by James, Marie
I pull out my phone to do some research, but Dillon Clark doesn’t produce results for him. I can’t access Piper’s friend list because her accounts are on lockdown.
Frustrated, I head back inside and up the stairs. Peyton has to have more answers, and maybe she’s done taunting me.
I find my bratty sister sitting in front of her makeup mirror in her room.
“I won’t apologize for teasing you,” she says as soon as I edge open her partially closed door. “Piper deserves someone like that hunk.”
“What do you know about him?” I ask, instead of setting the record straight.
“Same as you.” Her words come out distorted as she contorts her face to apply something to her eyelashes. “Only what was in the journals. He moved away years ago. She had a huge crush on him, and from telling by the way they acted a little bit ago, he feels the same way about her.”
“Are you saying that shit just to get back at me?”
She turns to fully face me rather than looking at me in her mirror.
“You don’t deserve her. You’ve already caused enough damage to Piper. Leave her alone.”
“What did she tell you? I thought you were on my side.”
She huffs, her focus back on the mirror as she applies lipstick.
“That was before I knew how bad things were.”
“What changed?”
“Get out of my room, Dalton, and next time knock before you come in.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Better yet, don’t even bother to talk to me.”
“What the hell, Peyton? I haven’t done anything to you or her since I came home from the hospital. What gives?”
“She was right.” My sister shrugs like it’s no big deal to tell me to fuck off. “There’s no way she can forgive you. The pain you caused changed who she could’ve been a long time ago.”
“What’s going on?” I prod, refusing to give up. I thought I’d made some leeway with Piper, and I know for a fact that Peyton was coming around. “What happened between playing in the pool yesterday, and now that’s making you so hateful?”
“Let’s just say my eyes are fully open.”
“What does that even mea—”
“Can you go grab a pie from the diner?” Mom asks as she walks into Peyton’s room. She’s smiling, so she must not have overheard our conversation. “The diner is closed tomorrow, and we need it for the wake.”
“Can’t Peyton go?”
My sister huffs, and my mom stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head.
“She’s not old enough to drive,” Mom reminds me.
“You trust me to take your car?”
“Do you not want to drive?” she counters.
“I’m sure I remember how,” I mutter. “I’m not afraid.”
I don’t remember shit from the accident, so reliving the trauma isn’t a thing for me.
“I’ll go,” I agree.
“Money is downstairs by the front door. Get blueberry if they have it, apple if they don’t.”
I nod my head in agreement, trying to catch Peyton’s eyes one last time before leaving the room, but she refuses to look at me.
Piper kissed me back last night. Yeah, she shoved me away before we could kiss a second time, but her lips were all about mine during the first one. I get the feeling that whatever my sister is upset about is something that Piper is less concerned over, but with the attitude she’s flinging my way, I’ll never get that information out of her.
Ignoring it seems like the manly thing to do, hoping that Peyton’s irritation fades over time, but that’ll be near impossible to do. Neither one of us go anywhere, so avoidance is difficult. Asking Piper about it would be the next best thing, but if my sister is more worried about it than Piper, bringing it back up may be the wrong way to go.
Why are women so damn confusing?
I growl in frustration as I climb into my mom’s car. I have bigger things to worry about than my sister disliking me. I need to find out who the hell this Dillon guy is and what he is to Piper. My sister can stew in her anger until I have time to address it.
Chapter 20
Piper
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to town sooner,” Dillon says after swallowing a bite of pecan pie.
“How was the tattoo convention in Vegas?”
“Amazing.” His eyes light up at the mention. “There were so many people there. It was nuts but exhilarating as well.”
“I bet. I can only imagine the number of scantily clad women walking around.”
“You know it was the guys walking around shirtless that caught my eye,” he waggles his eyebrows, “but there was more skin showing than I thought there would be. They had wet t-shirt contests daily and ink competitions.”
“Did any of your work make it on the stage?”
His nose scrunches. “I haven’t been doing tats long enough to enter anything, but maybe next year I’ll have something to showcase.”
“You’ve definitely spent the last six months since your birthday covering yourself up.”
I appraise the bright colors on his arms. Dillon has always been an artist, but it wasn’t until two years ago that he wanted to take his designs from paper to skin. I’ve seen some of his work in the pictures he texts, and he’s already well on his way to being amazing.
“The guys at the shop love a blank canvas, so they did a lot of work on me. The pictures I sent you are mostly on them. Tattoo artists aren’t afraid to get a little amateur ink.”
“Didn’t seem too amateurish from the pictures you sent me.”
“I have a long way to go,” he says before taking another huge bite of pie.
He’s acting like everything is fine, but I know he’s heartbroken about his grandfather. Mr. Clark was loved by everyone in the community, and his passing is hard on many of the people that knew him. But this is just how Dillon has always been. He hides his pain, just like he hid who he really was for a long time.
“Tell me about the Prince of Payne,” he says after he swallows.
I nearly choke on my hot tea, sputtering it back into my cup. I forgot that’s what we’ve called him for years, especially since his asshole tendencies fully matured.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw how your eyes darted toward his house before we left to come here.”
