Chapter 19 Parker
PARKER
My finger tapped an unsteady beat on the kitchen counter the next morning. I had no idea what to say to Beckham. These rules I was so adamant about were few and far between, not a single one making sense in my mind.
Why couldn’t we kiss? Because I thought that was going too far? His fingers inside of me, his tongue on my clit, was too far. And I really thought keeping our mouths apart was what would keep our minds on track?
Sure. Great plan.
Familiar footsteps sounded from down the hall, and I turned on the stool to find Beckham strolling toward me. He looked like an entirely different man this morning—no heavy eyes or strained inhales. He was…lighter. Brighter. Happier.
This was not going to be easy.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Morning,” he replied, leaning an elbow on the corner of the counter merely a foot from me. He was wearing a new pair of sweats, the shade a bit lighter, and a tight-fitting white tee. “So, these rules.”
My eyes flicked to his intoxicating biceps before I cleared my throat and straightened my back. “Right.” My fingers dug into my knees, my nerves on fucking fire. “Should we be doing this?”
“Define ‘this.’”
I narrowed my eyes on him. Of course, he was going to make me spell it out. “The messing around.” My hands made nonsensical gestures. “The touching.”
He arched a brow. “Touching, huh?”
“Beckham,” I chastised.
His shoulder lifted an inch. “It could be more than that.”
“No,” I blurted.
His eyes widened for a split second before he masked his surprise. And was that…disappointment?
“This is already a lot to try to navigate.” My palm rested on my stomach, a tiny kick bumping against me.
His gaze moved to my hand and he visibly softened. “I know. But this is between us, Parker. We can get through anything.”
“Can we?”
So many unspoken words and emotions flitted between us, it was nearly suffocating.
“So, the rules,” he repeated.
“We already established no kissing,” I started, and he nodded. “And I don’t think we should touch each other in public.”
The muscle in his neck jumped before he dipped his head in a nod. “Okay.”
“This is just messing around, right?”
He nodded again.
“I don’t think it should go further than that, then,” I said.
His forehead creased. “Further?”
“Sex. I don’t think we should have sex.”
His expression cooled, but he flexed his fingers. “Okay.”
I stared, waiting, like he might add some of his own input to this. But he remained silent.
“Do you have any rules…?”
“I’ll take what I can get of you, Park. I’m not going to add any more restrictions to that.”
Shock mixed with a world’s supply of guilt rendered me speechless. “Beckham,” I whispered, the word pained.
The spark that was there moments before faded, and he lowered his head. “It’s all good.” He met my gaze again, a small smile pasted on his lips. “Like I said, I’ll take what I can get.”
I hated this. Hated the weird in-between we seemed to be stuck in. But I couldn’t offer him more, not when us getting together meant him taking on the responsibility of my son.
“Speaking of…” I focused on my fidgeting fingers. “I think I should find somewhere else to live when the baby comes.”
His silence had me looking up. His eyes hadn’t left me, and he ran a rough hand down his mouth. “You really think that’s best?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” There was no hesitation in his answer. No reservations.
“Beckham, I’ll have a baby.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you being so nonchalant about this?”
“Because you’re acting like this is all some complex scenario that I might not be able to handle. When have I ever backed away from anything when it comes to you? When have I ever made you think I wouldn’t be there for you through everything?”
“This isn’t just me anymore,” I said quietly.
“Who else is this about then? The asshole who got you pregnant and walked away because he was scared of what his own actions caused?”
I shoved off the stool, our chests nearly touching. “All I am right now is baggage, Beckham.”
His hands cupped my neck before snaking up to my hair. He angled my head up so I had no choice but to look at him. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I batted it away. I hated how easily I cried these days. “It’s true.”
One of his hands slid out of my hair to rest on my belly. His touch warmed me from the inside out, and I wasn’t sure if it was my baby or the butterflies causing my stomach to flutter.
“This is all too much,” I quietly admitted, the words barely coming out through the tightening of my throat. “I’m not ready.”
“Yes, you are.” His thumb stroked back and forth. “When have you ever not conquered what life’s thrown at you?”
A small laugh sputtered from my lips. “This isn’t a choice between vanilla or chocolate ice cream, or whether I should ride with my spurs or without them. He’s an entire human.” My gaze fell to my stomach and Beckham’s hand resting on it. His fingers tightened in my hair. “What if I mess him up?”
A shake of his head had me lifting mine. “You won’t.”
“And if I do?”
“Then we’ll fix it.”
His answer was so sure, as if he wasn’t at all freaking out about the fact that I was supposed to push this baby out of me in a few months, come home, and raise him. I focused on that fact, and not how he’d used the word we.
“I don’t even have a permanent place to raise him,” I admitted, shame coating the statement.
“Yes, you do.”
The finality in his tone had me meeting his gaze again. “You have answers for everything, don’t you?”
A heavy breath left his lips. “I try, Parker.”
My hand cupped his cheek. “I know.” I edged closer to be sure he was really hearing me when I said, “I appreciate you.”
Seconds passed before, finally, he dipped his chin. His eyes darted to my mouth and then he stepped away from me. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. He can feel it.”
