Break of Day (21 page)

“Didn't they even call the police?”

“From what I understand someone called the cops when they heard my mother's screaming. When they showed up the boyfriend had disappeared and she was completely hysterical—they had to take her to a psych ward for the night.”

“What about you?”

I shrugged. “I slipped out of the van after they'd all left and looked for Michael some more. I looked all night—I almost drowned wading through the water in the dark. But I never found him. The next day they picked me up—my mother had sobered up and remembered leaving me in the van. They took me straight to the Holloway House and then stuck me with my first foster family while they investigated. For months I was frantic, not knowing if they'd ever found Michael.”

“Did they?”

“I found out later his body washed up on shore three days later. There was no evidence of foul play, of course. But they arrested my mother anyway on child endangerment charges and tried her for second-degree murder. I had to testify in the trial. For months I was coached on my testimony. I told them all my mother had been there, that she had been watching, but my brother had been swept away by a riptide, too quickly for anyone to do anything.” I shrugged. “I don't know if anyone believed me. But they did downgrade her sentence to involuntary manslaughter and drug possession.
She went to jail for a few years before she was released for good behavior.”

“Did you ever talk to her about it again?”

I scowled. “Are you kidding? She never lets me forget it. She loves to remind me how she went to jail to protect me. For not letting them know who was really responsible for Michael's death.”

I could see Asher's hands tighten into fists, knuckles whitening to bone. “Addicts never take responsibility for their actions. But that doesn't make them not responsible,” he added. “Piper, what happened to your brother was a terrible tragedy. But it was not—in any way—your fault. You were a child! You should have never been put in that situation!”

“No,” I agreed. “But that doesn't change anything now. I can't undo what happened. And I've had to live with it every day of my life.” I shrugged slowly. “I guess now you can see why I don't like to lose control,” I added. “Because the one time I did, I pretty much lost everything.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Asher grabbed me, crushing me into a fierce hug. Pulling me close, kissing and cuddling me and holding me in his arms. I could feel his heartbeat against my ear, feel his warmth sneaking into my freezing skin. I may have been afraid of the water, but I had never felt as safe and protected as at that moment.

I should have been embarrassed. My face should have been burning in shame. I should have been petrified that he would go tell everyone my darkest secret. And yet, as we sat there, Asher stroking my hair and whispering in my ear, I felt none of the above. Instead, I felt a strange sense of freedom.

I'd told the truth—after all these years—the total truth, no holds barred. And just like that, the truth had lost its power over me. All those years my mother had held it over my head. All that guilt I'd bottled up deep inside. It was as if the truth had been a weight that had been resting on my chest this entire time and now it had been lifted and I could raise my head. Sit up. Stand. Run free.

It was exhilarating. Petrifying, too. But mostly exhilarating. Like a door had been opened and for the first time I could step out into the light.

We lay like that for a while, no longer speaking. But the silence between us was more comforting than awkward. And eventually, Asher lifted his head, listening. Then he turned to me.

“You know, I think the storm may have passed,” he remarked.

I stared at him, surprised. In all the distraction I hadn't even registered the fact that the boat was no longer rocking like crazy.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked. “Get the hell off this boat?”

I considered this for a moment, then a smile tugged at my lips. “Maybe we should wait a little longer,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I'm feeling pretty comfortable right about now.”

He leaned over and kissed me soundly on the mouth. “You and me both, baby.”

I
woke the next day before the sun, but I had no interest in getting out of bed. Normally on a Saturday morning I'd want to be the first one out there, catching the perfect wave. But not when I'd already caught the perfect girl in my bed.

I glanced down at Piper now, all rumpled and sleeping under a sheet, her red curls splayed out across the pillow. We'd returned here after our boating adventure, under the guise of wanting to talk about the experience, but really I just didn't want her to go home. I'd offered to let her have my bed and for me to take the couch. But she just looked at me with those big brown eyes of hers and said we could share.

I wasn't going to argue with that.

We didn't sleep together. I mean beyond what had happened under the deck of the boat, which still had my entire body humming. But it didn't go beyond that, and once we crawled under the covers all we did was kiss. Which was kind of nice actually. The girls I normally dated were so quick to jump into bed. Almost as quick as I was to jump out of bed the next morning. But kissing Piper and talking to Piper and sharing with Piper—that was something new.
And the intimacy was proving almost more erotic than actually doing the deed.

I wanted to wake her now, to cover her body with more kisses, teasing her into consciousness. But I knew I should let her sleep. She was clearly exhausted—both physically from all the shifts she'd been pulling for her two jobs, and mentally from the ordeal on the boat the night before. I still couldn't believe that we'd gotten stuck out in a storm; I really was a lousy weatherman. But what happened during that storm made me pretty happy that I sucked as badly as I did.

I was so proud of her I could hardly stand it—how she'd faced her fears head-on like she had. Not just in getting on the boat itself, but in opening herself up, trusting me with the story behind the phobia. Even thinking about what she'd gone through filled me with rage—no person should have to live like she had, and half of me wanted to go down to that rehab and smack her mother upside the head. For being so weak, so selfish. For pushing her own guilt onto her daughter because she couldn't bear to live with it herself.