“I’m tutoring Peyton,” I explain with a shrug. “There’s nothing going on with Dalton.”
“You’ve always been a horrible liar. Now, spill.”
“He’s been… nice.” I keep my focus on the table, knowing that if I look up at him, he’ll know there’s more to the story.
“Nice?” He chuckles. “Just how nice has he been to you, sweet Piper?”
“Don’t call me that.” I swat at his arm with the back of my hand.
He’s sitting on my side of the booth, and I love that we’ve always sat like this. When we were younger, it killed me to sit beside him with the huge crush I had on him, but he came out to me before he left for Oregon. Since then, I have managed to tamp down my crush, and we’ve morphed into an amazing friendship. Although I never told Dillon I liked him, he guessed when I tried to kiss him on Halloween many years ago. That’s when he told me that he loved me, but he liked guys that way. He softened the blow by telling me I’d be his ideal girl if he weren’t gay.
“How nice, Piper?” he prods.
“He hasn’t said a horrible thing to me since the accident. He told his friends off when they were picking on me yesterday. He kissed me last night.”
I wouldn’t confess that last part to Frankie because she’d skin me alive, but I need to tell someone. Since Dillon will be heading back to Oregon in a few days, I figure he’s my best bet. I can get advice, and he’s less likely to blow his top as my other best friend would.
“Kissed, huh?” His lips turn up in a huge smile, and it kills me how handsome he is. “Was it a good kiss?”
<
br /> “A great kiss.”
“This is just like a romantic comedy.”
“My life is more like Carrie than Hope Floats,” I murmur, forking my pie across my plate.
His grin never falters.
“I was going to ask you what I should do, but you have those little hearts in your eyes, so I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Oh, my answer is simple. Make him fall in love with you and then break his heart into a million pieces.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Not what I was expecting you to say.”
“Well,” he taps his inked finger against his chin, “if a fine piece of ass like Dalton Payne fell in love with me, I’d marry his sweet little ass and never let him leave the house. He’s the one who made me realize I was gay, remember?”
I do remember. Before Dillon left town, the crap Dalton and his friends pulled were child’s play. Back then, there were several kids who got pranked, and their focus wasn’t entirely on me. I think it had a lot to do with Dillon being around. He’s a year older and looked out for me in school. He was also a typical boy and saw the hilarity of spiders in my locker and a dead snake in my backpack.
Things changed after he left, but that Halloween night, when I questioned how he knew he was gay, he confessed his utter attraction to Dalton. Even as much of a crush as I had on Dillon, I’d always caught myself watching my next-door neighbor. I couldn’t deny that the boy was the cutest in my class. It was his spitefulness that has always kept me from admitting his good looks. It never stops Frankie of course, but I’ve never confessed my attraction out loud.
“I remember,” I huff. “Yes, Dalton is attractive.”
There I said it.
“Attractive?” Dillon laughs. “The man is sex on a stick covered in chocolate sauce. He’s way beyond sexy. You should do exactly what I said, and if you fall in love with him, too, then that’s a wonderful outcome as well.”
“I don’t think so,” I object. “Even if he is nicer, there’s no chance in hell I’ll let myself have feelings for that boy.”
“You mean more than you already have?”
“What?” I shake my head violently. “I don’t care about him at all.”
“And if he showed up here looking like my teenage wet dreams, you wouldn’t bat an eyelash?”
“Not a dang chance.”
A wide grin spreads his face, but then I notice movement across the diner, and I’ll be damned if the man in question isn’t walking in this direction.
“Put your arm around me,” I snap.
“What?”
“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Dillon sighs, but his arm slings around me like expected. He goes all out and nuzzles his nose up and down my neck. It’s all for show, but that doesn’t keep the cold chills from racing down my neck.
“Piper,” Dalton says as soon as he steps up to our table. “Crazy, seeing you here.”
“Best place in town for pie,” I remind him with my shaky fingers pointing at my half-eaten slice.
Dillon chuckles into my neck before nipping at the skin.
I yelp, and it only serves to make Dalton clench his fists at his sides. If I’m not careful, he’s going to end up attacking my oldest friend, and I can’t help but worry about his unhealed wrist, especially since he took the cast off before he was supposed to.
Of course, worrying about my lifelong tormentor makes me angry at myself.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Dillon chooses this time to pull his mouth from my throat. It takes everything I have not to wipe away the spit I feel drying there, and if I ever wondered if I still had those kinds of feelings for Dillon, those questions are now answered.
“Oh, hey, man. I’m Dillon.” He offers his hand, and although it takes an endless span of time to accept, Dalton finally takes it in his.
They spend an eternity, eyes locked, hands clenching tighter and tighter in a show of machismo that Dalton doesn’t realize is only one-sided.
Dillon is the first to let go, and I see victory flash in Dalton’s eyes.
“Sorry to hear about your granddad,” Dalton offers in a surprising show of sympathy. “How is your dad doing?”
