Page 108 of Power Play Rivals

“Hmm.”

“Was your dad the one who got you into sports?”

“Yes,” her voice comes out even fainter now.

My forehead creases at the monosyllable answers, and then I remember something that Piper’s mother had said when we met each other—her father had passed away a few years back. Maybe that’s why Piper isn’t being as forthcoming all of a sudden.

“What did he do for a living? I already know your mom is a violinist. Was he also a musician?” I probe, doing my best to ease her back into the conversation.

“No,” she croaks. “He was a marine.”

Fuck.

“Is that… is that how he—”

“Maverick,” she calls out before I even finish the question.

I sit there in silence, unable to bear the sniffles on the other side of the door. I give her a minute, enough for her to regain her composure. I know how important it is for her to keep the glacial facade when she’s at her most vulnerable.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Does it even matter?”

“To me, it does. You matter to me.”

When she grows silent again, the pain in my chest feels fucking unbearable.

To hear her in anguish and not being able to do something about it is the worst torture I’ve ever experienced.

“Piper… are you ever going to let me in?”

“Not tonight.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, Trent. I know.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask after another bout of silence falls on us.

“No,” she whispers, giving me a flicker of hope. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure. I have nowhere else I would rather be than right here on your doorstep anyway.”

And that’s exactly where I stay for the remainder of the night—sitting on the floor in the hallway of Piper’s apartment, just talking about everything and nothing at all.

By the time morning arrives, I wake up lying on her doorstep, with a pillow beneath my head and one of her pink blankets covering me.

Piper might not have let me in last night, but she didn’t turn me away either.

Progress.

“Thank you, Alan. Today’s lesson was great,” I thank my tutor. “Thank you for bringing the aids I requested.”

“It’s not a problem. You’re the one who’s putting in the work.” He smiles as he packs his things.

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