Chapter 10

10

Piper

It's been days since I last had to endure seeing Cutter Buckley in person.

My best guess is that slap across the face worked. Him and his jerk baseball buddies messing around like that with me. Telling me there's an emergency and it's just a bunch of drunk baseball players laughing like moronic jocks. All at my expense.

I don't know who drove him to get his SUV back, but it's been gone.

My car is running just fine.

I have a check written out to Cutter in my glovebox. Next time I have to see him, I'll hand him the check and thank him again for his help and that's the end of everything.

You can call the slap unfair but one thing I do not tolerate at all is when someone starts talking about my personal life, especially my son. Just because I have a son doesn't make me any different. And just because I'm a single mother doesn't either. I'm not someone looking for a handout or begging for help.

I didn't even ask for Cutter's help the night my car wouldn't start.

He offered. I accepted.

Move on.

"Smells like pasta," Saxon says as he walks into the kitchen.

I stir the penne and eye the jar sauce in a pan, warming up.

"Bread and butter?" I ask him.

"I've got to cook now too?"

"I hardly consider that cooking."

"I should have stayed in my room."

"Your fault," I say.

Saxon gives me an eye roll and then butters up enough bread for me and him.

I have places set at the dining room table, plus a fresh salad made.

I can already tell he's going to ask if he can eat in his room tonight.

It's a fifty-fifty chance I'll say yes.

Tonight it's about a ninety-nine percent chance.

He's in a mood and wants to hang in his room. I respect that. Being ten is awful. (His words, not mine.)

"Mom," Saxon says.

"It's fine."

My son looks at me. "How do you do that?"

I point at my head. "Mom brain. The most powerful thing in the world."

"Right," Saxon says.

I finish making the pasta, mix it with the sauce, and hand Saxon what used to be a white spoon. It's stained an almost orange color from pasta sauce.

He scoops himself a gigantic bowl and disappears before I can remind him to make a salad at some point too.

"Brat," I whisper with a smile.

That's how I end up sitting alone at the dining room table, enjoying a small bowl of cheap pasta, store bought sauce, and salad that came from a bag.

Mom life.

My thoughts ease their way to a certain person, but for good reason.

I know that Cutter Buckley is not staying for long. It's not like he moved here or anything like that. He's here to rehab an injury and then go back to his famous baseball player life. Which means he could end up being in town for only a few days or so.

I am not letting him get away without me paying him back for the car battery.

I check the time on my phone and make the assumption that he's at the gym swimming right now. There's no way in hell I am going back to his house. Not after what happened. Even though I know exactly where he lives.

Also - what in the world is he doing with that large house for himself?

Or maybe his agent or someone just rented it for him.

It doesn't matter.

I carry my empty bowls to the sink and make the executive decision to take a quick ride over to the gym. Not to see Cutter Buckley in person. No. What I can do is put the check on his windshield? Like a parking ticket, right under one of the wiper blades.

For some reason this really makes sense.

I set the wheels in motion when I go upstairs to Saxon's room to tell him I have to run to work really quick. That I trust him to be home alone, which makes his eyes light up with excitement. He knows he won't exactly be home alone.

My next stop is over the railing on the porch and I knock on Maryanne's door.

She answers with a pair of binoculars around her neck and a smile on her face.

"Everything okay, Piper?"

"Yes," I say. "But I have to run over to work for something. I'll be a minute there. I told Saxon he can stay here…"

"Of course," Maryanne says. "Want me to come over?"

"I trust him."

"Okay. Perfect. Tell you what. I'm just brewing up a pot of coffee so I'll sit on the porch and relax. My routine anyway. I'll be close but he'll still have some distance to enjoy himself."

"Thank you for the help."

"So what happened over there? Hackers get into the system or something? I keep seeing things about that. Amazing, huh? Scary stuff. Makes you want to keep your money in a mattress."

"Need to have money to hide," I blurt out.

Maryanne laughs. "You know something I saw, Piper? There's a conspiracy out there that birds are robots. Can you believe that?"

"Honestly, I can believe anything right now," I say. "Not saying it's true, but… I have to go. I'll be back in a few. Thank you again."

I hurry off the porch before Maryanne can continue to speak.

