Cutting Ties (Book 2) (Piper Anderson Series)

by Danielle Stewart

  She searched the room for Bobby who had tumbled off the bed and was currently rubbing the spot above his eye that she’d nailed with her elbow.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shifting herself in bed to get a better look at him. “I was dreaming, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  “I think falling out of bed every time we have sex isn’t a habit we should get into. People are going to start talking.” He climbed back up to the bed and she examined his eye, marked red but not bleeding or swelling. “What were you dreaming about?” he asked, rubbing her cold shoulder with his warm hand.

  She thought about it for a minute. She considered how conflicted Mr. Olivares must have been, how scared he probably was that day. He’d never really looked at her again. They never spoke about any of it. When she’d come in the following day, fresh bruises on her arm, he’d ignored them, and she let him. Welcomed it really. She didn’t blame Mr. Olivares for his decision.

  Piper now realized that he had been younger than she was now. He’d probably never seen anything like the world she grew up in, and maybe he just couldn’t find a way to justify the risk. He was one of dozens who stood by and quietly ignored the epidemic in her school. His complacency was nothing more than self-preservation, and she had forgiven him.

  Escaping her own mind, she decided answering Bobby’s question with the level of detail he wanted wasn’t what she needed right now. “Hell,” she whispered leaning into him for a hug. “I was dreaming about hell.” She had truly come through hell to get to this moment. But at least tonight, she’d been able to glimpse heaven.

  Chapter Four

  Piper kept encountering moments that felt like they should be memories from another time in her life. Things she’d never experienced, but should have. Betty would occasionally do something overtly maternal like pack her a lunch in a brown bag for when she’d spend the day at work with Michael. There would be a paper napkin folded inside with an encouraging note written in Betty’s swirling scrawl. A few days ago while Piper was sitting on the floor watching television, without saying a word, Betty sat on the couch behind her and began braiding her hair. Betty acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And in that moment, to Piper, it felt like it was. She wasn’t sure if a person could play catch-up, if you could backfill all the things you had missed in your life, but she figured it didn’t hurt to try.

  Now, sitting on the floor of Jules’s room and listening to music while they painted their nails, Piper knew she was taking part in another missed moment. It didn’t hurt that the ambiance of the room, with all its pink ruffles and heartthrob posters, transported them back to feeling like teenagers again.

  “Do you think I’m easy?” Jules asked as she blew on her wet nails, glowing with fresh red polish.

  “Do you mean easy as in promiscuous?” Piper replied nervously, not prepared for this question. Up until this point they had been casually gabbing about television shows they liked.

  “Yes. Do you think what I’m doing with Michael makes me look easy? You and Bobby haven’t been together long, but at least you know you love each other. I can’t even figure out if Michael and I would be together if he didn’t feel like he had to be here to protect me. He never talks about his feelings, so I sure as hell don’t want to be the one to say anything. Maybe that makes me stupid for keeping this up.” Jules reached for the polish and touched up one of her nails as she spoke.

  “If I had to judge you by your nail polish colors here I would say yes, you must be easy. Who names these things? Pop my Cherry Red and Morning After Mauve, are they serious? Good thing these aren’t the same people responsible for naming crayons.” Piper tipped each bottle over, reading the labels, amazed by the innuendo the companies were able to get away with. “You and Michael are two grown, single people who aren’t hurting anyone else. I don’t think what you’re doing is any reflection on your morals. It won’t change my answer, but I’m curious now, do you have feelings for him or is it purely physical?” Piper had never engaged in girl talk before, but she assumed that was what one would call this. She was surprised to realize she actually didn’t mind it. It was nice to be here with someone her own age and talk about things other than her father.

  “For a while I wasn’t sure. He’s so different than anyone I’ve ever been with. He comes off as a little pretentious and arrogant, but then you get to know him and you see he isn’t like that at all. The sex is incredible. No, it’s more than that—it is life changing. I’m pretty sure if Michael and I don’t work out I’ll have to go on a quest for the rest of my life looking for something as satisfying. The man is like a machine. He never gets tired of finding ways to drive me crazy. I feel like I’ve enrolled in a Kama Sutra class.”

