Epilogue
MASON
One Week Later
Time has never moved so slow, even counting that first week after my parents died.
Each day that goes by, the boys pull further apart, distanced in some way that feels like it’s my fault, but it’s not.
Just the anxiety, I remind myself as I thoroughly clean the kitchen for the fourth time this week.
At least Parker doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give me odd looks, he just accepts my need to clean as part of my what the fuck do I do with all these anxious thoughts in my brain process.
“I’m going to grab the last of my stuff today,” Parker says from where he leans against the kitchen doorway.
“Oh?” I ask, rubbing my chin against my shoulder.
Parker smiles sweetly. “I want to live here, and the boys will get used to it.”
“Maybe,” I murmur grumpily, unsure if Jacob will ever forgive me.
“Jacob will get over it,” Parker says as if reading my mind.
I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure?”
Parker just tucks his hands into his dress pants, showing off those epic forearms of his that I’ll always be obsessed with.
He catches me staring at said forearms and his smile grows a little more teasing, and even a little sexy.
He likes when I ogle him, even if nothing is going to come from it.
And I like ogling Parker, I like looking at him, thinking about all the things we can do one day if my brain lets me.
But it’s also nice to know that it’s not a requirement to ever do anything if I don’t want to because he loves me as I am.
Parker loves me. How odd.
I toss the wet sponge into the sink and turn around, leaning my back against the cold granite.
Parker stays where he is, patient as always, waiting to see what I’m willing to give today.
And the anxiety is high enough that I’m not willing to give anything except to look and maybe be ogled in return.
“You know,” Parker says with a teasing lilt to his voice, “maybe we should have our own signals, like what you and Reid have.”
There goes my heart.
“Yeah?” I ask, voice breaking on the word.
Parker grins like a schoolboy with his first crush.
“Yeah.” Parker tilts his head, studying me like he always does.
He lifts his hand and taps just over his heart.
“This means I wish I could hold you.” Parker trails his fingers over his chest to tap them against his throat, where his blood pounds away.
“This means I’m thinking about doing very dirty, dirty things to you.
” He slowly trails his fingers up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his finger.
“And this means I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”
Don’t cry, I tell myself. Fucking romantic asshole.
“Which one do you feel right now?”
Parker’s grin turns shy. “All three?”
“Oh fuck you!” I shout through laughter.
And that makes Parker’s grin turn even broader as he tucks his hands back into his pants. “Want to come with me to grab my stuff? Maybe you can see Reid?”
“I can’t clean anymore, so… sure. Why not?”
“That’s the spirit.”
Parker tugs on his jacket that hangs beside mine at the front door. I stare at my hoodie for a moment, the one I stole from Parker and never returned, the one that smells like him and me combined. Parker tilts his head at me as I continue to stare.
“Will you put my hoodie on for me?”
Parker’s eyebrows furrow. “Put it on you?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I touch you or…?”
I nod instead of answering with words, watching quietly as Parker gently takes the hoodie down from the hook and steps closer to me without touching.
I lift my arms up and hold back a grin when Parker delicately tugs the sleeves down my arms, then grin like a lunatic when my head pops through the neck of the hoodie.
A flush blooms across Parker’s high cheekbones as he stares at me, some emotion that I can’t parse now, but I hope maybe one day I’ll be able to.
“You’re adorable,” Parker says gruffly.
“It’s your hoodie,” I point out.
Parker sighs. “Yeah, that makes it even more adorable. Maybe tonight we can watch The Goonies again. I kind of like it now, you know. Those kids are a bit like all of us.”
I snort as I follow Parker out to the garage. “Amazing. Maybe we should watch some other movies of that decade. I think you’d really like The Breakfast Club.”
“Why?” Parker asks as he uses his epic forearms to reach out to turn on the car.
“No reason.” He will love Judd Nelson’s character. Pretty easy to call.
“If you say so, Mace.”
“I like that nickname because it’s cute, but also, isn’t that a pepper spray? I’m cute but also violent if I need to kill someone.”
“Very true,” Parker says amicably.
“You’re very agreeable today.”
“I’m preparing for Jacob’s wrath in ten minutes.”
“He won’t be mad at you,” I reassure Parker with a defeated sigh. “He’ll be mad at me.”
“It’s impossible to be mad at you.”
“Tell that to Reid,” I murmur under my breath.
The ride to the boys’ house is quiet except for the soft tones of the grunge music Parker prefers.
I’ve never been much of a music guy, but his music is really starting to work for me.
Mostly because it kind of reminds me of Parker, and I love anything that reminds me of him.
Sometimes when he’s gone to class or visiting Jacob, I’ll put on a playlist of the songs I’ve gathered over the past weeks and just think about Parker. What a lovely thing.
“Don’t let Jacob get to you,” Parker reminds me as we head into the house.
I hum absently and veer away from where Parker heads up the stairs, and instead head toward the perpetually warm living room, where it’s easy to spot Reid curled up in the chair by the fire. His sketchbook is in his hand like always, but he looks more tired than usual, his hair a little flatter.
“Still stressed out?” I ask while taking a seat on the sofa beside him.
Reid hums and scratches at the paper with his pinkie. “Would be easier if we were all under one roof.”
“Sorry, Reid, but it’s Parker’s decision.”
“I know,” Reid replies, which is a step in the right direction. No arguing means Reid’s not actually upset, perhaps he’s just sulking. “You’re here to grab the last of Parker’s stuff? Probably easier to live apart now that Robin has been MIA since Jacob got out of the slammer.”
“The slammer,” I guffaw.
Reid tosses a grin at me over his shoulder. “I’m the levity they need.”
