Page 42 of Reconcile
She walks to her bedroom and gestures for me to follow her. Normally, I’d love the invitation, but there’s a storm brewing.
“Yes?” I look at her, trying to seem nonchalant, like I’m not fucking crawling out of my skin from nerves.
“A ‘P’?”
“Piper—” She stops me, walking to me and tugging my shirt up by the hem. Her fingers graze the skin over my stomach, and I want to resist, but I lift my arms and let her remove it.
Her fingertips slide over the tattoo on my chest. “Why?”
“Why what?” I can’t seem to move. I just look down at her fingers on my chest as she traces the letter.
“Why is my initial on your chest?” She looks up at me in horror, leaving her fingers on my skin. “Or is it Paisley’s?”
“No,” I answer her quickly. “It’s not for her. And you know why.” I place my hand over hers, flattening her palm over the ink.
“I don’t.” Her eyes fill with tears, which guts me. “Last I knew, I was in love with you, and then you fucked my sister.”
Bile rises in my throat, thinking about that night. “There was more to it.”
“So, tell me about it. What the hell happened?”
I don’t want to go back to that time, to the biggest mistake of my life. “Piper, I...”
She looks up at me with raw vulnerability, and I hook my hand behind her neck, bringing her closer to me. Breathing her in and wanting so badly to apologize for everything I’ve done. But what can I possibly say?
There’s no good reason for it.
I was a dipshit.
I hurt her.
But now, I see the strong, resilient woman she is and the kid we created together, and all I want is to make it better somehow. Explaining why I did what I did isn’t going to do that, so instead, I crash my mouth against hers, trying to say everything without words.
That I’m sorry.
That there’s no explanation.
That I’ll do better.
That I won’t hurt her.
She lets out a little squeak of surprise but doesn’t push me away. Instead, she kisses me back, her hand pressed against my chest between our bodies. I wrap my other arm around her and kiss her lips, licking the seam and praying she’ll let me in.
When she opens, I breathe a sigh of relief as my tongue sweeps inside, warring with hers as we drift toward her bed. Just as I’m about to lower her onto the mattress, however, the hand that’s resting on my tattoo pushes back.
Her mouth leaves mine, and I lean forward to chase her. But she pushes me further away, this time with both hands on my shoulder. “No. I can’t do this.”
“It felt like you could a minute ago.” I wasn’t imagining the way her tongue met mine, stroke for stroke, and the way she mewled into my mouth.
“I’m...” She shakes her head, putting more distance between us. “You’re confusing.”
“I am?” Is she kidding? I’ve never been more confused in my life. One minute, she hates me, and the next, she’s kissing me. She looks at me like she wants me, and then she’s glaring at me and pushing me away.
“Yes. You’re the cocky asshole who hurt me so badly that I’ve never trusted anyone since.” I wince, but she continues, “And then, you make pancakes with our daughter and take her swimming. You kneel down and look her in the eye. You actually listen to what she has to say.”
“She’s my kid.”
“But only just now...”