“He was my mom’s dad,” Dillon corrects. “But she’s doing okay. Papa was sick and didn’t tell anyone. I think that hurts her more than anything.”
Dillon’s voice cracks, and it’s the first sign of pain he’s shown. I squeeze his thigh under the table in a show of support. His lip ticks up in the corner, letting me know that he understands the action. I hate that he’s hurting, but Dillon always deals with pain and grief in his own way. He only shuts me out when he’s sad. He doesn’t exactly distance me from his person, but it’s understood that if he doesn’t want to talk about something, there’s no way for me to change that. It’s just who he is.
“So, you’re friends with Piper?” Dalton asks as he settles on the other side of the booth.
“What are you doing?” I hiss before Dillon can answer him.
“I’m just getting to know Dillon a little better,” Dalton says with a sly grin.
“And I’m trying to spend time with my boyfriend.”
The grin disappears in a flash.
Chapter 21
Dalton
Boyfriend? No fucking way.
My knuckles crack when I fist them against my thighs, and hopefully, the conversations going on around us are loud enough to block out the sound.
What I can’t seem to control is the clenching of my jaw with her declaration.
“Boyfriend?” I manage in a nearly civilized tone. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“Have,” she counters. “As in have one presently, not past tense.”
“You haven’t mentioned him all week.” I challenge her with my eyes, but my glare doesn’t make her look nervous at all.
“We’ve been dating for years,” the asshole sitting across from me adds. “Since we were kids. We’re soul mates.”
“Nice.” I never take my eyes off hers, and at least she has the wherewithal to look a little ashamed. Heat creeps up on her cheeks as Dillon squeezes her close into his side.
But why is she ashamed? Is it because of the kiss we shared or the fact that she never even mentioned him before now? Is it possible that while spending time with me this last week, she actually forgot about her boyfriend? She sure as hell wasn’t thinking about him last night when she whimpered into my mouth the second my tongue brushed hers. He wasn’t on her mind when her fingers gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me closer.
I should bring up the kiss. The thought makes my eyes focus on her pouting lips, but I decide against bringing it up. I could blow their relationship apart with one single confession, but this man just lost his granddad, and as much as he’s trying to be strong, I can tell it hurts him. Plus, I’m no longer the asshole that ruins peoples’ lives, using any and all means necessary to kick them while they’re down.
Even with the ammunition I have, I’ll keep my lips sealed. I know she expects me to act like an asshole. That’s why the look on her face is almost comical when I keep my lips sealed.
I don’t need to worry about Dillon. All I need to focus on is my girl. I know I won’t win her with scathing words and a reminder that it was me she had her mouth on last night, not him. She probably already regrets the kiss. She doesn’t seem like the type to cheat, but she also doesn’t seem like the kind of person that would keep something like that a secret for long. The guilt would eat her alive, so I know she’ll tell him, eventually. I’ll leave her to it.
“Have we met before?” I figure bringing up the fact that I’ve lost all of my memories will knock him off his game. He’s already taken back his arm from around her, and she even scooted closer to the window an inch or so. There’s a level of victory in that as well. Does he suspect something is going on between the two of us?
There’s definitely an air of familia
rity surrounding them, and that’s a given considering how long they’ve been friends. Their connection was obvious by the way she jumped into his arms in her driveway, but he didn’t press his lips to hers then, and I know it would be the first thing I’d do if I’d been away from her for any length of time. I wanted to do it now, even with her boyfriend at her side.
I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her for any length of time. Hell, I wouldn’t be at the diner eating pie. I’d have her pressed against the wall with my tongue down her throat, needing the warmth of her body against mine, but maybe he isn’t controlled by his hormones.
That knowledge pisses me off even more. He’s more mature than me, and she teaches kids to read. She doesn’t seem to be ruled by her physical needs either. He’s better for her than I am, that much is clear, but it doesn’t make me want her any less. She’s liked him at least since the summer before sixth grade according to her journals, but there’s still something off about the way they’re behaving.
“We have,” Dillon answers, bringing me back to the inside of the diner instead of being stuck in my head, trying to figure out what the hell is actually going on. “I went to school here until halfway through the sixth-grade year.”
“I don’t remember any of it.” Has she told him about my memory loss, or is it only a big deal for me?
“That look.” Dillon points at me and smiles before turning toward Piper. “That’s the same look he had on his face in kindergarten when you chose to play with me rather than him.”
I swallow, hating to be the brunt of his joke, but I keep silent. Piper has suffered as such for years, so sitting here while her boyfriend makes fun of me isn’t a big deal. If anything, maybe it’ll make her realize I actually have changed. I don’t think the old Dalton would sit around while someone was intentionally making fun of him.
Piper smiles, too. “I chose mini marshmallows over fruit because I’m—”
“You’re allergic to strawberries,” I interrupt. My eyes find hers, and there’s a softness to her face when she looks at me. It’s reminiscent of the way she looked yesterday when she agreed to stop being rude and promised me she wouldn’t ignore me when I walked into a room. “Is that the day I pushed you down and got your dress dirty?”