  Piper didn’t make eye contact through this part of the conversation. This level of girl talk clearly took more practice. She wasn’t quite ready to discuss Michael’s sexual expertise. She wanted to be able to look him in the eye next time she saw him, not in the crotch. If Jules started talking anatomy or size she’d need to cut her off there.

  Luckily, Jules took it a different direction. “I think what I’m struggling with is maybe I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like anymore to be in love. Bobby was my first love, but now looking back, it was so familiar and comfortable that I feel like we loved each other the way you’d love family.

  “Then I dated a few guys after him, mostly local guys who just kind of sputtered along in life, going from work to home to a fridge full of beer and sports on television, then back to work the next day. Scott…well he was a whole other story. I’m afraid I won’t know what love is when I find it. Despite how good I feel when I’m with Michael, maybe there’s more out there for me. How do you feel when you’re with Bobby?” Jules had begun filling the spaces between her toes with cotton as she readied them for polish. She hardly looked up as she spoke, but Piper could hear the weariness in her voice. She’d clearly been giving this all a lot of thought.

  “When I found Bobby I felt like I’d been driving alone for days and he came along and took the wheel. Instead of that scaring me like it has in the past, I felt so relieved, so grateful. I’m not sure, but I think love is different for everyone. I think it’s about finding the person who shows up and fills in whatever holes you have, and you do the same for him. He doesn’t exploit your insecurities; he calms them. He patches you up and dusts you off, and the whole time he’s doing that he never takes his eyes off you. When you’re with him are you more yourself than you are without him?” Putting into words what finding Bobby had done for her struck Piper in the heart. She felt a warm pang of emotion as she talked about finding the man who helped her find herself.

  Jules could see the impact on Piper’s face, and even as she contemplated her own situation she found joy in what Bobby and Piper had found in each other. “If I put my pride aside, and stop worrying he may not feel the same way, then yes I want something more with him. I know I’m dramatic and impatient. I can be rash and I hold grudges for an unhealthy length of time. I went out and married that idiot Scott just to spite Bobby’s career choice. But when I’m with Michael, I take an extra breath before I speak. I don’t want to be melodramatic and reckless with my words. I watch him, the way he carries himself. I listen to him, hear how intelligent he is, and it makes me proud. He’s not even really mine to be proud of, but that’s how I feel. The way people look at him, the way they respect him—it makes me want to be a better person myself.”

  “That’s a pretty good start,” Piper said, impressed by the amount of thought Jules had given the situation.

  “But I couldn’t tell you what he’d need from me. He has everything. Well, there is one thing I’m giving him, but I suppose he could get that a lot of different places.”

  “I’m sure it’s more than that for him. I think the womanizing thing is just an act.” Piper had spent enough time watching Michael and Jules together to see that he felt something, even if he wasn’t shouting it from the mountaintops.
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br />   Jules blew out a loud sigh and dropped her head back. “There never seems like a good time to bring it up. What if he doesn’t want the same thing as me? Then what? It’s not like we can just not see each other. Things are so complicated right now, maybe I should keep my mouth shut until all this blows over, and then we can talk about it when he doesn’t feel obligated to be with me.”

  Piper looked down at her nails and realized she had done a terrible job. She had hoped painting them would be some kind of innate girl skill that would just exist within her. This was not the case. She reached for the cotton balls and polish remover and started to wipe it away. “I wouldn’t wait.” Piper shrugged. Maybe she was still on some kind of enthusiastic high caused by the long awaited night she spent with Bobby yesterday.

  Everything seemed like it had a simple answer when you’d spent hours clawing at the sheets and shuddering with pleasure. Yes, confront that complicated issue. Of course you should ask for a raise. Confess your love? Absolutely. No one should be able to give advice after a night like that. Apparently for a pessimist like Piper, orgasms equated to rose-colored glasses.