“That you are.” I lean forward to peek at his sketchbook, but Reid hides it from me with a glare. “Just curious.”
“It’s not finished. Anyway, you know I never share my drawings.”
“You do with Dante.”
Reid blushes and stares down at his open sketchbook like I’ve caught him committing some sort of cardinal sin.
I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, I was just trying to point out that maybe Reid shares himself with Dante because he feels safe in a way he doesn’t with anyone else.
It might upset other people, but it would never upset me.
I’m more myself with Parker than I am with anyone else, and sometimes that’s the way the cards are dealt.
Parker interrupts us as he comes down the stairs with a duffel bag tossed over his shoulder.
Jacob follows behind him, a miserable, resigned look on his handsome face.
I want to say something to make it better.
To… I don’t know… apologize, but I bite my tongue because this is Parker’s battle, not mine.
“Hi, Mason,” Jacob says from behind Parker, shoulders hunched.
“Hi.” I shoot Parker a concerned look, then smile softly at Jacob. “We can do weekly dinners at my house. That way you get a break from cooking.”
Jacob only looks slightly mollified. “That sounds nice.”
“Oh my god, you’re all acting like Parker is dying,” Reid cries from his chair, slamming his sketchbook shut. “We should all be more worried about Hayden and his refusal to leave his bedroom.”
Jacob returns to looking distraught at the mention of Hayden.
“He won’t leave his bedroom?” Parker asks in confusion, because for a very perceptive guy, he’s also wildly oblivious.
Reid rolls his eyes and groans, skewering me with a you deal with that sort of look.
I just shrug and smile, because Parker is a lot of things, but he’s not oblivious when it comes to me.
Shoving up from the couch, I pause in front of Reid to tap my nose.
Reid sighs and taps his own nose, although he seems personally aggrieved by the entire situation. Where is Dante?
As if summoned by my thoughts, Dante wanders in from the kitchen with his hand buried in a bag of chips. Jacob rolls his eyes when Dante holds the bag out for him. With a shrug, Dante brings the bag back to his chest and surveys the room.
“Lots of tension,” Dante observes.
Parker sighs loudly. “I’m grabbing the last of my stuff.”
Dante winces. “Oh snap. Can I turn your room into my shoe closet?”
“Dante!” Reid screams.
Dante winces again and continues eating his chips. “I’ll let the dust settle, bro, sorry. We’re all a little antsy because there’s no missions. You don’t even have solos?”
Parker shakes his head. “Not even a peep.”
“Damn.” Dante whistles and shoves more chips into his mouth. “We are kind of screwed,” he says around a mouthful.
“Well, on that note, I am going back home.” Parker turns and slaps Jacob on the bicep. “I’ll text you tonight. Make sure you leave food at Hayden’s door, I guess. Waffles always work.”
“He left the plate outside his door all night last night,” Jacob says glumly.
Dante shrugs when I look to him for an answer.
Parker just sighs and heads back toward the front door, not even bothering with a response to Jacob.
I give everyone a wave and follow Parker out the door, hoping not to add to his stress.
The five-minute drive back to the house is silent.
Parker didn’t even turn the radio on. My anxiety ramps up a little bit, worried that maybe Parker will change his mind about me, about us, but I try to keep myself in the moment because I can’t control the future.
Burying my hands in the hoodie pockets, I follow Parker into the house, not knowing what to say to make this moment easier or better.
Everything is so fucked right now. I don’t know how to help any of them, nor do I know how to help Hayden after his perilous confession to me in the bathroom just last week.
“I’m not upset with you,” Parker says succinctly the moment he drops his duffel bag. “I don’t want your brain to think things that aren’t true. I’m tired and frustrated and I wish Jacob would let me cut the umbilical cord.”
“Oh.”
Parker smiles tiredly. “I knew you were thinking the worst.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry.” Parker takes a step closer so that I can feel his warmth, smell his delicious aftershave.
The anxiety from earlier has softened, and now all I can think about is Parker in front of me, needing comfort, needing me, and suddenly my decision to push myself is a lot easier. “Mason, I—”
I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck, putting our faces just a few inches from each other. Parker holds his breath, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“Put your arms around me, hands on the small of my back,” I tell him softly.
Parker immediately does as I said, his hands warm and firm through the hoodie.
The touch makes me move a little closer, closing that inch of space between us so that we’re pressed together toe to chest. I can feel his hummingbird heartbeat through his shirt and my hoodie, can smell the soft, warm smell of him, feel the loose hairs from his bun curling over my fingers at the nape of his neck.
“I love you,” I whisper between us.
Parker takes a quiet breath. “I love you too.”
“Everything’s going to be okay as long as we have this, right?”
“Right,” Parker agrees like the good boy he is. “You’re doing better.”
“I’m pushing myself.”
Parker closes his eyes tight. “Thank you.”
I curl my fingers in the hair at his neck, rubbing gently, petting him like a dog like he often says. The tension bleeds from his shoulders, making me smile.
“You’re my happily ever after,” I whisper, just before pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.
His lips open ever so slightly, and I can feel the soft exhalation he lets out against my lips upon hearing my words.
Touching Parker so often feels like a dream—like a sort of prayer I’m lifting up to the god of kind touch.
And all that anxiety melts away as my brain shuts off under the soft slide of his mouth against mine, the feel of his hands against my back, and the knowledge that even though everything else in the world might go to utter shit, in Parker’s arms I’ll always be the safest.
I go to pull away, but Parker murmurs, “One more touch,” against my mouth, and I can’t deny him when he asks so sweetly, even if my heart stings a little at the quietly uttered plea. All the touches in time. As long as we have this, have each other, nothing else will ever matter.
The End