Page 7 of Great Pretender
The steam reminds me of my temper.
I rest my hands on the countertop, taking another breath to cool down. I do want to give that motherfucker a good beating for what he put Piper through. But I have to will myself not to be reckless, or lose control.
I’m in enough shit as it is.
Aside from that, I should feel more ashamed of myself for not feeling bad that Heath and Piper are no longer together.
But I don’t.
And that’s a problem. A big one since it’s something I can’t control, and there’s nothing I hate worse than that.
I finish making the hot chocolate I promised and add a dash of Irish whiskey. I can’t help it. My grandfather was Irish, and his sayings rubbed off on me. He’d always tell me there was nothing a dash of whiskey couldn’t cure. Shock was one of his top ten on his list of ailments.
Piper’s in shock and she needs the calm so she can think straight.
I grab a few chocolate chip cookies, place them on a plate, and make my way upstairs to my bedroom. I have a few guest rooms, but my room is where we ended up.
As I walk in, my eyes meet hers, and I can’t help but look at her sitting on my bed wearing one of my football jerseys that swamps her tiny frame. The thing looks like a mini dress on her.
She has her knees hugged to her chest but straightens on seeing me come in. Now, her long golden legs are on display, and the way her ample breasts move under the fabric of the shirt is a dead giveaway she’s taken off her bra.
Those types of thoughts are absolutely not ones that should be in my mind. They should be banned, forbidden, non-existent given who she is and what she’s always been to me.
Yet here they are—a reminder of last night and why I lost control.
“Thank you,” she says, cutting into my thoughts.
“It’s double chocolate with cinnamon and hazelnut syrup.”
“My gosh, it’s the special treatment. Thanks, Chad.”
“You are more than welcome.”
She offers me a sweet smile that makes her eyes sparkle. She looks better than when she first arrived. More at ease, even if she’s not.
She must have cried for over an hour. I just about saw Murray leave. He made some sign with his hand, signaling he was going, and then mouthed the wordtomorrowas he headed out the door.
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow will be quite a day. Dad will be pissed that I ignored his calls, Mom will be the same when she sees me, and I don’t know what story the papers will write to follow up the shit from today.
I hand Piper the cup and the little plate of cookies.
She takes a sip of the chocolate and wrinkles her nose. “What else is in here, Chad?”
I chuckle. “Grandpa’s cure for the soul.”
“Whiskey, Chad? You’re giving me whiskey on a work night?”
“Drink it. We’re not going to argue about it tonight. You need it.”
She listens, and I lower to sit in front of her.
I’ve had to listen to the update through tears. I want to know more, though. Like why she didn’t tell me what Heath did weeks ago.
“It tastes nice. Like sugar overload with a kick of something else.”
“Yeah, I figured it would. How are you feeling?”
