Page 24 of The Keeper

The ride up was silent, the air between us thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions. I fidgeted with the gold band on my thumb, twisting it around and around as I tried to gather my racing thoughts. The confession I’d rehearsed a thousand times in my head suddenly felt all wrong.

When the doors slid open, Dane steered me toward the empty chairs in front of the bar. The terrace was mostly deserted save for a few people taking in the Dallas Steel’s practice facility and a couple relaxing in the temperature-controlled pool.

A gust of wind caught my hair almost as soon as I sat down, blowing the long strands across my face. His fingertips grazed my cheek as he reached out to tuck them behind my ear, sending a jolt of longing through me.

“Uh, you go first,” I said when the bartender approached to take our order. “I’m still deciding.”

“Whiskey, neat,” Dane requested before looking at me expectantly.

“I’ll have…” I chewed on my lip, weighing my options. It had been ages since I’d had a real drink—motherhood had put an end to my social life. But if there was ever a time I needed some liquid courage, it was now.

“I’ll have the same. Actually, you know what? Make mine a double—what?” I asked when Dane did a double take.

“Nothing,” he said with a chuckle. “Just surprised.”

I snatched up my glass and took a large gulp as soon as the bartender slid it over, hissing out a wheezy cough.

“Jesus,” Dane muttered with a low whistle. He held up his own glass. “Cheers, I guess.”

“Cheers,” I rasped, clinking my glass against his before knocking back the remaining liquor with a shudder.

God, it was like drinking acid.

He sipped his whiskey more slowly, watching me with a mixture of amusement and concern. “You all right there?”

“Fine,” I croaked, setting my empty glass down with athunkand signaling the bartender for another round.

The burn in my throat settled into a pleasant warmth that spreadthrough my chest, draining the tension from my shoulders and giving me a false sense of courage.

“I wanted to say I’m so sorry about your nephew. I can’t even imagine.”

He nodded stiffly, staring down into his glass. “It’s been a living hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” he admitted, his deep voice thick with emotion. “I keep thinking about all the signs I missed, you know? The things I could’ve done differently.”

“You have to know it isn’t your fault.” I reached out, placing my hand over his much larger one.

“Isn’t it?” he asked with a humorless laugh, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight. “I’m the one who gave him shitty advice, and when he called me upset because it all went wrong, I wasn’t really listening. I could have stayed on the phone with him instead of rushing to get off so I could…”

He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. So he could meet me.

“Don’t,” Dane said quietly as if reading my thoughts. “I’m not blaming you. I don’t regret anything that happened between us that night, Piper. I need you to know that.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I absorbed his words. The rational part of my brain knew he was right, that Levi’s decision wasn’t on either of us. But I couldn’t help but feel the sting of culpability.

“GQ was the one who came to get me. By the time I realized I had no way to reach you, it was too late.”

He took another small sip of whiskey, the muscles in his throat rippling as he swallowed. “I tried to play it cool earlier but fuck it. I came for you today. I know I fucked up by disappearing on you without a word, but if you give me another chance, I promise things will be different this time.”

I stared into the amber depths of my second glass as if it held all the answers I so desperately needed, like some boozy magic eight-ball.

“I can’t sleep with you,” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my whiskey-loosened lips before I could stop them. Now I remembered why I never drank on an empty stomach because tipsy Piper had no filter. “I mean, I won’t. Sleep with you, that is.”

Dane ran a hand over his jaw and blinked at me, clearly taken aback. “Shit. At least buy me dinner first.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a lopsided grin that did dangerous things to my insides.

The heat from the liquor spread into my lower belly, and I squirmed in my seat. “Things are—they’re different now.”

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