16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Parker
Louise giggles. “She’s very clumsy.”
I frown, watching Amy shake out her glove that’s now soaked in hot chocolate. She’s clearly not much of a skater, barely managing to keep her forward momentum, and adding the hot cocoa to the mix was not a good idea. Louise finds it amusing—but I don’t.
“So, the two of you are friends?” Louise’s voice still doesn’t pull my gaze from Amy, who’s losing her balance even more as the guy she’s skating with continues on, forcing her to keep up a too-fast pace.
Inconsiderate jerk.
“He didn’t even get her a napkin,” I mutter.
“What?”
I shake my head. “The guy she’s skating with. He didn’t even get her a napkin. He didn’t even stop when she spilled her hot chocolate.”
“Uh ... Okay. I mean, I guess that’s not, like, the nicest thing to do, but maybe she told him she didn’t need a napkin. She could just ask him to stop if she needs a break from skating.”
“She’s not gonna do that.”
“Well ... then I guess that’s on her.”
I look over to Louise, opening my mouth to argue—but stop. “Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s all good. You’re just, um, concerned about the well-being of your friend... Like really concerned. What about your sister?” She gestures to Brittany, skating arm-in-arm with some tall blond dude.
“She’s fine. She can hold her own.” I shrug. “She’s out on a rebound, anyway. Weston will show up before too long, too. He’ll keep an eye on her.” I frown. He better keep only an eye on her.
“Hmm.” Louise’s tone is filled with suspicion, and as much as I should be worried about it, I’m not. She’s not my type. But before I can say anything else, her eyes go wide, and her hands fly up to her mouth in a gasp. “Oh my gosh!”
Oh no.
I spin around to see Amy down on the ice, her hot chocolate all over her outfit, and her face contorted in pain. I don’t even bother to say anything to Louise before skating away.
As I get closer, I hear—and see—Amy’s skating partner laughing .
Anger boils in my chest as I watch Amy helplessly sitting on the ice, reaching for her ankle.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, nearly shoulder-bumping the guy she’s with—who’s still laughing.
“Dude, she’s fine. She just needs to get up and get moving, and she’ll feel better. She’s just trying to—”
“You can leave now,” I cut him off, glaring at him.
His brows furrow and he sizes me up. “Yeah? And who are you ?”
“He’s just my friend,” Amy squeaks out, her voice wavering.
“Yeah. Now go find someone else to laugh at before I—”
“ Parker ,” Amy warns, emotion palpable in her voice.
“This isn’t worth it. Good luck dealing with her,” the guy mutters, shaking his head and skating away.
I’m half tempted to pick up the smashed Styrofoam cup and throw it at him, but I know it’d be fruitless. I drop to my knees beside Amy, going for the laces on her skates. “Is it your ankle?”
She looks at me wearily and nods. “Yeah, I just ... I just lost my balance. I’m terrible at ice skating.”
I shrug, working the laces off. “Everyone falls.” Her ankle’s already swelling, and I can’t hide my concern. “There’s bruising,” I comment as I check it and then put her sock back in place. “Let me get you out of these skates and help you up. Then we’ll see if you can put any weight on it.”
I take her skates off gently, trying not to cause any more pain than necessary. As I help her stand, I notice her wince as she tries to put weight on her injured ankle .
“We need to get you to the ER. I’ll order an Uber.”
“I’m sure it’s fine...”
“It’s not fine, Amy.” I don’t want to argue with her, but it’s worth it for her well-being.
Just then, Brittany glides up. “Will you take these back?” I hold out Amy’s skates.
“Are you okay?” Brittany takes the skates from me, her eyes on Amy. “That was a hard fall.”
Amy shrugs as a rogue tear spills down her cheek. Something in my chest flips at the sight, but I push it away. I mean, no one likes to see a woman cry, right? In one swift motion, I lift Amy off the ground and cradle her in my arms.
“Wh-what are you doing? You can’t skate with me like this...” She hangs on tight, wrapping her arms around my neck like she might suffocate me. But also...
Man, she smells so good.
“It’s a lot faster this way,” I choke out, heading toward the exit.