But in the end, I knew it would do no good. The woman was an addict; she had a disease. She had to fight her own demons, just as Piper was now fighting hers. Maybe someday she would reach the point where she could ask Piper for forgiveness. Admit responsibility at last—and free her daughter from the shackles of guilt she didn't deserve to wear. At least she was in the right space to do so this time—the rehab I'd placed her in was one of the best in the country. If anyone could help her, they could.

Speaking of helping, today we planned to head to the Holloway House and tell Piper's boss about the surf school and get permission to enroll the kids. I was excited—but also nervous. I'd never taken on anything so big before. Never tried something that could so easily fail. But with Piper on my side, I felt nearly invincible. She had faced her fears last night. Now it was time for me to man up and do the same.

Piper groaned, rolling over in bed and blinking up at me with sleepy eyes, shuttered by long thick lashes. Most
redheads I knew had very sparse, light-colored lashes—so light you could barely see them. But Piper's were thick and curly and long, perfectly framing her large brown eyes. I couldn't get enough of them.

Of her, either.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I teased, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Her skin was warm on my lips, almost dewy, and suddenly it was all I could do not to grab her and yank her flush against me—until her soft curves melted into my hard frame. I imagined reaching down, cupping that perfect ass of hers, and pulling her leg on top of me before closing the gap between us.

But instead, I remained a gentleman. Or tried to, anyway, until I felt her reaching out, dragging a lazy hand over my morning wood, an impish look on her face. I froze, staring at her.

“You had your turn last night,” she reminded me with a sly smile. “Turnabout is fair play, don't you think, Anderson?”

Then, before I could even register the movement, she was under the covers, pulling down my boxer briefs, freeing me from their constraints. I groaned as her fingers wrapped securely around the length of me, her thumb sliding over the tip and toying with the bead of moisture that had formed almost instantly. I lay back, staring up at the ceiling, as she began to stroke me, softly, rhythmically. And when she lowered her mouth to take me inside, I almost had a heart attack on the spot.

Truth was, I'd had plenty of blowjobs in my day. Quickies in the car at the end of a date, mostly, so I could get home and get on with my night. But I'd had very few performed in the early hours of the morning, while I was warm and cozy and still half-asleep. As I lay there now, eyes closed, rejoicing in the feel of her hot mouth sliding up and down my cock, I suddenly understood the appeal of the morning after just a little bit more.

“God, Piper.” I twitched and my hands went instinctively to her hair, digging into the soft strands. “You have to stop.”

“But I'm only getting started,” she teased, pulling off of
me to speak. The sudden absence of her mouth on me was so abrupt and harsh I almost grabbed her head and shoved her back on.

Thankfully I was able to restrain myself from that kind of caveman behavior and instead pulled her into my arms, cuddling her close to me and kissing the top of her head again, then her cheeks. She splayed a hand over my chest and snuggled up against me.

“Didn't you like that?” she asked sleepily.

I groaned. “Sweetheart, you have no idea,” I said, still feeling the heat pulsating through my body. “It's just . . . I want to make sure you're really okay with all of this—with us—before we take it any further.”

I could feel her heavy sigh against my chest. “Can't we just not think about that right now? Just enjoy this for what it is?”

I stiffened. At her words. At the lines I'd used myself on countless girls in the past, echoing back in my ears.
Why ruin what we have with labels? Why analyze it to death? Let's live in the moment—let's not ruin this night. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Even when I would say those words to the others, I'd know deep down I was being a dick. But I had no idea just how much they would hurt when thrown back in my face. By someone I truly cared about.

The one girl I wanted more from. The one girl I did want to think of a future with.

The one girl who had no interest in a future with me.

I slipped out of bed, trying to ignore the crushing weight on my chest
.
I could feel Piper's eyes on me, worried now, but I ignored them, grabbing my jeans and shucking them over my hips.

“Come back to bed,” she begged. “I'm sorry. We can just sleep or whatever.”

“You sleep,” I said. “I need to get all my papers in order for our pitch to your boss this morning.”

“That's not for hours, Asher.”

“And I need every minute. I want to make sure this proposal is the best it can be.”

She sat up in bed, giving me a pleading look. “You're mad at me,” she said. “I'm sorry, Asher. I didn't mean—”

I waved her off. “There's nothing wrong,” I assured her. “I'm not mad.” I walked over to the bed and kissed her quickly on the head. “Everything is exactly how it was before. I just need to work, that's all.”

But that was a lie, I thought as I walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Something
had
changed between us. Changed inside of me, anyway. Somewhere along the line Piper had gone from a prize to be won to a girl I needed to have.

And I wasn't sure what I'd do about that if she didn't feel the same about me.

