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Over the past week and a half, Tristan has knocked down a few of my walls, and I’ve unraveled some of his past. Progress—it’s something we haven’t had until now.
CHAPTER TEN
TRISTAN
DAY 12
I suck in a deep breath as I make a perimeter check outside. Yesterday when I spoke to Mr. Montgomery, he reiterated that Jack was still MIA and to triple-check that the house was secure. For all I know, he could be on his way to Florida.
While we’ve been in hiding and Piper’s been off social media, there’s still the potential that Jack can find her. We’ve done everything possible to keep her location a secret, but we don’t know his intelligence level, so I'm not taking any chances.
I spend the rest of the morning reading while Piper records a video about learning how to make homemade lasagna. I smile with amusement about how excited she is about it. I try to tune her out so I can focus on my book, but it’s almost impossible when she’s gushing so hard.
We eat leftovers for lunch, then she gets on her laptop. Meanwhile, I bury myself on the couch with one of the thriller books my brother brought me. I’ve already read the other two.
An hour or so later, I hear Piper rummaging around in the kitchen. Moments later, she plops down on the opposite end with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.
“Uh, where did you get that?”
She snickers. “I found it in one of the cabinets.”
I can’t help but laugh when she twists off the cap and takes a swig.
“I have no idea how old that is, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be chugging it like it’s water.”
“I’d google it, but you know…no internet and all of that.” She waves her hand around.
I look at the time on my phone. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
Piper shrugs. “Oh well, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
She takes another gulp and wiggles her body afterward.
“Yeah, that Wild Turkey is going to do you in.”
“Listen, I’m old enough to drink and can handle my alcohol just fine.” She repositions her body and puts her legs on the couch until her feet are nearly in my lap. It’s then I notice how smooth her skin is and how goddamn beautiful she looks in this lighting. Well, really any time, but it’s not something I can ever say aloud.
“Let’s play a game…” she suggests. After every sentence she speaks, I swear she tips the bottle to her lips. “A drinking game.”
With a smirk, I meet her eyes. “I’ll play, but I won’t be partaking in ten-year-old whiskey shots or any alcohol.”
She sticks out her bottom lip and pouts.
“I have to be responsible, Piper. In case some psycho finds us and you need protecting. But…I’ll play a game.”
“I guess I’ll take what I can get.” Piper stands and slightly stumbles before laughing at herself. She carries the bottle with her and walks to the game closet.
While she takes her time reading the titles out loud, I know she’s never played any of them. It’s like being locked up with someone who’s been sheltered their entire life, and in an unconventional way, she has.
“This is the one.” She returns to the couch with Sorry!, a game I haven’t played since I was a kid. This time, she sits right next to me, the warmth of her bare skin taunting me. The sweet smell of her hair is intoxicating, but I try to ignore how my body reacts to it.
I open the box and set up the board. “Pick your color.”
“I’ll be red,” she tells me, then I explain the rules.
“We should sit on the floor so we have more room.”
“Fine with me.”
She moves everything in front of the fireplace, and we get comfortable around it.
“So, just to make sure I’ve got this right…if one of us lands in the same space as the other, then the pawn returns to start. The first one to get all their colors to home base wins.”
“Correct.”
“Got it. You can jump and bump. I guess now it’s time to add a little spice.”
I pop a brow at her.
“You said you won’t be drinking but…”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”
She flashes a mischievous grin. “How about each time we’re bumped out of our spot, you lose a piece of clothing. And since I’m drinking, I’ll also take a shot.”
“You’re stacking the game where we’ll be buck-ass naked by the end of it, especially because taking your opponent out is the goal.”
“Exactly,” she slurs.
“Clothing stays on,” I state.
“We’ll see about that.” She takes a card and moves her red pawn onto the board.
Piper’s smiling and having a good time as we play. All of our pawns are on the board when I draw a Sorry! card, which means one of her pieces goes back to start.
