by Skye Jordan
I recognize the voice as Peter Belau’s, deep and demanding. I put myself between Piper and the door and shove her into the safety of the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Piper asks, her voice rising to that pitch just before she starts crying.
The glass door slides open, and Peter says, “The brilliant Mr. Hawthorne is paying a visit.”
We emerge from the hallway in time to see Belau lead Dale into the house by the arm. Belau and I greet each other with a chin lift.
Willow laughs at Dale. “You’re such a dumb shit. You always get caught.”
True. Dale Hawthorne is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Who wants to tell me why he’s here?” I ask, looking directly at Piper.
She’s got her arms crossed, her shoulders up around her ears, and an expression that’s half angry, half guilty. “He was just going to hang with us.”
Anger spikes. I swing toward Dale and get in his face. “You touch anyone under eighteen and you’re looking at statutory rape. Do you understand that, Mr. Hawthorne? We’re in California, which means there are no age exceptions. It’s a solid eighteen years old. These two are sixteen and fifteen, so you’d better go find someone else to play with for the next few years if you don’t want to end up in jail.”
“Dude,” Hawthorne says. “I’m not doin’ Piper.”
“Uncle Z,” Piper says. “Stop.”
She spins, stalks to her room, and slams the door. Belau shoots me a commiserating smirk. He’s also got teenage girls.
“You two either head home with Officer Belau,” I tell them, “or start walking.”
They choose to walk. Big surprise.
Once they’re gone, I look at Piper’s closed door, then at Belau. “She’s not even mine, and I swear she’s going to be the death of me.”
“I hear you.” He heads back outside. “Good luck.”
“Later.”
I close the doors to the house and pace the living room to get my temper under control. To get my thoughts right. I drop to a seat on the edge of the sectional sofa and rub my face with both hands. “Fuck.”
I didn’t handle that right, but for the life of me, I don’t know how else to respond. I feel Piper slipping away from me, putting up walls, and this situation certainly didn’t help.
I’m not surprised to find her home alone. Karen works as a mortgage broker in Santa Barbara, and between her commute, her long days, and her frequent dates, this is a constant problem.
I’m in an impossible position here. I have no legal right to tell Piper or Karen what to do. Piper’s at an age where it wouldn’t be considered child endangerment for Karen to leave her alone. But without adult supervision, Piper’s on a direct path to juvie, teenage motherhood, or Planned Parenthood.
I feel the weight of failure on my shoulders, and I have the nearly irresistible urge to call Chloe and ask her what to do. In the end, I might, but I want to at least try to fix it myself first.
I drag myself down the hallway and knock on her door. “Piper, let’s talk.”
“No. Go away.” Her voice is clogged with tears. “Just leave me alone.”
The defeat is so heavy, I rest my back against the wall, slide to my ass, and rest my arms on my bent knees. With my head back, I close my eyes and, for some inexplicable reason, the sight of Chloe standing up on stage tonight fills my mind.
How did she touch those women so easily? How did she get them to listen and follow? Granted, they weren’t teenagers, but there had to be some similarity—they’re all women. Yet despite how many I know, they still confuse the hell out of me.
Chloe, KT, and Laiyla have a running almost joke about angels. Even though they laugh about it, there’s definitely a reverence to the topic. I’ve never given it much thought, but I’m definitely looking under every rock for something to help me out here, so I try adapting the prayer Chloe used earlier tonight in hopes it might fit this situation.
Archangel Michael—
No. This already feels totally idiotic. I’ve just got to do it my way.
Dude, help a brother out. I’ve got no freaking idea how to fix this, and she’s so damned important to me.
My mind drifts back to Chloe talking to herself as I came to her boat yesterday evening. She does that a lot—talks to herself, prays out loud—so I didn’t think anything of it, but now her words whisper in my head.
“Healing is brought about through love and vulnerability.”
I love Piper enough to do anything for her, but…vulnerability? I’m a guy. Hell, I’m a cop. I’m not even sure what vulnerability would look like. But nothing else has worked with this kid. I think about things from Piper’s perspective, and I wonder why it took me so damn long to do this.
“Piper,” I say, my voice surprisingly level and compassionate.
I take a deep breath and feel some walls slide down. I didn’t even know I had them up. It’s just how I’ve always been. Am I going soft as I get older? Or is there more to Chloe’s work than meets the eye?
“I know how hard this move has been on you. And I know you miss your dad. I miss him too. Every day.” I pause and lean my head back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. “I know I sometimes come down on you pretty hard, but honey, when you get that close to real danger, it scares the shit out of me.”
I exhale and settle in for a long wait. I’m not leaving until Karen comes home or I take Piper to school tomorrow.
“I never knew how hard it would be to keep that promise I made your dad.”
The door opens, and Piper’s standing there, face red and wet, making her look ten instead of fifteen.
“Great,” she says with a dash of attitude but no anger. “Now you’re calling me high maintenance?” She leans her shoulder against the door. “You’re the one who acts like a girl.” She imitates a high-pitched whiny voice. “Piper, talk to me. Piper, why aren’t you texting me back? Piper, what are you doing this weekend, want to hang out?”
