by Jill Shalvis
“Don’t tease me,” Emmitt said seriously. “You know breakfast for dinner is my favorite thing on the planet. But you forbid me from having it.”
“I didn’t forbid you.” She began whipping up the ingredients and heating up pans. “I said you were doing it wrong. Too much fat, too much sugar.”
Cam pulled out some chocolate milk and poured a glass for everyone before setting the table.
Emmitt sniffed suspiciously at the turkey bacon and gluten-free, sugar-free pancakes now cooking. “It looks good.”
There was a knock at the back door, and Gavin walked in. “I smelled bacon.”
“I tried to reach you,” Piper said. “Go away. People who don’t respond to texts don’t get free food.”
“Come in,” Emmitt said, overruling her.
Cam set another place.
Two minutes later, Winnie showed up too. “Oh my God, I knew it. You’re all eating without me? You suck.” She sat at the table.
“Seriously?” Piper asked her.
Without missing a beat, Cam set another place.
“Sorry for the Manning family invasion,” Piper said to the room.
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “As a whole, we have boundary issues. I read that in one of Piper’s journals once.”
Everyone laughed except Piper, who pointed her fork at him.
“I like this,” Cam said. “A big family dinner. Rowan was always two thousand plus miles away. I felt like an only child.”
“My fault,” Emmitt said. “Your mom and I really thought it was best to each go our own way, and she couldn’t have handled a baby, and you were already almost grown, so . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know what we were thinking. Honestly, we were only thinking about ourselves. It’s not right how we bungled things. I’ll never quite forgive myself, Cam, but I promise I’m working on being better.”
Cam eyed him for a long beat and then nodded. Easy acceptance, easy forgiveness.
Piper wasn’t at all sure she could have done either of those things.
They all served themselves and then sat as a group to dive in. It took Piper a minute to realize all chatter had died, replaced by silence. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” everyone said in unison, with no eye contact. Gee, not suspicious at all. She took a bite of her gluten-free, sugar-free pancakes and . . . choked.
“Oh my God. That’s”—she fought against wanting to spit it out—“disgusting.”
“Thank God,” Emmitt muttered.
“It’s gross,” Winnie whispered.
“What’s in the pancakes, sand?” Gavin asked.
Mortified, Piper started to gather the plates. “Maybe if I tried coconut sugar—”
“Sis, nothing could’ve saved that breakfast.” Gavin rose. “My turn.” And he headed to the kitchen. “Holy shit,” they heard him say, and he popped his head back out. “You left me a disaster in here.”
Piper shrugged. “I clean up afterward.”
“As you go,” Gavin said. “Always as you go.” He vanished again.
Winnie looked at Cam. “When do you leave?”
“I’ve still got several weeks off.”
“I meant the Coast Guard thing. You could get deployed at any time, right?”
“More likely to get activated. Deployment happens less often.”
Piper set down her glass. She knew he’d been activated probably more times than it was worth counting, but it was one thing to think it, another to live it. “Where would you have to go?”
“Could be anywhere.”
“Where’ve you been?” Winnie asked.
“Lots of places. Puerto Rico, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Cuba . . . Sometimes we don’t do land at all.”
“You stay on the water,” Winnie said. “Right? Like when you’re fighting pirates?”
His brows went up.
“Come on, I know you fight pirates.”
He just gave a small smile. “Okay, maybe I’ve had some missions where we boarded and took down foreign freighters for possessing drugs and weapons.”
“Pirates,” Winnie repeated, looking pleased.
Piper and her siblings had been to a whole bunch of places too. For Winnie, that had happened from birth until the age of three. That meant she didn’t have real memories of any of that time, just stories she’d been told. Practically fairy tales.
Not to Piper. Those times were all too real in her mind, which meant the danger of what Cam did out there was not lost on her.
“It’s not always like that,” he said, speaking to Winnie but looking at Piper, as if he knew where her thoughts had gone. “Sometimes we’re simply the humanitarian aid or law enforcement, and sometimes we’re guarding oil fields and setting up ECPs—entry control points.”
“I read that the Coast Guard is the only military branch that can carry guns on American soil without martial law being in effect,” Winnie said.
“Because we’re part of the Department of Homeland Security, not the DOD.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“I’m an ME1,” he said. “Maritime Law Enforcement Specialist, First Class.”
“Is that like the Big Cheese?” Winnie asked.
“My rank’s E-6. If I went up one more to E-7, I’d be a chief. A chief runs the field, but usually from an office.”
“Not as exciting,” Winnie said.
“I’m not an office kind of guy,” he said on an easy shrug.
Gavin came to the table with egg-and-sausage burritos. He squeezed Piper’s shoulder. “Not trying to steal your thunder, just want to take care of you once in a while.”
Touched, she smiled at him, and the rest of them stopped talking to eat and give the occasional moan of pleasure.
The burritos were amazing. Restaurant quality. “Okay,” Piper said. “You win.”
“It wasn’t a contest,” Gavin said modestly, and paused. “But do make sure to note this down in your journal. I want it on record to offset the next time I screw something up.”
