans and give them a sniff. Ugh, smoky. I should probably just dump everything into the wash and be done with it, but I’m really hoping to find something—anything—clean enough to wear tonight for Jason’s barbeque.
“He cleaned out a drawer and half the closet for you.”
“So …?”
Kim rolls her eyes, a slight flush pinking her cheeks as she rolls onto her stomach on the bed, and stares at me with her chin in her hands. “So … that means he’s serious. I don’t think you’re ready for his kind of serious.”
Tell me about it.
No, scratch that, don’t tell me. My nerves are jumpy enough as it is.
I cut my eyes at her. “I don’t understand why you suddenly have such an issue with me hooking up with Vance.”
“Piper,” she stalls, sighing dramatically. “I don’t have an issue with you and Vance. I’m happy about
it. Honestly happy. It’s just that … It’s just that I want to make sure you’re doing this for you, because you want to be here with him, and not because Vance bossed you into it.”
I give her a bored look, hoping it’ll mask my own nerves as I try to calm them. The truth is, Vance did sort of boss me into staying with him, but I also didn’t protest too much, because when a badass hottie asks you to stay with him, you consider it, but when a badass hottie asks you to stay with him and then tells you you’re his girl, you do it. No questions asked.
“I want to be here,” I say. “I trust him and I think it’s safer for all of us if I’m staying here.”
Rolling her eyes, she gives me a look. “Where is he, anyway? He didn’t even say goodbye to me before taking off from your place. He never does that.”
I shrug. “He got a call from Wes, but he should be here soon.” Then, needing a shift in topic, I ask, “Have you heard from Jimmy today?”
“Yeah, he got a room at Clear River Inn. I told him he could stay with me, but with Tara being MIA and the fire at your place …” she lets her words fall off, shrugging helplessly.
My brow furrows. I’m not sure how to feel about that. “He won’t answer my calls. All I got was a text message that said I’m sorry.”
“Well, he should be.” I’m momentarily caught off guard by her sharp response, and before I can question her anymore, her phone chimes. Kim jumps up off the bed, darting across the room to her purse, and rummages through it. She pulls out her phone, glances at it, and then groans. “Crap, I’ve gotta run. Stupid dentist appointment. I’ll give you a call later, and remember, the room’s there for you if you want it, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply. “I’ll remember that.”
With a quick hug, she’s out of the room and rushing for the door, her purse slung over her shoulder. To be honest, I don’t expect to think about my old room at all.
Once she’s gone, I flip the deadbolt back in place and then head to the kitchen to check on the pie. I open the oven, glance in, and then shut it again. It could still use another couple of minutes, I think.