*   *   *

W
e arrived at the Holloway House later that morning, pulling into the lot and parking my bus. As I stepped out of Fiona and grabbed my paperwork from the back, I could feel my heart thrumming a staccato beat. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I mean, I was offering something to them, free of charge, not asking for anything in return. If anything, they should have been falling over backwards in gratitude at my generosity.

But all the rational thinking in all the world couldn't calm my rapidly beating heart. Nor did the skeptical look on the face of Piper's boss as I walked through the front door. Piper had spoken highly of Toby on more than one occasion, telling me the woman had basically single-handedly made her into the woman she was today. But I could tell from a quick look that while Toby might be Piper's number one fan, she was holding out judgment on me.

Which was to be expected, I supposed, though it didn't do anything to calm my nerves.

“So what's this all about?” she asked, plopping down behind her desk, crossing her arms over her chest.

Piper gestured for me to sit down as she did the same. “Toby, this is Asher Anderson,” she introduced. “The meteorologist I work with at News 9.”

Toby gave a small snort in response, giving me a critical once-over. Letting me know in no uncertain terms the TV thing didn't impress her much.

Piper kept talking. “Asher is opening up a surf school for at-risk kids,” she explained. “He'll provide all the equipment and the teachers and the busing back and forth. And he's willing to take on any kids from the Holloway House who want lessons for free.”

Toby was silent for a moment, pushing her bottom lip out, as if in thought. Then she frowned. “Sounds like a waste of good money,” she declared at last.

“Excuse me?” Piper stammered. She was clearly not expecting this.

“These kids need food and clothing—their basic needs met. They don't need to learn how to surf.”

Piper's mouth clamped shut. She gave me a helpless look. I leaned forward in my chair. My turn.

“We all need food,” I said, keeping my voice even. “But sometimes we need to feed our souls as well.”

Toby narrowed her eyes. “They go to church on Sunday.”

“I'm not talking about that.” I raked a hand through my hair, trying to order my thoughts. “It's just—these kids have been dealt a bad hand, right? They're all struggling to gain control over their lives. Surfing can give them a feeling of accomplishment, of control. They'll take on waves, bend the ocean to their will—break down something that feels, at first, so massive into something totally manageable. It's empowering, to say the least.”

Toby turned to look at me—to really look at me this time, her dark eyes drilling into me, as if she could peel back my skin and see my soul beneath.

“Go on,” she said in a grudging voice.

“Surfing will give kids something to look forward to. Something they can be proud of. It's physical, too, so it helps with keeping them in shape. And it's mentally challenging
as well—you need to observe the waves, analyze where they will crest and break. And above all,” I added, a little sheepishly, “it's fun. And don't these kids deserve to have fun sometimes, like everyone else?”

Toby gave a slow nod. “It sounds like an ambitious project,” she said. Then she frowned. “What if it fails?”

I cocked my head in question. “Fails?” Of all the questions I'd tried to anticipate, this hadn't been one of them.

Toby folded her hands in front of her. “No offense, Mr. Anderson,” she said. “But I've seen your kind in here before. Pitching these grand do-good projects to so-called ‘help' my kids. They all sound amazing. So splendid and cool. But ninety percent of them sputter out before they can really begin. And the rest?” Her mouth set in a scowl. “They get bored and move on to the next venture.”

“But I wouldn't—”

Toby raised a hand to stop me. “Look, Mr. Anderson, these kids aren't a bucket list item that you can check off and feel good about your privilege. They need people they can depend on. They've had enough adults waltzing in and out of their lives, crushing their little hopes and dreams under their heels. They're only children and yet most of them have already suffered more disappointments than you will in your entire life. And I can't have you coming in here, promising them the world, only to leave them high and dry once you get bored.”

I sat there in my seat, dumbfounded. Not sure what to say. I wanted to protest—to tell her that I wasn't like that. That when I committed to something I followed through. But she would never believe me. Mostly because it wasn't true. In fact, up until now I hadn't truly committed to anything in my life except meteorology. And that was only because I hadn't been given a choice.

Anger surged through me. At Toby—for her hesitation to commit to the project. At myself—for being the kind of guy who prompted such hesitation.

I tossed the proposal on her desk, then rose to my feet. “Look it over,” I said. “Let Piper know what you think. You have three days to decide before I take the offer to
another group home. I'm sure someone will appreciate my charity.”

“Asher . . .” I could feel Piper reaching for my arm. I shook her off.

“I'll be outside when you're ready,” I told her. And with that, I stormed out of the office, my stomach roiling with nausea.

So this was what people truly thought of me. And maybe they were right to think it. Before Piper had come around I wouldn't have cared, either—I would have probably turned it into a joke.
Look at Asher, such an irresponsible clown
. Hell, I'd worn my Joker status as a badge of honor.

But Piper had changed all of that. She had made me want to be a better person. The kind of person a girl like her could be proud of. The kind of person a girl like her would want on her arm.

“You okay?”

I whirled around to see Piper standing there, watching me. I groaned, leaning up against Fiona, banging my head against her side. “That did not go as I hoped,” I muttered.