“They do that most weekends. He doesn’t usually come back here though. Probably because my sister would slam the door in his face if he tried to knock while he was drunk.”
Christian’s hands settle on his hips, his head falling back as he stares at the ceiling like it might have the answers to all his problems.
“Christian?” I say softly.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek before I speak, searching for the right words.“Travis doesn’t wanna change. He is who he is. And I know you try with him. Christ, I’ve watched you bend over backward trying to reach him. But just like we can’t pick our parents, we also can’t pick our kids.”
“I don’t give up on people. Not him, not anyone. Not unless I’ve tried every last thing and there’s nothing worth fighting for.”
“And you shouldn’t.” I step closer, needing him to really hear this. “But I see you, Christian. I see how much you try and how much it costs you every time he throws it back in your face.”
“I suppose you think I’m wasting my time, right?”
“Yeah.” His dark eyes snap to mine like he’s finally hearing the truth for the first time. “But that’s what makes you a good dad. Knowing it’s probably hopeless and showing up anyway.”
“I’m not a good father, Piper. Not even close.”
“That’s not true.”
“Trust me.” He moves in, backing me up until the bar digs into my spine. “I’m the worst kind of man.” Another inch and he’s right there, close enough that I can breathe him in. “The things I think about… the things I want… they make me deserve every bit of Travis’s hate.”
He’s watching me like he wants to tear me apart and put me back together using nothing but his hands, his mouth, and the weight of his body against mine.
“But you… you make me not give a damn about anything except taking.” He won’t look at me now, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. And I get it—I see why. Because if he meets my gaze, he’s crossing that line. He’s shoving aside guilt and consequence, morality and blood ties, and he’s taking every last piece of me.
Chapter 10
Christian
We’ve been dancingaround each other all night, a push and pull that’s driving me out of my fucking mind. She didn’t need me breathing down her neck while she poured drinks, but that didn’t stop me from finding a hundred bullshit reasons to hover close—just enough to catch the scent of the strawberry shampoo she uses and feel the heat rolling off her body like a goddamn invitation.
The how and why stopped mattering fifty excuses ago.
Now it’s just this pure, aching need.
Minty, our last lingering customer, finally stumbles out into the cold, and the door swings shut behind him. My fingers find the locks, and the sound of each one sliding home feels like a heartbeat.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Now it’s just us, trapped in the amber glow of low bar lights while some heartbroken bastard wails on the jukebox about wanting what he can’t have.
Fitting.
Painfully fucking fitting.
Especially when I’m alone with her like this, and she looks the wayshe does. And that fucking skirt? Sweet Jesus, it should be illegal. The way it clings to her body and rides up those thighs when she bends to wipe down tables—it’s a test of my patience.
Having her like this, so accessible, so perfectly takeable… it’s all I can think about. The things I want to do to her are dark enough to blacken my soul, and right now, I couldn’t give a single goddamn fuck about redemption.
Piper’s clearing glasses, and I’m watching her move like I have a thousand times before, except tonight there’s something feral clawing at my chest.
Maybe it’s having her under my roof, breathing my air, and leaving traces of herself everywhere I turn.A sweater draped over the back of a chair, a hairband forgotten on the bathroom sink beside my shaving foam, little pieces of her scattered through my home like she’s already mine. Or maybe it’s the way she looks at Travis now, like she’s already somewhere else entirely. He’s too fucking self-absorbed to see that she’s miserable, and that she’s practically slipped through his fingers.
