Broken & Torn (Emerald Falls #1)

10. 10

10

PARKER

T hat morning had gone better than I’d hoped for. Lyla seemed genuinely happy to form a friendship with me and has been buzzing around the store cleaning and asking me questions. By the end of the week, Lyla knows more about me than most people do. She’s been asking me questions relentlessly, but I don’t mind. The fact that she’s willing to forgive my behavior is enough to help me get through the line of questioning. We’ve talked about our favorite books and authors, our taste in music and our artistic passions. I finally learned that Lyla loves to draw and occasionally she paints, though she insists she isn’t nearly as talented at that.

Her favorite indie alternative musician is Matt Maeson and we’ve been playing some of his catalog during our shifts. I hadn’t heard of him before but I had to agree that he’s the bees knees—her words, not mine. She also decided that we were forming a book club, just the two of us. Once every two weeks, we would pick a book for the other to read and exchange thoughts once we finished. Her first pick for me is Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas, and my pick is Mort by Terry Pratchett. I told her it was some of the only fantasy I had read before and I thought she would enjoy his unique take on the genre.

“I’m really liking the book so far!” she shouts at me as I enter the shop. “It has a great mix of plot and absurdity and I love Mort. His character is so endearing!”

I chuckle and make my way over to her as she continues to stock shelves.

“Just you wait,” I say ominously.

“What are do you think of Throne of Glass so far?”

“I’m liking it a lot more than I thought it would. I like the politics and the competition is really intense. The way she writes is like a melody. It flows while I’m reading it and I can picture everything in my head as I absorb the words.”

“Right?” she squeals. “I am so obsessed with her writing style and her ability to paint a picture.”

I nod, taking a gulp of my coffee and before handing the other cup to her. She immediately grasps it and groans as she takes her first sip.

“Damn, I needed this today. Thanks, old man.”

I narrow my eyes at her as she giggles behind her coffee cup. She knows I hate it when she calls me that. Once she found out I’m nine years older than her, the jokes followed.

“Stop calling me an old man. I’m young and spry, just like you.”

She snorts and covers her mouth. Lyla only snorts when she finds something really funny.

Rude.

The day had been busy and Lyla and I barely had a chance to talk. Just as it’s approaching five o’clock, the store is finally empty and we’ve finished our cleaning for the day before Cassie comes to relieve us.

The door chimes and the woman in question comes through the door.

“Lyla, did you ask him? Hiya, Parker!”

Lyla looks at me bashfully before turning her head towards Cassie and replying, “No, sorry. We were really busy today so I didn’t have a chance to bring it up.”

“Bring up what?” My stomach flip-flops with anxiety.

“To join our girls’ night tomorrow. And before you say no, you’re not allowed to decline. You owe Lyla a fun night after being such a grump.”

Cassie flashes me a cheeky smile and makes her way to the back, leaving me alone with Lyla.

“I guess I kind of deserve that, don’t I?”

Her mouth slowly lifts into a shy smile as she says, “Yeah, you do.”

It’s Saturday night and I’m standing at the entrance of the store holding a plate of spinach dip and a grocery bag filled with pita chips. I take a deep breath and walk through the door. My sister is there behind the register reading her latest small town romance book. Her head lifts when she hears the bell and she beams at me knowingly.

“I heard you got roped into a girls’ night. What I would pay to see that.” She cackles.

“Shut up, Peyton.” I say with no bite, “I owe her and this is my punishment.”

I make my way to the back set of stairs leading up to their apartment as I hear my sister yell, “Have fun!” I groan.

I get to the top of the stairs and knock on the door, and Cassie answers the door wearing a onesie that has a kangaroo pouch and ears. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

“Hey there, boss man. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” I say as I enter the apartment. I haven’t seen it since it was renovated so I walk around and peruse the space until one of the bedroom doors opens and out walks Lyla in a —

A pink bunny onesie.

I burst out laughing .

“What’s with the costumes, ladies?”

“Please tell him.” Cassie barely gets out over a fit of giggles.

Lyla looks deviously into my eyes and I swear I can see the devil on her shoulder, fueling her. She makes her way over to a bag on the other side of the living space and waltzes back over, handing it to me.

“There’s one for you, too.”

Fuck me.

I go into the kitchen to place the food on the counter and come back to a fucking frog onesie in my face.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“You said green was your favorite color.”

I look up towards the ceiling, mutter a string of curses, and grab the frog onesie from her hands. I change in the bathroom and as I come out, there’s a fit of obnoxious laughter. I even put the hood up so that I have a frog head.

“I hope you’re happy now.”

Lyla wipes at her eyes and says between laughter, “Yes, very.”

Once I’m comfortable in the frog onesie, we set out the food. Lyla made bacon wrapped scallops and Cassie made stuffed mushrooms. It’s a good spread and we spend the night watching A Walk to Remember and The Notebook , while drinking red wine. They were intentionally playing up girls’ night, which they fully admit when they bring out the face masks. But I don’t complain the whole night because Lyla looks happier than I have ever seen her. She and Cassie clearly have become good friends and already have inside jokes.

One of them being dishes duty.

When the topic comes up, they frantically go to touch their pointer fingers to their noses. Cassie is slower, much to Lyla’s delight, which leaves us alone in the living room. She sighs wistfully as we watch the ending of The Fault In Our Stars .

“Have you ever experienced a great love? Something that could be out of a movie?”

I contemplate for a moment while I sip my red wine. I don’t know how long we sit in silence, but Lyla doesn’t rush me.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

She chews on her lip and asks, “Not even with Annie?”

We hadn’t spoken of Annie other than her informing me that she heard about what happened. She assured me she wouldn’t pry but I guess curiosity and liquid courage are changing her tune.

I sigh, “Not even with her, honestly. I thought it was love and I was so lost in the feeling that I didn’t stop to wonder if we wanted the same things or if we were truly compatible. We weren’t.”

She nods in understanding so I ask, “What about you? Have you had a great love?”

It’s her turn to mull over my words and figure out how to answer. She takes a few sips of wine and stares outside at the mountain ranges, lost in thought.

Finally, “No. I’ve never let anyone close enough to be in love with them.”

That doesn’t shock me. I can tell that Lyla has trouble getting close to people and that she’s still figuring out how to be comfortable with it since my dad has practically adopted her and Cassie is clearly a fan as well. But to hear her confirm it is something else altogether. My dad’s words ring through my head.

“You have no idea what that girl has been through.”

I scoot closer to her and grasp her small hand in mine. Her eyes go from the window to mine and she sucks in a breath. I clear the lump that’s forming in my throat.

“You can always talk to me about it.” I don’t say what but I think she knows based on the tears that well in her eyes. Her irises are the color of jade when she’s sad, instead of the wild olive green they usually are.

“Thank you, Parker,” she whispers.

At that moment, Cassie turns off the water in the kitchen sink and makes her way out to the living room. We drop each other’s hands like hot coals.

“So, who’s down for a game of Twister?”