Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
PARKER
Parker
Thank y’all for the food!
Ciara
Of course. There’s nothing like having a home-cooked meal you didn’t have to make yourself when you’re under the weather.
Parker
Of course now Pippa’s gone and gotten me addicted to her cheese.
Pippa
And so you’ve been introduced to my nefarious plan.
Parker
Devious. Skye, your chicken and dumplings were incredible.
Skye
Thank my mama for that one. It’s her recipe. It was nice to have an excuse to make some.
Saoirse
I feel bad for not contributing.
Parker
Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the reason I have Falkor, who is a godsend.
Saoirse
I’m good for the alcohol when you’re feeling up to a night at the pub.
Parker
Soon!
I’d more or less recovered from my flare, so I might could’ve done it tonight, but I decided I’d best not push it. I’d been especially fortunate that I hadn’t had many since coming to Scotland. I knew it was just a matter of time, because they were never too far from the norm. Rest and routine were paramount, and I’d mostly managed both thanks to the girls. I knew I’d have more challenges later in the year, once winter was on the way, but I had time to figure it out.
Until this morning, Callum had played chauffeur every day, driving me to and from work, and even helping me with groceries. He was unquestionably looking out for me, taking care of me. But it was different from how I’d been taken care of most of my life. My parents always wanted to coddle me. Callum didn’t do that. He was brusque and direct, asking what I needed. If I said no, that I’d do the thing, he let me do it, even if that meant I struggled. So when I’d said I wanted to walk today, he hadn’t argued.
I knew that was hard for him. I certainly felt the same way around him. I’d kind of missed that brief stretch of alone time with him, though. Not that we usually did much talking in the car, but it was just nice to kind of exist in the same small space. The office wasn’t the same.
We were nearing the end of the day. Alex and Finn were off with clients. Callum had rearranged most of his schedule this week to be here for me. Something that would change starting next week, but I appreciated the effort. I knew since he’d stayed in the office it meant he’d begun tackling a lot of things on the computer that he’d usually avoid or hand off. Knowing the toll that usually took, I snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and a bottle of headache meds, and walked back to his office.
A couple of weeks ago, I’d had Alex install a dimmer switch and change out the lighting. Callum had taken advantage of that today. He sat behind his desk, lit mostly by the glow of the monitor. I could see the lines of strain around his eyes and the furrow between his brows. Circling around to his side of the desk, I put the bottles directly in his line of sight.
He frowned at them, then up at me. “How did you know?”
I shrugged and leaned back against his desk. I wasn’t leaving until he took the meds. “I understand pain. I recognize it when I see it.”
He studied me for a long moment before palming two pills and tossing them back with water. Satisfied, I could have left him to it, but something kept me glued to the spot. Maybe that intent gaze he fixed on me.
“I’ve heard of fibromyalgia, but I don’t really know what it is.”
I’d opened this door. The least I could do was explain. “It’s a chronic condition that causes pain and tenderness throughout the body, along with a fun array of other symptoms. There are conflicting theories about where it comes from. The one that makes the most sense to me is that it’s a symptom in and of itself. Like a fever. Lots of things can cause it, which accounts for a lot of the variability in people’s experiences.”
“You said you were diagnosed in high school?”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah. I was in a really bad car accident my sophomore year, and the recovery went poorly. Physically, I recovered in the sense that I got muscle control back and regained strength and that sort of thing. But the pain receptors effectively got turned on and never turned off again.”
He frowned at that. “So you’re in pain all the time?”
I shrugged again. “To some extent, yeah. Most of the time it’s like white noise. I can tune it out. But sometimes the volume gets pumped up, as it were.”
There was no mistaking the flash of sympathy, but he didn’t offer false platitudes. “I would never have known.”
I smiled a little. “Well, that’s part of the point. I don’t want people to know, because no one ever knows how to react. There’s always either the pity that I don’t want or a lack of understanding because I don’t have some visible mark that shows that I have a limitation. There have been periods of my life when I was more open about it, but because I don’t look ‘sick’, some assume I’m faking or exaggerating. Or they just assume I’m exactly like them and fine, which I vastly prefer to the alternatives.”
