I'm in one piece.
I really believe I'm going to stay that way.
Maybe that's enough...
She takes her seat on the concrete bench, sets her coffee on the table, and pats the spot next to her.
I sit. Even through my jeans, the concrete is cold. But she's warm. She takes my arm and rests her head on my shoulder.
Her voice is soft, sweet. "You should be the one with your head on my shoulder."
"I like it like this." I run my fingers over her palm, reveling in the way it makes her lips twitch with need.
> "Still, I should be the one supporting you. Helping you."
"You are."
"Good." She looks up to the sky, taking in the sun, and lets out another sigh of pleasure. "It's a nice day."
It is now.
She looks up at me. "I hate to ask what you're thinking. Okay. How about you tell me, so I don't have to?"
"Think that counts as asking."
She laughs. "Technically—"
"You said 'how.' That's a question."
"Maybe."
I chuckle. "You sure you don't want to get into law?"
She nods. "Positive."
I run my fingers over her palm and up her wrist. "We were a family once. It was a long time ago, but I remember it. Remember we were happy."
"I'm sorry you don't have that now."
"Yeah." I turn so I'm looking into her eyes. "If I could erase all this, every fucking thing, I don't know that I would."
Her brows knit. "Huh?"
"Say erasing the happy times would also erase my mom using."
She nods. "Say it would."
"I don't think I'd do it."
"That would erase a lot of pain. You wouldn't have to think about it?"
"I'd have to think, yeah, but I wouldn't take anything away. I don't think she'd do it either."
Piper is staring into my eyes, following my every word.
"If erasing the last seven months talking with you was the only way to erase some shitstorm that comes ten years from now... I wouldn't do it."
"What do you mean?"