Chapter 8 #2
“What’s for dinner?” Her question was nearly a squeak.
“Buffalo chicken with rice and coleslaw.”
“Oh.”
Why did naming a fucking meal feel like such an intimate thing right now?
Forcing myself to snap out of this, I turned and headed back to my spot at the counter. I pulled out a cutting board, then got to work prepping the chicken breasts.
“I’ll put the groceries away after I get this started,” I told her, trying to make conversation so the tension in the air would clear the fuck out.
“I can do it,” she offered. Before I could protest, I heard the clink of her can being set down, and she began shuffling things around.
The silence while the two of us got to work was deafening.
“My siblings are probably going to want to see you,” I said to fill the quiet.
“They know I’m here?”
“You saw Wyatt. The whole damn town probably knows you’re here now.
” Wyatt wasn’t a blabbermouth, but news spread fast in Bell Buckle.
He’d likely told one person, and it spread like wildfire.
I knew for certain it hadn’t been anyone from the funeral, because the topic of Parker had only been brought up after her trip to the shop today.
Once the chicken was coated in seasoning, I moved over to the stove. Parker had moved to the opposite side of the kitchen, placing boxes and other dried goods in the small pantry.
I set a pan on the stove and turned the heat to medium-high, drizzling some oil in before bringing the breasts over.
“I don’t mind seeing them,” Parker stated.
“I know. They’re just…a lot. They’ve all got their partners, so it’s, like, a family of forty now.”
Parker’s silence spoke volumes as I set the chicken in the heated pan. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to hide her for any reason.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you, is all,” I went on.
“Because I’m pregnant?”
I grabbed the tongs, needing to give my hands something to do. “No. Because they’re going to ask you a million questions, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to give them answers.”
The pantry door swung shut, and I glanced over my shoulder to find her elbows on the counter and her teeth digging into her bottom lip.
“Speaking of…” she began.
“Oh, no. Tell me, what did you manage to do in the couple of hours you were out of the house?” Parker was good at getting herself in a pickle, but she was good—usually at getting out of it, too.
“Wyatt might think the baby is yours.”
My entire body froze. If that’s what Wyatt thought, then that’s what the entire town was led to believe.
Unless he hadn’t been the one to spread the news of Parker’s arrival, then someone might have simply seen her pregnant and not thought twice.
But Bell Buckle being the town that it was, that was highly unlikely.
Everyone who was around when Parker and I were kids knew that we were destined for marriage. Though that didn’t end up happening, I wouldn’t put it past them to try and piece her reappearance together with that baby being mine.
Was that really such a bad thing, though?
The father wasn’t around, and by the sound of it, he wouldn’t be coming by at all.
I didn’t want Parker to be subject to the scrutiny single moms seemed to get.
People were so quick to judge when they didn’t know the situation, to encourage someone to stay even if the environment wasn’t healthy, all because of fucked-up values.
“Okay.” I pulled a meat thermometer from the drawer.
“Okay?” Parker repeated. “That’s it?”
I shrugged. “Is that a problem?”
“He’s not your baby.”
“He doesn’t belong to the man who stuck his dick in you and decided he wasn’t ready for a child. So, as far as anyone needs to know, he’s mine.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I think I was speechless, too. Who the fuck was I, coming in and claiming that baby as my own? In a perfect world, of course he was. But in this world? Well, I had no fucking idea what to call this.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t mind running with that narrative if you don’t.”
“We can tell them the truth, Beckham. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me and my baby.”
I set the tongs on the counter a little too hard. “Sacrifice? Parker, you already know I’d fucking die for you. You don’t think I’d do that for your baby, too?”
She straightened. “I know you would. But this is my problem, not yours.”
“You’ve always been my problem, Park. And if you think I’ve got nothing to lose, well, I’d have said you were right a few days ago. But now? I have you to lose.”
Sadness swirled in her eyes. “What does that even mean?”
I knew she meant the first part of my statement, but I ignored it. That was a story to unpack another time. But even bringing it up had a weight landing on my chest like a ton of bricks. A thick, pungent scent filled the air, and I remembered the chicken.
“Shit.” I grabbed the tongs and flipped the chicken over. The top was slightly charred, but not unsalvageable.
Parker moved from her spot. “Do you need help?”
I shook my head, turning the heat down a bit. “I’ve got it.”
She stopped in her tracks, and I met her gaze.
She probably had so many emotions warring around in that little head of hers, and here I was, making things worse.
We needed a subject change before I said shit I’d regret, like how I wished she would sleep in my bed so I could feel a little less alone on the nights I couldn’t sleep.
“I saw your profile,” I said, turning the stove fan on low.
“You did?”
I nodded. “Didn’t know you were that popular, Park. I’m a little jealous.”
Her nonresponse had me looking over to find a smile on her lips, cheeks rosy. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen it before. I figured you would’ve looked me up at some point.”
I shrugged before grabbing a pot for the rice. I was doing this all out of order, but Parker was distracting me, and honestly, I didn’t care how long it took to cook this meal. I could stand here talking to her all night. “I tried not to.”
Seeing her happy and living her life, even through a screen, would’ve hurt too much.
“I looked you up.”
I busied myself with the rice and water, measuring each. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I was just…scared to reach out. I guess? I didn’t know if you would’ve wanted that.”
I lit the burner before turning my full attention on her.
I didn’t tell her I would’ve loved to have heard from her.
I didn’t admit I thought about where she was constantly, and whether our trips would ever line up.
I didn’t mention how I looked for her everywhere I went, even knowing she could easily be hundreds of miles away.
Parker was always on my mind, and the only thing preventing me from confessing that was the fear that I wasn’t always on hers.
“I always want to hear from you, Park.”
My admission had her cheeks burning hotter. As if a light had been switched, she cleared her throat and stepped back. “I should go shower before we eat.”
“There are extra towels in the hall closet if you need them.” Lettie had forced me to have extras of everything—bedding, toilet paper, washcloths, you name it—saying I needed more on hand than just one of each thing.
She offered a small thanks before disappearing down the hall.
I stood there cooking, wondering why the fuck I still couldn’t keep my thoughts straight around her.