Believe me, the entire time I'm telling myself this is kind of a stupid idea. It's weird. It's almost clingy.

But my focus is the same.

All I want to do is pay Cutter back.

I'm not the kind of woman looking for a savior with a fat wallet. No thanks.

I'd prefer a man with a fat cock… but that's a whole other set of thoughts and needs.

I swallow hard and tell myself to calm down and relax.

All I'm going to do is drive to the gym, look for Cutter's obnoxiously huge SUV, put the check somewhere on the vehicle, and then leave.

Oh, and if he's ballsy enough to not cash the check, looking to be a hero, I'll one up him on that too. If the check isn't cashed in… two weeks… I'll do a stop payment and then take that amount of money and donate it.

In other words - no man is buying me a car battery.

Don't need it. Don't want it.

A voice in the back of my head wants to know about the fat cock though.

I swallow hard and focus on the road.

The last thing I need right now is to be thinking about anything that has to do with Cutter Buckley's penis.

I notice the car behind me and get the same sinking in my belly feeling that I had the last time.

Yes, the serial killer is back.

And here I am, dumb enough to be out on my own with my son sort of home alone.

Panic settles in as I wonder what Maryanne would do if I never came back home. What will happen to Saxon? He'll probably get tossed to Hunter. And we all know Hunter won't have the first clue on how to raise him.

I speed up.

The car behind me speeds up.

I can't tell if the headlights are those annoying LED ones or if the serial killer has their high beams blaring at me. Warning me. Threatening me. Wanting me to make a mistake and turn down a dark street. Or crash.

I think about calling Cutter.

But that would mean I owe him even more besides the money for a car battery.

I slow as I approach a stop sign.

I take a chance and I don't fully stop.

Instead, I simply coast through the stop sign and then turn right at the last possible second.

My eyes watch carefully in the rearview mirror.

For a few seconds… nothing.

I exhale a breath.

Then I see the car take the turn. To the right.

It's still following me.

At the next corner, I turn left.

Same for the next one.

Another logical thought hits me.

Whoever this is following me, they must work for Cutter. He's a famous baseball player. He probably has security. Protection. Bodyguards. Whatever you want to call it. He's not in some big city or with his normal trainers and all that.

I finally feel like I've lost the car for good.

I'm a good mile from the gym, driving along back roads in town.

For the next few minutes I twist and turn, then check the rearview mirror.

Once I feel safe and definitely not followed, I hurry my way back home.

My mind? Racing.

Whether it's my mom brain kicking into overdrive or that I've watched too many crime movies and shows, I'm scared half to death that the serial killer has gone to my house to go after Maryanne and my son.

If I call Maryanne, I'll scare her.

I'm only a few blocks from home.

I drive faster. I ignore all traffic laws. Stop signs become invisible. Speed limit signs are just numbers that mean nothing.

When I turn down my street, I slow so I don't scare anyone. Maryanne.

I park my car and see Maryanne sitting on the porch right where I left her.

I approach the house slowly even though my heart is hitting very hard inside my chest.

"Everything good?" Maryanne calls out.

"Yup," I lie.

Maryanne takes one look at me and stands up. "Hey. You look pale. You look… scared…"

"Do I?" I ask. I force a laugh. "A deer jumped out in front of me."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah. It was just… you know…"

"Yeah, that will get anyone worked up. Just be thankful you didn't hit it."

"That's what I keep telling myself," I say. "Thank you for helping."

"I didn't do a thing. I just sat here and sipped coffee. Did a little more reading up on this conspiracy about birds. I don't believe it."

"You shouldn't."

That's all I have to say to Maryanne for now.

I go into my house and lock the door.

I run upstairs and find Saxon sitting on his bed with his keyboard in front of him, working on his piano lessons.

"Nothing bad happened," he says.

"I know. It's my job to check up on you."

I take Saxon's dinner bowl off his nightstand and go downstairs.

I pour myself a big glass of wine in the hopes of calming my nerves.

Once I'm calm, it only lasts a few seconds.

Now I'm irritated. Pissed off. Annoyed.

Why?

Because of Cutter Buckley.

My life was certainly calmer before he showed up to town.

So… when the hell is he leaving for good?