  “Life is short, Jules. If Michael makes you feel something special, then tell him. Just be honest. I think the sooner the better. He’s a very even-keeled guy, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your leveling with him.”

  Jules, contemplating Piper’s advice, looked down and caught a glimpse of her hands. “What did you do to yourself?” Jules hollered, referring to the red smears running down Piper’s fingers. “That’s not how you put nail polish on, and it’s not how you take it off, either. Didn’t your mom ever show you how to do this?” The moment the words passed her lips Jules knew she had screwed up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered sheepishly.

  “Don’t be sorry,” Piper replied. “Just get over here and take this junk off me. It’s burning like hell, and I’m pretty sure I’m flammable at this point.”

  Jules hopped off her bed and walked on her heels to keep her freshly polished toes from touching the carpet. She wasn’t sure if Piper had meant it to be, but Jules took the quick forgiveness of her stupidity as a sign that Piper didn’t mind talking about her past. Jules was curious. She wanted to know what Piper had lived through, what brought her to this point in her life.

  “What was it like?” Jules asked, as she took the cotton and nail polish remover from Piper and began fixing the damage on her hands. “Growing up, what was it like for you?”

  Piper looked at her messy hands and then slowly back at Jules. She had never had anyone to talk to about her past before she came to Edenville. Then when she’d found people interested, she hadn’t been allowed to. Now there was nothing stopping her except her own self-consciousness of how the truth might change the way someone looked at her. But she needed to trust, and Jules had never given her reason not to.

  “It was bad.” A simple statement, but it was the truth. “I guess I didn’t know how bad it was until I was older and I realized other people didn’t live the way we did. My parents were both drug addicts. They were very violent, though in different ways. They were neglectful to the point that there were times I’m amazed I didn’t die of malnutrition or an untreated illness. I’ve tried to convince myself a few times that my mom did the best she could, but then I look at your mom and I realize she had a long way to go. I didn’t learn anything that’s of any use in the real world. I can ration food, I can hide in small spaces for long periods of time, and I can take a hell of a punch. But I can’t paint my nails. I can’t cook a meal. I can’t for the life of me figure out how to fold a fitted sheet.”

  Jules smirked. “No one knows how to do that. My mother even rolls them up into a ball and crams them in the linen closet, so don’t feel too bad about that one.” Jules focused only on Piper’s disastrous fingernails, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by showing sadness for her. “Did you love your parents?”

  That was a question Piper had never been asked before. It wasn’t even something she’d asked herself. There were so many layers to it, so much scar tissue built on that query. She was glad Jules had asked, because now she was curious about the answer, too.

  “Did I ever love my parents? I’m not sure. I think when you’re beaten down and then given small pieces of hope, even in the form of a fast food cheeseburger, you tend to blur the line of dependence and love. I don’t have a specific memory of loving either of my parents, but there were days I didn’t hate them. There were days they provided something I was so desperate for, like food or even peace and quiet, that I was grateful to them. My father had moments of kindness, and times when it felt like he might have loved me, but once I found out about his crimes that all became very tainted. I was given a file of all the murders he had been accused of committing, and the dates often lined up with moments of calm in our lives.

  “Apparently whatever had built up in him would spill over in the form of murder. Then it would release the pressure, and he’d be normal for a little while. But, inevitably, he’d lose control again. It makes me sick now to think how happy I would be for those short periods of time, when in reality someone had just violently lost a daughter, a sister, a friend. Did I love my parents? No,” Piper concluded, “not even in that obedient way that tells you that you’re supposed to. It makes me sad to admit it, but it isn’t worth lying about. I can’t change it now. What was more frightening to me was the thought of never loving anyone, or no one ever loving me. Now that I don’t have to worry about that any more, it’s a little easier to cope with the rest of it.” Piper looked down at her hands, amazed that Jules was able to get every last hint of the red polish off her.

