Page 64 of Black Roses

“No.” I look past Skylar to the stairs, hoping Piper will come bounding down at any second. “She didn’t. Last I knew she was going into work.”

She waves me in, depositing Aaron in a nearby cradle. “She did. She worked the lunch shift yesterday.” Her questioning eyes sweep over me. “I’m confused. Because obviously you spent the night together on Saturday, and then you both begged out of brunch. We all assumed the two of you had finally gotten together and wanted some, um . . . alone time.” She winks. “But then I found out she took a shift at NYC. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

I shake my head with a sharp jerk. “Not at all. Quite the opposite. That night was one of the best of my life. Maybethebest. She finally—”

I stop my words mid-sentence. Skylar doesn’t know.

“She finally what?” she asks.

“Um . . . I think she finally realized that maybe we could be a couple.”

A triumphant smile sweeps across her face. “I knew it!” She claps her hands and then winces when she remembers the sleeping baby just yards away. “Wait. Then why is my little sister M.I.A?”

I shrug and run both hands through my hair in frustration.

“What, you think she’s having second thoughts?” she asks.

We share a look of defeat and then simultaneously pull out our phones to start texting and calling anyone who might have a clue.

I’m getting nowhere on the phone with Baylor when I see it in Skylar’s eyes. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but the way she’s looking at me right now—it’s the same damn way the doctor looked at me in the hospital seven years ago when he told me my parents were dead. Her eyes are full of unspoken words. They are heavy with sorrow. Her sympathetic gaze never falters from my prying eyes as she listens, nodding along with whatever she’s hearing.

She peels the phone slowly from her ear, closing her eyes as she sets in on the table in front of her. “What did you do to her?” she asks, her voice hollow, as if not knowing to accuse or support me.

My head tilts to the side as I ponder her question. “Do to her?”

A heavy weight settles in my chest.Oh, God. I pushed her too far Saturday night. She’s having some kind of delayed panic attack. “Nothing,” I say blindly, before flashbacks of her desperate chants send a burning wave of grief raging inside me. “I thought it was okay. I thought she was okay.” I tip my head back and blow out an agonizing breath. “Fuck, Skylar. What did I do?”

“I don’t know, Mason.” She walks over to me and grabs my shoulders, her petite frame forcefully turning my large one. She guides me towards the door. “But you’d better damn well figure it out. I’ve just been informed by my mother that she’s gone. She left New York and she’s not coming back. Not even for my wedding.” She opens the front door and pushes me through. “I love you. But I love my sister more. I hope whatever happened is just a misunderstanding. Fix this, Mason.”

The door slams shut behind me and I stand here, empty. As empty as I was the day my parents died.

I look down at my wrist, a constant reminder of what I lost. It makes me think of Piper’s bracelet. She touches it when she’s nervous, same as I do my scar. And I wonder—does it give her strength, or does it slowly suck the life from her?

I tap her name on my phone, but before I even hear it ring, it goes to voicemail. I plead with her to call me. To let me know where she is. To come back. I text her repeatedly as I rush back to my apartment, heading straight for the parking garage so I can go the only place I think may hold the answers.

Long Island.

~ ~ ~

Four angry eyes meet mine at the front door of her parents’ house after her father rips the door open. “You’ve got balls coming here,” he says. “I should call the police.”

Piper’s mom puts a hand on him, holding him back when he looks like he’s going to lunge at me. “Bruce, wait,” she begs, warring emotions evident in her teary eyes. “Look at him. He seems utterly wrecked. This is Mason. He’s practically part of the family. Maybe she’s mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” he spits at her as if she were a stranger. “You think our daughter is mistaken about this psychopath raping her?”

Jan cringes. Bruce hits the door with his fist.

I die inside.

She thinks I raped her? Oh, God. I did push her too far.

I double over, my hands meeting my thighs as I fight for breath. I’ll never be able to forgive myself. My body crumples, my back hitting the porch wall as my head finds its way between my knees. “No, no, no,” my broken voice stutters. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. She said she was ready. I thought she was ready.”

I can hear Bruce cussing over his hurt hand. Jan is crying—disappointment flowing with her tears. Her hand comes up to cover a heart-wrenching sob. “What kind of monster thinks a drugged-up sixteen-year-old can consent to sex?”

“Sixteen?”

It takes a minute to sink in. “What? Sixteen? No.” I look at their broken, angry faces. “Bruce, Jan, I’m confused and you are scaring the hell out of me. She told me what happened to her. She finally opened up to me Saturday night after I, after we . . .” I try to clear the desperation from my voice. “We tried being together but she panicked. That’s when she told me. She told me about the night she was raped and the boys who raped her. She slept in my arms after that. I thought she was okay.” I look at them, my expression pained and puzzled. “When she left my place yesterday she was okay.”

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