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Chapter 38

Piper

Threesharp knocks on my door send my heart leaping into my throat. I cross the apartment in quick strides, twist the deadbolt, and then Lena is there—hair tucked behind her ears, eyes wide and worried.

She doesn’t speak. She just crashes into me, arms locking around my neck like she can hold me together by force. Her arms are so tight my spine pops. I stagger back, letting the door swing shut behind us.

She smells like coconut shampoo and that vanilla perfume she always wears. The familiarity of it breaks something in me, and I’m clutching her back just as tightly, my face pressed into her shoulder as hot tears slip free without permission.

“Pipes,” she whispers against my hair, and her voice catches on that single syllable. “God, I’ve been so worried.”

We stand like that in my hallway, swaying slightly, neither willing to be the first to let go. When we finally separate, her mascara has smudged beneath her eyes, and her hands tremble as she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You look better than the last time we had a video call,” she says, studying my face with the kind of careful scrutiny only someone who’s known you for years can get away with.

“I feel better.” I give her a reassuring smile.

She shifts awkwardly and holds up a crumpled brown bakery bag. “I brought chocolate cupcakes. Emergency-grade.”

The smell of rich cocoa leaks out, making my stomach twist with a sudden, fierce hunger for the cupcakes.

“Do you want some coffee?” I offer, desperate for something normal to do with my hands.

“Yes, please.”

While I busy myself with the coffee machine, Lena leans against the counter, picking apart a cupcake like it personally offended her, crumbs trailing down her fingers.

“Almond milk?” I ask, as if we’re just having another study session, as if nothing has changed.

“You know it.” She hesitates. “Pipes, I—”

“Let’s sit first,” I interrupt, not ready yet. “Please.”

With a sharp nod, Lena heads toward the living room, but comes to an abrupt stop.

“Jesus, Lee!” I yelp, almost crashing into her back. “Why did you—”

“What the fuck is that?” she asks, her tone shrill as she stabs her finger toward something in the living room.

I step around her to see what she’s sounding so worked up over. Oh, shit. The puzzle picture. Fuck. I’ve gotten so used to seeing it that I didn’t think to warn her.

“Umm…” I trail off, not sure how to explain it. “Let’s sit down.”

“I’m not sitting until you tell me what the fuck is going on,” she demands. Her hand’s shaking so badly the coffee almost sloshes over.

“Please, Lee,” I beg. “I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

We settle on the couch, both of us instinctively curling our legs underneath us, creating a small fortress of knees and mugs. The crumpled bakery bag sits between us like a forgotten peace offering.

Through the windows, afternoon light casts long rectangles across my floor. I trace one with my toe, buying time, searching for the right words.

“So,” Lena begins. “The last time we discussed Enzo, you just wanted to get your rocks off. But now you have his masterpiece displayed in your living room. What gives?”

Right, I guess we’re diving straight in.

“He kind of lives here now,” I admit.

“You live together?” Lena furrows her brows. “Why?”