He considered that, frowning. “I think I’d prefer that. Having something no one could see.”
Oh, this man tugged at my heartstrings. Did he even realize how much shame he carried around his condition? “I get that. I get you. That’s why I don’t get irritated when you get snappish or frustrated. I understand what that headspace is like.”
He shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable.
“Callum, I don’t need you to talk about it. I don’t need you to tell me what happened. I just want you to know that I get that it’s hard, and that when I do stuff like this,” I pointed to the meds, “I’m just trying to make it easier for you.”
His gaze met mine, unflinching. “You have.” His voice was a rasp that stroked over my skin like a cat’s tongue, making me shiver.
He reached out, tentatively covering my hand with his. “Is this okay?”
Tingles raced up my arm from where he touched me, along with a cacophony of physical reactions that struck me so hard, the last thing I was feeling was pain. He was making a connection, and I wasn’t about to stop him. I turned my hand up to clasp his. “More than.”
Gaze still on mine, he rose from the chair, moving to stand in front of me where I still leaned against the desk. He was so much taller, it should have felt threatening to have him looming there, but in the dim room it only felt close. Intimate. Vital.
“This is a terrible idea.”
He rumbled the words, releasing my hand, only to grip the desk on either side of my hips instead, caging me in. But I didn’t feel trapped. No, my heart was pounding for entirely different reasons.
“Why is it a terrible idea?” I whispered.
He searched my face, his own twisting as he wrestled with something. His honor maybe. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
By now, I understood him well enough to know that he meant that on multiple levels. Because that was a big part of why he didn’t people. He acted as if he didn’t like them, when really, he worried about how he affected them.
He wasn’t wrong. This was an absolutely terrible idea. And still I reached between us, giving into the urge to frame his face. The scruff on his cheeks was a delicious rasp against my palms. I stroked my thumb along the ridge of his cheek, feeling the bump of scar tissue as I passed over.
“I’m no stranger to a little pain. That doesn’t make it not worth it.”
Straightening, I closed some of the distance between us, until I could feel the warmth of his breath. I was terrified of putting myself out here like this, but I also couldn’t… not. There was something between us, and if he was willing, I wanted to see what it was.
For a small eternity, he only stood there, breathing, and I was certain he was trying to devise some kind of way to let me down. Then his hands ghosted over my cheeks, combing into my hair, and he found my lips with his.
Oh God.
I shuddered at the contact, because this kiss was nothing like I’d imagined. It was soft and sweet in a way I never would have dreamed from a man as ostensibly hard as him. He was so careful, so patient. Not in a way that made me feel breakable. It felt like reverence. And that was an incredibly potent drug. I sank into the taste of him, heady and dark, such a contrast to those feather-light hands. I wanted to drown in it. In him. Because he’d effectively wiped away everything else.
As gently as it had begun, Callum eased back. Not far. Just far enough that we could breathe. And that’s all we did for what felt like long minutes, neither of us making a move to release the other.
I was the one who finally had to break the silence. “Well, that’s a thing that happened.”
“Aye.” He pulled back far enough he could look into my face. “Do you regret it?”
The thunder of his heart beneath my palms gave me courage. “Only if we never do it again.” Ill advised? Maybe. But it was the God’s honest truth.
His face underwent a miraculous transformation, softening in a way I’d never seen before. With one hand, he stroked my hair back from my face. “I wasn’t looking for this. I wasn’t looking for you. But here you are, anyway.”
“I wasn’t looking for you or this, either. But here we are.”
“I dinna know that I can go back to resisting you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to.”
His lips curved in the first true smile I thought I’d ever seen from him. The dim light caught the planes of his face, softening the usual harsh lines, and my breath caught. God, that smile should be registered as a lethal weapon. His hand slid to cup my cheek, and I turned into the touch, the warm strength of his hold soaking into me in a way that made me want to feel those work-roughened fingers everywhere.
“You know what you are, Parker Lawrence?”
“What’s that?”
“Trouble.”
I grinned. “Somehow, I think you’re just the man to handle it.”