Page 44 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

Chapter Thirteen

PIPER

Lost In The Dark

I had the shittiest luck in the world. Here I was trying to stay away from this guy and I ended up moving next door to him?

It was my own damn fault. When I was signing the lease, Diego had mentioned that the apartment was occupied, I just hadn’t bothered to ask any other questions.

I raced into my bedroom, a stack of moving boxes piled up against one wall. Everything about this day had gone sideways. I’d loaded up Sally Mae to haul my stuff, and Beck, without my knowing, had taken the day off from work at his advertising agency. It took three tries before we finally got the truck to start. Once we were on our way, Beck shot off a round of questions.

Did the kitchen have a fire extinguisher?

Was the stove gas or electric?

If it was gas, did the apartment have carbon-monoxide detectors?

The questions got more ridiculous as we circled the block four times before finding a parking spot. Heat from the bright orange sun beat down on us as we hauled box after box through the gate and up the stairs. When we were finally unloaded, I pushed him out the door, sweat dripping from my brow. With him gone, I’d gotten the brilliant idea to hop in the shower without a towel. That was until the rod crashed down, and I ended up answering the door in nothing but a cheap children’s shower curtain only to find the one man in Ivy Falls I was trying to avoid.

I tore open boxes until I found a pair of leggings, a bra that had seen better days and an old concert T-shirt I’d picked up in a vintage store in Brooklyn. With one hand still pressing the napkin to my head, I used the other to peel off the shower curtain. I cringed at the deep lines and marks from where the plastic pressed into my wet skin.

Once I was dressed, I tugged a brush through my hair and stalked back to the living room.

‘Sit down and let’s take a look.’ His voice was hesitant, like he didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing. I hated that it was so damn endearing.

I sank onto the couch and he skimmed the beam from the flashlight across my eyes.

‘How’s your head feeling?’

‘I do not have a concussion if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘You have to be thorough with head injuries.’ He flicked that light over my eyes again.

‘Head injuries? It’s a cut. You’re being too dramatic.’

‘Dramatic,’ he chuckled. ‘Who’s the one that answered the door wrapped up like a taco in a vinyl shower curtain? Were those dancing pink unicorns I saw?’

‘Yes,’ I grumbled. ‘The curtains in the adult section of the store were boring.’

He did a poor job of hiding a smirk as he reached for the first aid kit and pulled out a vacuum-sealed alcohol pad.

‘This may sting a little.’ He eased the napkin away from my head and dabbed at the cut. Under his breath he started to hum and it took me a minute to recognize the melody.

‘That song gets in your brain and doesn’t let go, right?’

He tilted his head before he realized what I meant. ‘Yes, but “A Spoonful of Sugar” is kind of a classic.’ His focus went back to my head. ‘How long have you been playing the piano?’

‘Since I could climb on a stool and reach the keys.’

‘And the singing?’ he said, peeling apart a sterile package and pressing a white, gauzy bandage gently to my head.

I stared at his cornflower-blue eyes. The flecks of gold that danced around the iris. Dammit. He was too gorgeous for words and here I was behaving like a fucking damsel in distress.

‘A few lessons when I was a preteen. Some more vocal training when I lived in New York.’

‘Right, you mentioned New York.’

‘I was one of those starry-eyed girls who goes to the big city with all these dreams. Thought I could be on Broadway. Spent every penny I made waiting tables to see shows like Six and Hadestown. Memorized the songs. Even the blocking onstage. I spent hours in front of the mirror practicing my dancing. Had this vision that I could be up there one day performing for packed houses.’