My laughter comes out of nowhere, a short burst of relief and humor. A tired smile lifts her mouth, allowing the rest of my tension to fade and happiness to push in.
Piper mirrors my position on the other side of the hall and wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. We remain silent for a few long, relaxing minutes.
“I really do love you, you know?” The declaration comes more easily than it ever has in the past. “You’re special. You’ve always been special. You’re sweet and feisty and smart. You have so much going for you, it kills me to see you risk throwing away all you could do and be just to hang out with shitty friends.”
“Shitty friends are better than no friends.”
The loneliness I know she’s been suffering permeates the sentiment. “There’s got to be other people at school you could hang out with.”
“You so don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me. I want to understand.”
“Everyone already has someone. The rich and beautiful kids have a popular clique. The smart kids have an AP clique. The sports kids have a jock clique. The nice kids have an impenetrable besties clique going back to fucking kindergarten.”
I let the curse pass.
“I have no one. And I don’t even have Mom.” She gestures to the empty house. “No one gives a shit about me.”
“Hello,” I say, holding my arms out.
“You’re only here because you made Dad a promise.”
“Yeah, I made your dad a promise, but even if I hadn’t, I would be here. I’ve loved you since the first time you beat me at Candyland.”
“You really sucked at that game.”
“It was all those slides and ladders. They let you take short cuts. That’s bullshit.”
She laughs. Real laughter that pushes away some of the darkness hovering between us. “That’s Chutes and Ladders. You sucked at that game too.”
I sigh. “Have you eaten? Because I haven’t, and I don’t suck at grilled cheese.”
“
Good luck finding anything in the fridge.”
A thread of anger weaves through my chest, but I tamp it down. I need to stay focused and positive for Piper. Karen is another matter. “The store’s just down the road, and it’s a nice night for a walk.”
Piper sighs. “If you make me walk all the way to the market and back, you’d better buy me ice cream.”
I smile, reach across the distance separating us, grab her arm, and pull her into a hug. I hold her tight, even as she pretends to choke. “I love you, kid.”
9
Chloe
In the warm, dark space, I tiptoe on bare feet between my students, where they lie in savasana after their relaxation yoga experience, one designed to stretch their muscles and bring them into a peaceful state to facilitate sleep. The night air blows gently through the open doors and windows, helping bring down the temperature on what turned out to be an unseasonably hot day.
I pause beside each person to place a drop of lavender oil on their inner wrist while offering my last thought for the night in a voice that floats softly in the full but silent room.
“I’d like you to consider that there are two distinct parts of yourselves—ego and spirit. Lately, I’ve been struggling to quiet my ego so I can better hear the spirit of my heart.”
I pause, dab two more wrists, and move on. “Wherever you crave recognition in life—as a valuable employee, for example, or a successful entrepreneur or a talented artist or a perfect mom—that is your ego talking. The ego is a powerful force that tempts you to ignore the spiritual nature of your heart. The ego wants you to do whatever it takes to bring about status or prestige. The heart wants you to be happy.”
I pause for more dabs, allowing my words to sink in and stick. There is no better way for that to happen than in silence.
“Where the ego bellows, the spirit whispers, and in those whispers, you will find the inspiration for true happiness, authentic success, and meaningful prosperity.”
I finish tapping the wrist of every student with lavender oil, return to the front of the room, and take the lotus position on my mat, letting several more silent moments pass.
“Slowly make your way into lotus,” I direct, feeling the calmest and most grounded I’ve felt in weeks.
When everyone joins me, sitting upright, legs crossed, hands at their chest in prayer, I say, “Ego drives; spirit guides. Over the next few days, notice what feelings you act on—the demands of ego or the suggestions of spirit—and try to make the inner shift necessary to choose spirit over ego. Spirit holds your heart’s deepest desires, and you have to listen intently to hear them.”
I allow an extended moment of silence, wishing I could float here for hours.
“Deep breath in,” I say, drawing air deep into my lungs, then exhale. “And release.”
I wait until everyone has exhaled and settled again. Then bend at the waist, hands in prayer at my heart. “Namaste.”
“Namaste,” the room echoes.
I wait while the women collect their mats, their shoes and bags, then I stand by the door as they exit, accepting their appreciation for the class and wishing them a beautiful night.
I don’t notice Bodhi until all the women are on their way back to the marina to grab their pleasure boats and head to their houseboats anchored in various locations on the lake. He’s wearing a dark shirt over cargo shorts, looking cool and handsome. His smile is warm and authentic, his gaze searching mine.
“Hi.” His simple greeting in that sweet tone, tumbles me backward a year and a half, to the way he’d always greet me before kissing me breathless.
“Hi.” A pang pinches my heart—for all we once were, for all we once could have been. “I’m going to lock up. Did you need something?”
“Just to talk. Go ahead.”
I move to the front of the room where I store my chimes and essential oils in a locked cabinet, then start closing the windows. Bodhi moves to the other side of the room and does the same.