“Hey, we’re all adults now,” Piper said. “So there’s no screwing anything up. We’re all on the same page. No secrets equals no fights.”
No one made eye contact.
“What?” she asked.
Emmitt lifted his glass of chocolate milk. “To family.”
Winnie and Gavin quickly grabbed their glasses and lifted them too. “To family.”
And even though Piper knew she’d once again missed something, the moment was gone.
Chapter 8
“If you feed me now, no one dies.”
A few mornings later, Piper staggered downstairs in search of caffeine, pausing just outside the kitchen at the sound of voices.
“How did we all get so ridiculously broken?” Winnie asked.
Gavin laughed roughly. “You really need me to answer that? At least we’re home with our glue stick, Piper.”
Winnie was quiet at that, her silence seeming to suggest that while Piper might be the glue, she was also a little unglued . . .
Fair. Piper felt distinctly unglued lately. She’d just started to enter when Gavin spoke again. “When are you going to tell her, Win?”
“Never.”
Gavin made a sound of disappointment.
“Whatever, Gav. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Piper would’ve liked to hear more, but Sweet Cheeks chose that very moment to wind around her legs, letting out a very loud series of chirps that said, “If you feed me now, no one dies.”
Piper winced as both siblings turned toward her, startled. “Hey,” she said casually. “What’s going on?”
Gavin and Winnie looked at each other. Then Gavin shrugged. “Might as well admit it, since she’s about to find out.”
Winnie shifted her weight. “Gav—”
“Winnie burned breakfast.”
Piper could have called that out for the lie it clearly was, but . . . she could smell it. She eyed the kitchen, stopping short at the
realization that the place looked like a cyclone had hit it.
“I tried Rowan’s banana muffin recipe and nearly blew us all up,” Winnie said. “He was so great in the kitchen.” She bit her lower lip. “Sometimes I forget he’s gone.”
Piper felt her heart squeeze. “I’m sorry, Win.”
“I know you didn’t like him. You thought he was a bad influence on me.”
He’d been a terrible influence, introducing Winnie to a partying lifestyle that Piper hadn’t approved of, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like him. She had. He’d been fun-loving, charismatic, and sweet. “He was a good kid. I know you miss him.”
Winnie nodded. “I do. And since baking no longer holds any appeal, and I suck at cooking in general, I’m going to stick to what I’m good at—fixing things.”
“You’re good at fixing things?”
“I’m learning. And Emmitt taught me a little bit about gardening. I thought I’d help with the vegetable patch.”
“Grandma’s vegetable patch?” Piper asked. “The one no one’s maintained for years?”
Winnie shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice.”
“But we don’t know the first thing about gardening.”
“Duh. That’s what YouTube’s for.” Hopping up to sit on the counter, Winnie began flipping through a stack of bills. “And yikes, we’re poor.”
“Like that’s anything new,” Piper said, still taking in the devastation zone.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Winnie said. “The oven’s messed up.”
“I’ll put a new oven on my list for Santa.”
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.” Gavin shook his head. “She got that from you.”
“Well, excuse me,” Winnie said. “We can’t all be neat freaks.”
“How about just neat? Can you all be just neat?”
This was an age-old argument between the three of them. Gavin hated a messy house, but especially a messy kitchen. Funny, because he didn’t object to having a messy life.
“Why are you guys up so early?” Piper asked.
“Cam finished fixing Emmitt’s boat yesterday. So Emmitt took us fishing,” Winnie said.
Piper laughed at the idea of her siblings getting up early on purpose. “Come on.”
“It’s true,” Winnie said. “The sunrise was gorg.”
“Yeah. Probably because it was the first time you’ve ever seen one.”
Gavin laughed and bumped fists with Piper.
“Hey,” Winnie said, pouting. “I’ve seen a sunrise. Once. When I got the stomach flu and was up all night puking . . .”
“That was a hangover,” Piper said.
“Oh. Right.”
Piper looked at Gavin. He was still smiling, looking young and carefree, and it pinched her heart. “And you. You used to hate mornings.”
He shrugged. “I caught us dinner. You’ll love it.”
“Emmitt’s been wanting to get out on the water,” Winnie said. “You gotta remember, he’s only owned the marina for five years. Rowan handled most of the boat maintenance, but he got behind. I had no idea, but it turns out Cam’s the one who taught Rowan everything he knew.” Winnie’s eyes went a little shiny. “He’s a really good guy too.”
Piper suspected that was very true. Which wasn’t the comfort it should’ve been because she didn’t want to fall for him. She just wanted to get naked with him.
Quite badly.
“You guys don’t even live here anymore,” she said. “How do you know more about my neighbors than I do?”
Winnie shrugged. “Because we don’t break out into hives when we have to be social?”
Gavin winced and gave her a small head shake. “Harsh.”
Winnie sighed. “I’m sorry. Piper knows what I mean.” She hopped off the counter. “I’m going to shower. Don’t anyone use hot water. For a few.”
“You mean an hour?” Gavin asked her back. “Cuz that’s how long your showers last.”
“Shut it!” came down the stairs.