“He’s good at this,” Brittany informs Amy, hanging out beside us. “You’re in good hands. Also, that guy you were with was a total jerk. I can’t believe he didn’t even try to help you or make sure you were okay.”
“I didn’t tell him my ankle hurt.”
“Your ankle is in bad shape,” I mutter just as Amy’s hair brushes my cheek. My body reacts in all the ways I wish it wouldn’t.
Just think about something else .
“Is that who I think it is?” Brittany’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “It’s ... Weston. ”
Well, there’s something else to think about.
I set Amy down on the bench, not missing the way her cheeks are flushed. It’s probably just embarrassment, but my heart beats a little harder as her warmth is gone. I take a seat beside her and start ripping off my skates. Brittany returns with our shoes and I drop off the bench, putting a sneaker on Amy’s good foot.
“I’ll have to carry this one.” I hold up the other shoe. I slip into my own shoes when my phone goes off with the alert. “The Uber is here. Let’s go.”
She huffs. “I don’t need to go to the ER.”
“Yeah, you do. If it’s about the money, don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.” I reach down and swoop her up into my arms again.
“Wow, you must work out a lot...” Her blue eyes meet mine as her cheeks once again fill with a crimson hue.
“You’re tiny,” I say, not letting the comment hit my ego.
“What happened?” Weston asks as soon as he makes it to us.
“She fell,” I answer, ignoring the look he’s giving me. “Keep an eye on my sister.”
He salutes me. “Sir, yes, sir.”
I roll my eyes but let it go. I have more important things to worry about—like getting Amy to the hospital to make sure she didn’t break something. I’m pretty sure it’s just a bad sprain, but the silent tears are still flowing as I place her into the backseat of the Uber. I slide in beside her .
“You’re coming with me?”
I make a weird face at her. “Uh, yeah. I’m not leaving you in this condition.” She goes quiet. I remove my scarf and hand it to her. “If you have any more hot chocolate that needs to be wiped up, you can use this.”
“I’m good, thanks,” she says timidly, her eyes shifting to the window.
And that’s how she stays the entire ride.
And during the two-hour wait in the ER waiting room.
And as we’re sitting here, in the exam room, waiting on the doctor.
I can’t freaking stand it.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask, looking up at her wearily. It’s late—really late. “You haven’t said anything since we got in the car.”
Amy looks over at me. “I don’t know ... I’m just ... embarrassed.” Her voice nearly breaks at the admission.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I say softly, reaching out and squeezing her hand. She leans back against the hospital bed, shutting her eyes. And for some reason, I don’t let go of her hand. I just sit in the incredibly uncomfortable chair like I’m frozen. And for some reason, I feel frozen. Her skin is so soft and warm, and the way her chocolate waves are a mess is ... pretty . She is pretty.
And I’m worried about her.
The knock on the door cuts any chance of conversation short and in walks the doctor, a smile on his face. “Well, the good news is, your ankle isn’t broken. ”
Amy lets out an audible sigh of relief.
“The bad news is, it’s a moderate sprain. You took a bad spill, Miss Gibson. You need to stay off that ankle for a while.” He peers at the two of us through his thick plastic glasses, his hair shimmering white beneath the lights. “I’ve gone ahead and ordered you a prescription for pain management. I’m also going to put you in a boot. We’ll get you taken care of and out of here.”
“Thank you,” Amy says, sighing.
Within twenty minutes, we’re walking out—well, Amy is limping out, using my arm as support. And I am suddenly very aware of her body leaning against me. I flag down a cab and help her in. She scoots her way to the middle of the backseat and gives the driver her address. I sit next to her, leaning back against the headrest.
“I am so tired,” she mumbles, her eyes closing as she leans her head against my shoulder.
I swallow hard, taking in the freckles that have peeked through her worn-off makeup. I bet she’s stunning without makeup.
I force my eyes away and run my hand through my hair.
What’s wrong with me tonight?
Maybe it’s the fact I knew the hospital employees assumed we were a couple—though they never asked. Maybe it’s the fact that I just want to help Amy feel better and seeing her like this tugs at my heartstrings.
I really don’t know.
But I’m too tired to keep worrying about it on the drive back or as I help her out of the cab and into the elevator .
