I'm about to grab Dax when my axis shifts yet again. Drawn to the entrance by some unfathomable energy, my mouth falls open. Piper. I blink her into focus. It's her. She's changed, yet she's still the same. Eyes as dark as night are lined and wide; hair cut to brush the top of her shoulders remains bent into perfect waves, but the tips aren't confused by multi-colors. They're pink. And her legs, dear God, whatever kind of short jumper concoction that is with its deep V plunging to her naval and the hem dusting the tops of her thighs is sexy as fuck. Her hip cocks to the side, her hands holding a clutch at the juncture of her legs.
Cara bursts through the door, then Spencer and Charlotte, followed by Erin and Danny, and a third of our graduating class of '82 file in behind them. But my eyes latch on to Piper's and then she smiles. She smiles the damn smile that tightens my chest, and I can't breathe. All of it is too much. Then I fall. Free falling like the floor was pulled out from under me. I have nowhere to go but dive into my head.
Gavin Lawless. Traitor. Asil Marik. Justin. Piper. My thoughts swirl. Her grin falters. The world intrudes again, and my fucking pulse takes off when the past steps next to my future.
Leah.
Of course she'd be here. I swallow past a rush of memories. It's been years since I've seen her, and although everything's changed, when faced with a person who helped shape the man I am today, nothing has. Seconds tick by and I'm struck by light and dark. Leah reaches and brings her long hair over one shoulder revealing a sleeve of colorful tats, starting at her collarbone with her birthday woven through a map like coordinates. The rest of the images blur into a montage of what I assume are lifetime moments.
The room turns black. All of my yesterdays roll in like a dark cloud, smothering the light. History plays out like an old film in my mind-summers on the beach, campfires and road trips, football games and friends. Twelve years disappear, and Justin is alive. But now he is dead and I am not.
Leah's eyes sear a hole through me and in a second they soften, as if she found all my wounds with one look. She had a way of understanding me without words back then and it seems nothing much has changed.
Except Piper.
And JT.
Two of the most important people in the world who can never belong to me because I'm a dead man walking. I have to finish what I started, for Dad, for Mom and Cara, for me and my sanity. My stomach tightens around the truth and for one agonizing moment I stare into black magic, into eyes that force me to face the truth. How can I bind her to me when I'm already halfway overseas?
Traitor. I choke on the word whispered in Justin's voice.
On that thought, I turn to the bar. Waving Stan over, I find my drink of choice. Beer won't cut this need.
"Give me the bottle of Jameson. The whole fucking thing."
Dear Justin.
I'd describe myself as an ugly duckling. As a child I was never pretty-dark eyes, much too big for a tiny face. Everything else about me was little, and I faded into insignificance. It felt as if no one saw me. I was invisible.
Being different in a family that expects conformity is lonely. I was lonely a lot. But then my hair turned the color of ice, and my heart became as brittle. I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone.
Then I met you. I remember how you looked at me, how you saw me for me, liked me for me, and found me beautiful because I am-inside and out.
Now, even when life is hard I feel like I can fly.
x Piper
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Past V Present
Piper
LEAH FIGHTS DIRTY. Where I went with a subtle blush jumper, she chose bold, skin-tight jeggings and a strappy tank that crisscrosses her breasts. And Caden noticed. He's noticing now.
While his eyes are glued to his past, I stand on the outside looking in. On the outside of this party with friends that have history when I only have moments. But it only took a moment to foster and grow an unbearable ache in my chest that swells every second Caden speaks not to me, but to her, to anyone but me, leaving me to the silent thoughts swirling in my mind. A discordant vortex which draws me back to mindless gatherings in San Francisco where I was merely a pawn to my parents, sent to listen to guests, catch on to any rumblings that would affect their multi-billion-dollar government contract. I was invisible-the perfect spy, the perfect player. They had finally found a use for me.
When I left, Sylas Stevens, my father, the founder of a worldwide defense and security corporation, was on the cusp of becoming the most powerful partner the U.S. military had seen since its inception. The tenuous contract depended on Father's purchase of Lockman Schultz, a smaller but well run global aerospace firm. A takeover he wanted me to ensure took place by marrying me off to Morgan Lockman, III, grandson and successor to the technology conglomerate. Our union was an assurance that Lockman would remain a key stakeholder in the new mega firm when his grandfather retired, but it became my final straw, the confirmation that I would never be anything but a chess piece. Their demand sent me far from a family intent on forcing me into a marriage of their convenience for the sake of big business.