  “Do you think it was your father who attacked that girl on campus? In your heart, do you feel like he’s here?” Jules imagined that kind of evil would carry with it a force that could be felt by anyone who had experienced it. Piper knew it was a perk found only in the movies. There was no homing device to let her know when danger was near. She had no spidey-sense.

  “I really can’t say. My gut tells me, no, he isn’t here in Edenville. Nothing about that crime felt like my father had committed it. Maybe I’m just trying to be optimistic, but I don’t think it’s him.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like, and I’m really in awe of how you came through it. Thanks for listening to my boring, pedestrian relationship worries and not looking at me like I’m some self-absorbed brat. I know this stuff with Michael and me isn’t important compared to what you’re dealing with.” Jules was embarrassed now for even bringing up her silly issues.

  “Jules, my problems have become all our problems. We’re in this together. I’m glad you talked to me about what’s going on with you and Michael. I care so much about you both, and, no matter what, I want to see you happy. I think you should talk to him.” Jules threw her arms around Piper and pulled her in for a hug. None of this was easy, but it felt a little less hopeless when she had someone to talk to.

  “Thank you so much.” Jules released her from the tight bear hug and ran her fingers through Piper’s thick hair. “Do you know how to put rollers in?” she asked with an excited grin. “I could teach you.” Jules had found the perfect student for her fashion and beauty techniques.

  “Aren’t those for, like, a perm?” Piper asked, not able to keep the endless line of styling products straight. Jules shook her head and furrowed her brows looking at Piper’s nails again.

  “Maybe we should start small, I’ll get the curling iron and the hairspray.” She scurried to the bathroom, but turned back toward Piper with a laugh. “Maybe I should bring the aloe and Band-Aids, too.”

  Chapter Five

  There were a few things Piper could always count on. If she were at Betty’s house she’d be fed. If she were with Michael she’d be teased. If she spent the day with Jules there would be some kind of makeover. And Bobby, he was just unwaveringly available and reliable. He always answered his phone, even if it was just to say he was busy and would cal
l back. But for the last five hours Piper had been getting his voicemail. They had spent another amazing night at his place—take-out, wine, and hours of passion that had her legs buckling from exhaustion this morning. He’d brought her to levels of ecstasy she’d never imagined possible. When she was convinced her body could take no more, he’d found a way to show her it could. Now her mind, in between moments of worry, flashed the scenes of their night together. She’d opened her heart and given her body over to him with a trust she’d never dabbled in before. It was as terrifying as it was satisfying.

  Bobby had left for duty that morning and kissed her lips softly before dropping her at Michael’s office. She was now driving Michael crazy with her nervous fidgeting.

  “Do you think I should call the precinct?” Piper asked for the third time.

  “I’m not going to change my answer no matter how many times you ask. No, you shouldn’t call the precinct. Bobby’s working, he’s probably tied up with something, and he’ll call you when he can. Or maybe he dropped his phone in the toilet. I did that two months ago, I missed plenty of calls. Just relax.” Piper thought if she were ever in charge of the world she’d make it against the law to direct those two words at a woman. Saying, “just relax” would warrant a bloody beating for any man dumb enough to utter the phrase.

  Michael smiled as he handed Piper a blank notebook and pen. “When clients come in with their kids who can’t sit still I always give them these. Why don’t you draw me something nice?”

  “I can write up your will for you, you’re about to need one,” Piper grumbled back at him. Suddenly, Michael’s receptionist, Irene, a small masculine looking woman with an outdated hairstyle, knocked lightly on the door and stepped in. Piper always laughed a little inside when she saw her. She recalled how Michael had bragged to her early on in their friendship how he had slept his way through many receptionists who promptly quit upon their break-ups. He’d boasted that women had a difficult time working for him and not wanting more. Through some friendly conversations with Irene, Piper found out that there had been no other receptionists. Irene had worked at the firm for nearly five years before Michael had started there, and she’d been the only one he’d ever worked with. There was nothing like a man and his ego, using fake conquests to trump up his status. It was laughable, especially when Irene would come by, because she clearly had no problem keeping her hands off Michael.