Once the door is shut, I head back to my cabin.
My mind is still weighing and considering the ramifications of getting Oliver and Finley to split the property. We could turn it into a camp, like Oliver wants, but Finley could stay and help manage it. With a lot more help, obviously.
Of course, there’s always the distinct possibility that neither will agree or budge on this. They’re both stubborn and set in their ideas. I’m not sure if it will give Finley exactly what she wants, but it’s a step in the right direction.
The only thing is, once I put this idea out there, if Finley likes it, I’ll have no reason to stay. The thought is like an axe to my burgeoning hope. It might be for the best anyway. The more I’m around Finley, the more I want her, and the harder it is to keep a friendly distance.
ChapterSixteen
Finley
Iswipe to answer the phone as soon as the name appears on the screen. “Piper.” My voice is high pitched—overly enthusiastic. She rarely calls, so when she does, it’s hard to tamp down my excitement.
“Hey, Finley. Just checking in on you and Jacob. It’s been a while.” Her voice is quiet, wan, and tired.
“We’re doing great!” If great means losing our home, Jacob turning into a nonfunctioning alcoholic, and falling for the enemy. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” But her voice is flat.
“That’s good. That’s really good. It’s snowing like crazy here.” I lean back in the office chair and turn my gaze toward the front window. Overnight, the temperature dropped and the rain turned into snow. It’s been coming down ever since, chunky flakes flurrying to the ground, the thick blanket growing taller by the hour.
“I miss the snow.” Her tone is more longing than one might expect considering we’re discussing the weather.
Worry jabs at me. “You can come home any time you want. You know that. You could come home for Easter. Or you could fly home today and play in the snow.”
She sniffs. “Listen, Finley, I—” A door slams in the background. She covers the receiver with a hand and speaks to someone, her voice too low for me to make out the words.
“Piper? Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Wait, please. If there’s something going on—”
“Everything is fine.” The response is quick and firm, if rushed.
“Okay, okay. You can always”—my mind scrambles—“if you need anything and you can’t say it, use a safe word.”
At that, she releases a low chuckle. “And what would that be?”
“I don’t know . . . rutabaga.”
She doesn’t laugh. It’s quiet on the line.
I keep going. “Say the word, and I’m on the next flight to California, and I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want. Just say the word.” I’m practically begging. It’s the truth. I would do it. I would run up another credit card, sell the truck, burn the world to the ground to get to Piper and keep her safe.
Ben’s voice murmurs in the background. Then Piper says in a voice that’s too calm, too dead. “Everything is fine. I’ll call you later.”
The line disconnects, and I want to throw my cell phone across the room—and I would if I actually had the money to replace it.
I take a few deep breaths instead, but it’s not nearly as satisfying.
According to Piper, it’s always fine. But it’s not okay, not at all. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m completely helpless. Frustration pounds through me. She’s across the country. If something happened, I would never forgive myself. It would be like when Aria died, and I wasn’t there.
My heart threatens to break apart.
But what can I do? There’s nothing I can do or say to make her leave Ben, to make her come here. All attempts to force her will lead to her pulling away further.
How do you convince someone to change their life? How do you convince them there’s a problem in the first place?