Piper looked at her brother, who was now on his laptop, fingers racing across the keyboard. “Weren’t you going to look into the hot-water tank situation for me?”
“Actually, Winnie’s on it. She’s really becoming quite the handyman. Er—handywoman.”
“Okay.” Piper didn’t actually believe this, mostly because Winnie wasn’t big on manual labor. Or any kind of labor. But whatever. “How about the toaster? You get a chance to fix that?”
“No. But later, I promise.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. Or even look up at her. “Gavin, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Something,” she insisted.
He shrugged. “I’m just tired.”
She got that, but this was more. “It’s unlike you to be so . . .”
He looked up. “So what? Useless?”
“Not the word I was going to use.”
“Good, because I’m not useless, at least not completely. For instance, I can be used as a really bad example.” He was trying to lighten the mood. He’d been doing that all his life.
“What I’m trying to say is that you’re not acting like yourself.” Yes, he was still the same laid-back and easygoing “no worries” kid he’d always been, and sharp and funny as usual, but there were haunted shadows in his eyes, and that worried her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She perched a hip on the kitchen table. “Try again.”
He sat up, shoved his hands through his hair, and then rose to his feet. He looked her right in the eyes and said, “Listen, I get that you mean well, but it’s okay. You did it, you got me to adulthood. I’m now tired by eight P.M., mostly pay bills on time, and love ibuprofen. Happy? I can make you a certificate of acknowledgment if you like, noting that your mothering duties are hugely appreciated and have been credentialed, signaling the end of your obligation.”
This cut her to the very core, but she pulled a page from Cam’s book and remained calm, holding eye contact. “I’m well aware. Just as I’m also aware you’re acting weirdly defensive. Did you get another DUI?”
“No. Christ.” He started to stalk off, but stopped to look at her, into her, and she felt anxiety crawl up her throat and block her air passageway.
“What do you remember of Mom and Dad?” he asked.
This completely threw her. “What? We just talked about this.”
“No, I talked, you evaded. Because in fact, we never talk about them.”
“Gavin, where is this coming from?”
He sat back down, heavily, like his legs were lead. “I’m losing my memories of them and don’t want to.”
The air in her lungs escaped in one whoosh, and she sat down too. “Oh, Gavin.” She drew in a deep breath. “Sometimes . . . sometimes forgetting’s the only way to lose the pain.”
“Wow.” He shook his head. “That’s some serious bullshit right there, Piper.”
“It’s called a coping mechanism.”
“It’s denial, and trust me, denial’s bad for you.” He stood and walked off.
Okay, so once again, she’d said the wrong thing. She was getting really good at that, but then again, she’d had a lot of practice.
AT WORK, PIPER rode shotgun to Jenna. The day had been full already and it was barely noon. They’d patched up a trucker who’d picked up a hitchhiker and then gotten robbed and beaten up for his efforts. Then there was the contractor who’d stepped on his own shovel and gotten whacked in the face. Now they’d just left the hospital after a drop-off—a teenage pregnancy gone wrong thanks to an overdose.
Choices. It was all about choices, and every one of them had a consequence. Frankly, it was exhausting.
On the way to grab lunch, a call came through that had them taking off fast, following a fire truck to a multicar accident. They weaved and bobbed through traffic, Jenna being very liberal with her horn while muttering about idiots who should have their licenses revoked.
Sort of the theme of Piper’s life.
She felt her phone buzz with a text and eyed the message. It was from a real estate agent friend of hers, whom she’d contacted several months back for advice on selling the property. Alaina had suggested Piper give the house and cottages a light makeover for curb appeal, and in the meantime, Alaina would hunt down some potential buyers. Seemed she’d found a possible buyer, who’d be in town in two weeks.
Piper slid her phone away. Two weeks . . . perfect timing. She’d talk to her siblings about selling, something she hadn’t found time to do yet, and they’d continue to get the place ready, together. Then Gavin and Winnie would go back to their lives, and she’d be on the way to hers.
“So?” Jenna asked.
“So . . . what?”
“You still haven’t told me what’s happening between you and Hot Guy. You’ve ignored all my questions.”
“And you think now, heading to the scene of a major accident, is a good time?”
Jenna took a sharp left turn that had Piper practically kissing her window. “Hey!”
“Start talking.”
“I texted you the other day that everything’s fine, I’ve just been busy.”
“Yeah, and that’s not suspicious at all . . .” Jenna took another hard turn and Piper braced herself.
“You do know that you can’t afford another driving warning, right?”
“My driving’s perfect,” Jenna said. “Back up to what happened on the night of the storm last week. You’ve been cagey about that ever since. Ryland said he saw you and Hot Guy talking at the back door for a bit. Did he follow you home?”
“He has a name. It’s Cam. And what does my ex care who I was talking to?”
“Back up,” Jenna said. “Repeat that.”
“What does Ryland care who I—”
“Not that,” Jenna said. “The other thing.”
Piper blinked. “Are you hungover again?”
“I’m referring to the fact that you’re on a first-name basis with . . . Cam.” She waggled her eyebrows.