If this isn’t a blatant sign from the universe, I don’t know what would be. Only minutes ago, I was suggesting that my students try to live by their heart, not their ego, and here I am facing my ego’s biggest wart. “What do you want to talk about?”
He closes the last window and turns to face me, sliding his hands into his front pockets. “A lot. Everything. But mostly, I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I broke us and hurt you.”
My ego surges forward with hurtful retorts, and I clench my teeth around them. Sometimes calming the ego is the hardest thing in the world to do. Like when the man who you thought was the love of your life fucks up everything then says, “Oh, by the way, I didn’t mean it.”
“It was never about you,” he says, his expression contrite and open and clearly vulnerable. A glimpse of the man I once loved.
“It was about my anxiety and sense of inadequacy,” he says. “I knew I had a tendency to gain validation through sex, and I never should have promised to be with only you when I still had unsettled feelings about myself. When I committed to you, I hadn’t addressed the underlying problems that ultimately caused us to break. I loved you so much, I wanted so badly to be the man you wanted and needed, that I shoved my issues into a corner and ignored them.”
I’m still trying to tamp down the strength of my ego when he asks, “Is this thing with Xavier serious?”
Perfect. A reminder of yet another relationship based on a lie. “I don’t want to talk about Xavier with you.”
“I understand. I just wish you’d give me another chance to prove I’ve overcome the issues that caused me to cheat. We were so good together. Our relationship was so special.”
“You’ve always had a way with words,” I say, letting the fiery anger cool into embers. It takes a lot of energy to stay mad, and I’d really rather spend my energy on positive things like happiness and love. “But those pretty words don’t do anything for the suffering you caused. I’ve learned that suffering kills emotions. In this case, your cheating killed my love for you. It’s that simple.”
He exhales long and slow with a nod. “I regret what I did every day I’m without you.”
“I regret it too.”
A shadow on the road catches my eye. Someone dressed in dark clothes with dark hair. Only the glint of gold tells me it’s Xavier approaching in his uniform, measuring whether to come in and support me or fall back and let me fight it out. And in that moment, the stark differences between these two men have never been clearer.
Bodhi notices Xavier too. “I only want the best for you. I hope you find the love you’re looking for, and know that if things don’t work out with Xavier, you’ll always have a place in my heart.”
I’m never going back to Bodhi. I know that with a certainty that rings in my bones, but I let it go and wish him a good night before I start down the road.
Xavier meets me with open arms and concern etching his face. He hugs me tight, and I rest my cheek against his still-armored chest, only to find the interaction with Bodhi has hurt my heart, which keeps me, yet again, from opening up to Xavier. In moments like these, I’m unquestioningly certain I’ll never be whole again.
“You okay?” he whispers at my ear.
Warmth and softness fill my sore heart. “I am now.”
“Can I arrest him now?”
I laugh. I love the way he can make me laugh, but I sober quickly. “He’s in his own jail.”
“Sometimes that’s the worst kind.”
With his arm around my shoulders, we head toward the marina, but I’ve still got a rock in my chest. “Have you eaten? Want to get dinner?”
“Dinner? Out alone, you and me?” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Girl, you’re breaking rules all over the damn place. Since I brought dinner to you, maybe we can break one of the other rules tonight.”
I smile, knowing the only two rules left are related to having sex and falling in love, and I know his mind is on the first. I’m also well aware that the latter would be difficult fo
r even one of us to attain, let alone both of us. “How’d you know I’d be hungry?”
“Because you’re always hungry. I’ve never met anyone who grazes like you do.”
I elbow him.
“And I saw the crew in town. They said you couldn’t go to dinner because you had a class.”
The crew encompasses Laiyla, Levi, Kat, Ben, and Ben’s daughters.
We turn onto my dock, and the spicy scent makes my mouth water. “Oh my God, that smells so good. What is it?”
“Thai.”
I gasp in pleasure and open the brown bag that rests on the patio table. “Mango sticky rice?”
“And that green thing you like.”
I look up and do a little prissy clap. “Green curry?”
He nods.
I playfully melt against him. “You certainly know the way to a woman’s heart.”
He sighs, his hand sliding over my hair. “If only.”
My mind fills with the memory of last night’s kiss. I spent half the night wondering if that kiss was a preview to how good he’d be in bed. Rumor has it, he’s unforgettable. And right now, still hurting over the failure of my last relationship because that man slept around, I remind myself that I don’t want to go down that road again. Especially not with one of my very best friends. Sex is a lot easier to find than friends like Xavier.
I pull away and pick up the bag while he takes my keys and opens the door.
“I was going to put the food inside, but I was pleased to find your door locked.” He holds the screen door open as I pass through and sets the food on the counter. “Want to talk about what happened back there?”
I sigh and give a one-shouldered shrug as I take the food containers from the bag and set them on the counter. “He’s seen the error of his ways. Or so he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“It’s irrelevant. I don’t love him anymore. Pain tends to taint even the most precious things in life.”
Xavier strips out of his uniform shirt, his body armor, and his duty belt, tossing them all on the futon while I pull out plates and utensils and dish up food.