My lashes fluttered as his words processed. It felt like I’d been hit with a hundred-mile-per-hour wind and spun upside down. “You’ve been reading baby books, haven’t you?”
His cheeks flushed. “If the internet counts as books, sure.”
My lips twitched with all the words I wanted to say but shouldn’t. “You don’t have to do research for me…”
A crease formed in the center of his forehead. “I’ll always take care of you, Parker. You know that.”
“I know.” And that was why this was so hard.
Because the longer I stayed here, pregnant and alone, the more he’d help.
The further involved he’d get. The harder it’d be to walk away when this game of pretend was all said and done.
I’d been here for weeks, and we still hadn’t talked about before—when the two of us parted and we thought we were done for good.
Was it too much to bring up?
Would we implode and truly be ruined forever if we did?
Our past held so much of us together, and it was too much to think of right now.
Too heavy a topic when I already couldn’t handle the reality at hand.
I was barely holding myself together with a frayed string and dwindling strength.
All I heard growing up was how strong other mothers were.
How they sacrificed for their family. Letting my emotions get in the way would only show how weak I really was, and if there was anything I wanted this baby to know, it was that his mother would always be there to face any storm.
So I took a deep breath. Ran my hands over my clothes. And set my shoulders back. “We have to get to work.”
For the past four hours, Beckham has made excuse after excuse on things he needed from the office.
A pen. A notepad. Water. Erasers—at least three of those now.
He came in four times asking me to reconfirm what they needed to work on with the old Dodge Charger sitting in the garage.
As if brake pads and an oil change were that hard to remember.
At this point, I nearly expected it was him every time that door opened, so when the hinges squeaked for what had to be the twentieth time today, I grumbled, “What is it this time?”
“Bad day?”
Wyatt’s voice had me snapping my head up from the paperwork laid out in front of me.
“Shit. Sorry. I thought you were—” I shook my head. He didn’t need to know I was being snarky with Beckham. Sure, he probably noticed his multiple disappearances, but the last thing I needed was for our drama to be the talk of the town.
“Trouble in paradise?” Wyatt wiped his grease-stained hands on a dirty rag before plopping into the chair across from me.
I set the pen down. “Everything’s dandy.”
He sucked in air through his teeth. “See, I know women. Got a lot of ‘em that come in here with car problems and pretend it ain’t pissin’ ‘em off. That right there”—he aimed a finger my way—“ain’t dandy.”
I reclined in the chair with a sigh. “And what? You want me to confess all my car problems”—I used air quotes around the phrase—“to you?”
He held his hands out in a duh gesture. “Hit me with it.”
I shook my head at how ridiculous he was being. I was sure the last thing he wanted to hear about was girl problems. “How about, instead of that, we discuss maternity leave.”
“What’s there to discuss?”
“Well, I’m going to save up as much PTO as I can for after the baby comes, since I’m sure I won’t qualify for the full maternity leave with my short employment here and all. I’ll have childcare by the time it runs out so you won’t have to worry about a baby crying in your lobby.”
He frowned, narrowed his eyes. In a blink, his entire demeanor had changed. “You really think I’d make you give up time with your newborn to come file paperwork?”
I blinked, his question taking me off guard. “Well, I need money—”
He held up a hand. “You’re going to be a mom, Parker. Fuck the job. It’ll be here if you want it back, but not until you’re ready.” He leaned forward in his chair, rag gripped in a fist. “No fucking way am I going to make you miss out on those moments.”
My heart pinched. “But Wyatt, the money—”
“Whatdya need money for? Ain’t no one in Bell Buckle gonna let you be homeless, especially not that lovesick puppy currently listening through the damn door.”
Something metal clanged to the ground just outside the door, confirming Wyatt’s suspicions.
“I can’t just mooch off everyone,” I stated. “I need a stable income to care for my baby.”
“So I’ll pay you while you’re on leave.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but he beat me to it. “It’s standard. You get a portion of your pay while on maternity leave. No fucking law, rule, or policy is going to tell me how much that portion is, so consider all of it yours.”
Clearly my pregnancy was taking a toll on my brain, because what he was saying couldn’t seriously be true.
“For how long?” I managed to get out.
“How long you need it?”
Slowly, I sat forward, hands braced on the armrests. “Wyatt.”
He simply stared, like this wasn’t the most ridiculous idea ever.
“People go through hard things. Wreck your car, forget to pay a bill, have to move houses. But no one should have to hold the load of raising a baby all on their own. My dad did it for me and my brother. Did a shitty job at it, but he did it. I only ever wished someone would’ve given him a damn break in life, so maybe he would’ve given us a break, too.
” He stood, pocketing the rag. “You stay home with your baby. Raise him to be the best little man he can be. I’ll do you this favor, if you do that for me. ”
Wetness pooled in my eyes as words escaped me. He waited, giving me a moment to compose my thoughts.
“I will.”
Satisfied, he dipped his chin in farewell.
When his hand grasped the door handle, I added, “But only for six months. I won’t take any more than that.”
He looked back at me, and the hardened, dirt-smudged man smiled. “Deal.”