Page 70 of Wrecked
There was nothing he would have done differently, nothing that could have prevented what happened. And he had to find a way to live with that.
But the fact that Deacon knew how messed up he’d been, that he was still working on it—shit, that he more than likely still had a long way to go? Yeah, his acceptance of his and Piper’s relationship blew him away.
He turned to his friend. “Take me to Piper.”
Deke stood. “About fucking time.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Piper threw her wrench in the toolbox and leaned against the workbench. She’d been at the garage since Deke left to find Cole. Keeping busy was better than reliving what happened in her living room every time she closed her eyes.
How badly she’d screwed up.
It also meant she’d hear Cole when…if, he came home. So far, nothing. No sign of him. No texts or calls. Not that she expected any.
The look on his face when she’d told him what she’d done, that she’d called Kate... She shook her head and tried to push it from her mind. Jesus, she’d more than likely ruined everything. He’d been about to tell Deke and, okay, Deke had already figured it out, but the sentiment behind it was loud and clear.
Despite her conversation with her brother, she refused to believe that was the end. Yes, she’d messed up, badly, but Cole had feelings for her. He had to. Why else would he want to bring their relationship out in the open? No, she refused to give up on him.
The bang of a car door closing echoed across the empty parking lot outside. The garage doors were closed, but Axle Alley was quiet after hours, which meant every sound bounced off the garage’s steel walls. Had Cole come back to talk? Would he let her explain why she’d done what she had?
Pulling the side door open, she walked outside, nerves making her queasy. Cole’s car was not in its usual spot by the outside stairs. Maybe he’d gone straight to her place? She started across the lot toward her cottage.
She was about twenty feet away when she saw someone walking across the front lawn. She opened her mouth to call out when the dark figure walked around the side of the house instead of taking the front steps. She pulled up short, freezing. It wasn’t Cole. Whoever that was had a smooth gait, missing his pronounced limp. Shorter, too. Which also counted out her brother.
Whoever it was, he had no business walking around her place at night.
She hadn’t recovered from her prowler the other night, and fear turned her limbs to stone. He’d come back.
Heart hammering in her chest, palms growing sweaty, she reached back slowly and pulled her phone from her pocket, hitting the call button. She was too afraid to move, too afraid to look away, to look at her screen. She wasn’t sure who she’d called last, but whoever it was could get help.
It rang once and voicemail kicked in, Cole’s deep voice coming down the line.
Please answer.
She hit call again—and again she got voicemail.
The sound of shattering glass rang out seconds later. Oh my God. She expected the alarm to go off, maybe scare him away, but when nothing happened, she remembered she hadn’t set it. She’d been too distracted, too upset when she walked out earlier and had completely forgot.
A surge of adrenaline moved through her, and she stumbled back a step. Her boots scraped against the gravel, right as the creep moved back into view. Of course, he saw her. The light from her phone gave her away easily.
He turned fully, staring at her across the distance.
“Ohgodohgodohgod,” she whispered.
The guy took a step forward, and she took one back. He took another, and she started walking backward. He kept coming toward her, then broke into a jog.
A scream tore from her throat as indescribable fear spiked through her veins, kicking her into action. Spinning around, she took off at a sprint, back toward the garage. She grabbed the door handle and yanked, but it didn’t budge. She’d locked herself out. She felt her pockets, but she didn’t have her keys. Oh shit. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
He’d slowed but was still coming.
She dove for the outside stairs and ran up them two at a time. Then she remembered she’d left the spare key in Cole’s kitchen the other night. Please let it be there. Fighting back a helpless sob, she kicked the plant aside and nearly collapsed with relief when she saw he’d put it back.
The guy was at the base of the stairs, and he paused, looking up at her.
She snatched up the key with a shaking hand. “What do you want? God, p-please don’t hurt me.” She couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a ski mask. But she knew he was enjoying her fear.
He took the first step, and she jammed the key in the lock. Her phone, still clutched in her hand, slipped from her sweaty fingers and clattered to the ground. That’s when he stopped playing and pounded up after her.
