Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,42

though they laugh about it, there’s definitely a reverence to the topic. I’ve never given it much thought, but I’m definitely looking under every rock for something to help me out here, so I try adapting the prayer Chloe used earlier tonight in hopes it might fit this situation.

Archangel Michael—

No. This already feels totally idiotic. I’ve just got to do it my way.

Dude, help a brother out. I’ve got no freaking idea how to fix this, and she’s so damned important to me.

My mind drifts back to Chloe talking to herself as I came to her boat yesterday evening. She does that a lot—talks to herself, prays out loud—so I didn’t think anything of it, but now her words whisper in my head.

“Healing is brought about through love and vulnerability.”

I love Piper enough to do anything for her, but…vulnerability? I’m a guy. Hell, I’m a cop. I’m not even sure what vulnerability would look like. But nothing else has worked with this kid. I think about things from Piper’s perspective, and I wonder why it took me so damn long to do this.

“Piper,” I say, my voice surprisingly level and compassionate.

I take a deep breath and feel some walls slide down. I didn’t even know I had them up. It’s just how I’ve always been. Am I going soft as I get older? Or is there more to Chloe’s work than meets the eye?

“I know how hard this move has been on you. And I know you miss your dad. I miss him too. Every day.” I pause and lean my head back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. “I know I sometimes come down on you pretty hard, but honey, when you get that close to real danger, it scares the shit out of me.”

I exhale and settle in for a long wait. I’m not leaving until Karen comes home or I take Piper to school tomorrow.

“I never knew how hard it would be to keep that promise I made your dad.”

The door opens, and Piper’s standing there, face red and wet, making her look ten instead of fifteen.

“Great,” she says with a dash of attitude but no anger. “Now you’re calling me high maintenance?” She leans her shoulder against the door. “You’re the one who acts like a girl.” She imitates a high-pitched whiny voice. “Piper, talk to me. Piper, why aren’t you texting me back? Piper, what are you doing this weekend, want to hang out?”

My laughter comes out of nowhere, a short burst of relief and humor. A tired smile lifts her mouth, allowing the rest of my tension to fade and happiness to push in.

Piper mirrors my position on the other side of the hall and wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. We remain silent for a few long, relaxing minutes.

“I really do love you, you know?” The declaration comes more easily than it ever has in the past. “You’re special. You’ve always been special. You’re sweet and feisty and smart. You have so much going for you, it kills me to see you risk throwing away all you could do and be just to hang out with shitty friends.”

“Shitty friends are better than no friends.”

The loneliness I know she’s been suffering permeates the sentiment. “There’s got to be other people at school you could hang out with.”

“You so don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me. I want to understand.”

“Everyone already has someone. The rich and beautiful kids have a popular clique. The smart kids have an AP clique. The sports kids have a jock clique. The nice kids have an impenetrable besties clique going back to fucking kindergarten.”

I let the curse pass.

“I have no one. And I don’t even have Mom.” She gestures to the empty house. “No one gives a shit about me.”

“Hello,” I say, holding my arms out.

“You’re only here because you made Dad a promise.”

“Yeah, I made your dad a promise, but even if I hadn’t, I would be here. I’ve loved you since the first time you beat me at Candyland.”

“You really sucked at that game.”

“It was all those slides and ladders. They let you take short cuts. That’s bullshit.”

She laughs. Real laughter that pushes away some of the darkness hovering between us. “That’s Chutes and Ladders. You sucked at that game too.”

I sigh. “Have you eaten? Because I haven’t, and I don’t suck at grilled cheese.”

“Good luck finding anything in the fridge.”

A thread of anger weaves through my chest, but I tamp