“I can take it from here,” she says as she limps into the elevator.
But I don’t let go, stepping in with her. “We’ve come this far. Better go all the way.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. “I’m so sorry I ruined your date.” Amy’s voice is nearly inaudible as the words come out. “I bet Louise was really disappointed.”
I look down at her, but her eyes are on her boot. “You know, Amy...” She finally looks up at me—and I lock onto her gaze. “I think I’d rather spend the night in the ER than go out on another date with Louise.”
She cracks a smile. “Well, that’s kind of mean.”
“Not as mean as laughing when your date falls, sprains her ankle, and drenches herself in hot chocolate.”
Amy grimaces. “You might be right about that.”
“I know I am.” I lead her out and toward her apartment, waiting as she punches in the code.
And then I follow her in.
She eyes me as she flips on the light, revealing her tiny studio apartment. “It’s not much, I know.”
“It’s in an expensive part of town,” I say, smiling at her. “Nothing wrong with it, either.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me help you with that.” I rush toward her as she starts to work her jacket off.
She laughs. “My arms aren’t broken, Parker. ”
I glance down at her hot chocolate-stained sweater. “You might wanna change out of that.” And suddenly my mind is full of images that are completely inappropriate. Oof.
“Yeah, it’s ruined, I think,” she mutters, ripping it right up and over her head.
Holy...
I look away for a split second but then peek, halfway relieved and halfway disappointed she has on a tank top underneath.
But it’s much tighter than her sweater, showing off her curves.
She gives me a funny look. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.” I’m being weird. I clear my throat. “Can I help you at all?”
“Let me just grab some clothes and change.” Amy heads to her dresser and grabs a handful of clothes before disappearing into what I assume is the bathroom.
I take in the studio apartment with more curiosity now that the door is shut, and immediately my eyes fall on the pictures lining the shelf. Moseying over, I get a better look. A couple photos feature her with some blonde woman, who I’m going to assume is a friend. The other three are of her and her parents.
And man, they look... happy .
Swallowing hard, I feel a pang of jealousy in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t care, but still... The genuine smiles are impossible to brush off.
No wonder she’s got such a big idea of love .
Her family looks picture-perfect. She’s the spitting image of her mom, although she definitely has her dad’s nose. They look like the kind of family you’d see on TV, and as I make it to the last picture, there’s a yellow sticky note attached to it.
Be safe in the Big Apple. We’re proud of you for chasing your dreams. XO Mom and Dad.
I don’t even know what to think about it, but the longing and grief inside the pit of my stomach is as painful as it is annoying.
“You’re still here?” The surprise in Amy’s voice is enough to rip my eyes away from the note.
“Yeah. You, uh, didn’t say whether or not you needed me to help you.” I give her a half smile, taking in the sight of Amy in her red flannel pj’s with a freshly washed face and hair in a messy bun.
And I hate that I like it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she mumbles, looking past me to the pictures. “I’m kind of stuck in my head right now. I was just trying to figure out the logistics of getting to work with this.” She gestures to the boot. “It’s going to be a huge hassle.”
“Yeah ... you’ll also probably have to slow down on attending singles events.”
“Ha ha.” She narrows her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Uh...”
“You just want me to be stuck going to some jazz concert.”
Right, the bet. DUH.
“You know it,” I quip, feeling awkward. “But anyway, you need help getting in bed? ”
“I’m not broken.”
“Ah, yeah, you’re right. Just missing a few screws,” I tease, rubbing my jaw. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you get to bed, then. If you want, I can drive you to work so you don’t have to take a cab every day.”
But why am I even offering this? I’d be late to work every freaking day.
She looks perplexed. “Wait, you own a car? I thought most people in this city didn’t own cars...”
“I do. And you’re right. I don’t drive it much. But it does come in handy sometimes.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll be okay. Thanks for tonight, though. It would’ve been so hard without you.”
I nod, hung up on what to say as I follow her to the door. “Anytime.”
Amy smiles up at me, and my mind starts giving me the idea to kiss her goodbye. But I ignore it.
“Have a good night, Amy.”
“You, too, Parker.”
And as the door shuts, I let out a very heavy breath.
Maybe I just need to get some sleep—and some space.