Chapter 45 Parker
PARKER
“You don’t need to escort me in. I’m not going to shatter,” I say over my shoulder as Linc follows me into my bedroom, only seconds after we arrive home.
But even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie.
I’m barely holding it together, and if I’m being honest with myself, he’s the only thing stopping me from falling apart.
His touch.
That kiss.
Do not think about it, Parker.
“I know,” he says as he disappears into my bathroom.
Curious, I follow him.
My breath catches when I stop in the doorway and find him leaning over the bathtub, turning the faucet on before reaching for a bottle of bubbles and pouring some in.
Instantly, the floral scent hits my nose, and with the steam rising from the water, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to strip my clothes off right there and then and sink into it.
“Linc,” I breathe as he stands to his full height and turns to look at me.
His expression is soft, and all it does is remind me of the man he can be under all the fame and bullshit.
The man from prom night.
The man who picked me up, listened to me, gave me a shoulder to cry on.
The man who made me feel more beautiful and sexier than I ever had in my life.
The man who worshipped me and showed me how I deserve to be treated.
And then I ruined it all.
“Go and relax, Parker,” he says as he moves closer.
“What? You’re not going to try to convince me to let you join me?” I quip, trying to pull this conversation into safe territory.
I know where we’re at when we’re giving each other shit.
This right now…I have no idea how to deal with this.
I kissed him.
I caved, and I kissed him, and it was everything.
And now I want more.
Amusement crinkles his eyes. “Babe, I would love nothing more than to sink behind your naked body in that water. But I think we both know that that is the last thing you need right now. Take your time,” he instructs as he reaches out.
“Try and get everything that’s happening up here to slow down.
” His finger lightly taps my temple, and just that simple touch sends fireworks shooting through me.
This isn’t good.
This really isn’t good.
“O-Okay,” I croak although, right now, I feel like it’s an impossible task.
How am I meant to figure all this shit out in one bath?
“I’ll be right out there if you need anything,” he says before leaning forward and kissing my forehead.
My eyes flutter closed as the warmth from his kiss flows through me.
The need to lift up and claim those lips again is almost impossible to ignore, and my hands clench at my sides as I fight to stop myself from twisting my fingers in his hoodie and pulling him to me.
But before I get to decide if I want him more than I want the bath waiting for me, he’s gone, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.
He doesn’t close the door; instead, he leaves it open an inch.
Because he knows.
A sob erupts, and I slap my hand over my mouth before a sound escapes.
As much as I might want him to come back and wrap me in his arms, I know it’s not the answer.
With my thoughts spinning around my head at a million miles an hour, I slowly strip out of my clothes. The scent from my building floods my nose, and it makes my eyes burn again.
Naked, I pull the door open and throw the items into my bedroom in the hope it banishes the smell.
“Oh my god,” I moan as I step into the water. It’s a little too hot, just the way I like it.
My skin prickles and burns as I sink lower, submerging myself and disappearing beneath the bubbles.
No sooner have I stretched out and rested my head back do images of my blackened apartment return.
On some level, I think it might be easier to deal with if it had burned to the ground. At least then I’d know that everything was gone. But now…
It’s all too much.
The thought of going through everything, of sitting surrounded by that bitter scent while sorting through everything I own to see if it’s salvageable, is just too much.
I lie there lost in my own head until long after the water has gone cold. I just don’t have the energy to move.
After the traveling, the long hours with the guys, Mitchell and his constant belittling comments and irritated glances, and my life going up in smoke, I’m wrung out.
I’ve been given the most incredible opportunity, the job I’ve always dreamed of, and I’m falling apart.
I want to give it my all. The guys deserve for me to be at my best so they can do the same in return. But I’m a fucking mess, and no amount of athletic tape is going to hold me together.
Climbing from the tub is like trudging through mud. All I want to do is fall face first into my bed, close my eyes, and hope for relief.
With a towel wrapped around my body, I wash my face and brush my teeth before pulling the door open.
A gasp rips from my throat as I take in the room before me, and like the emotional mess that I am, I immediately break down.
The clothes I threw out, God knows how long ago, have gone. My sheets have been pulled back ready for me to slide in, my cell is charging on my nightstand, and there is a fresh mug of hot chocolate, fully loaded with cream and marshmallows beside it.
A laugh bubbles out of me when I step closer to the bed because there are a couple of chocolates on my pillow. But it’s not those that really steal my attention; it’s the note beneath them.
Little P
I’m right here if you need me.
For anything.
L x
Why can’t he just be the asshole that I know and love? Why does he have to show me this side of him again?
It’s not fair.
He can’t be that hot and this thoughtful and kind.
I don’t stand a chance.
I survived him once. I built my walls up and held my head high as I put what happened between us behind me, convincing myself that he was a player who would break my heart just like Seth did.
But I won’t be able to do it again.
I pull on a tank and some sleep shorts before climbing into bed and lifting the mug to my lips.
It’s hot, really hot. He’s only just been in here to deliver this.
He must have been waiting, listening for me to release the water, so he could slip in unnoticed.
The sugar hits the spot, and I swallow it all down, chewing the gooey marshmallows.
With it warming me from the inside out, I sink down, pulling the sheets up to my neck.
The apartment is silent, and I hate it. I want to hear him moving around so that I know I’m not alone. Even if I could just hear his TV, I’d know someone was there.
He is, I know he is. I believe his note. But…
A tear slips free, soaking into my pillowcase.
It’s ridiculous to feel lonely. All I have to do is pick up my cell, and I could talk to someone in seconds.
Mom and Dad, I’m not exactly sure where they are right now, but they’d drop anything to talk to me.
Casey would, too. And Rett. Hell, I could probably call some of the guys and they would answer.
But I don’t want to interrupt any of their lives with my bullshit.
Sure, I lost my apartment and my things.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing.
Everyone I love is happy and healthy, and they’re all living their best lives.
I’ve got my dream job, and I’m traveling around the country, discovering new things every week.
I shouldn’t be wallowing, but I can’t pull myself out of the slump I’ve fallen into.
The tears fall harder, the sobs that accompany them gradually growing louder, but I lose the ability to care. I figure that if I get it all out, I’ll feel better afterward, so I fully allow myself to drown.
I have no awareness of the time, only that my eyes are sore, my throat burns, and my pillow is soaked.
I pray for sleep to claim me and take me off to somewhere else, but it doesn’t come.
A miracle doesn’t happen until…
The mattress dips beside me and I gasp, opening my bleary eyes to find Linc crawling into my bed, wearing only a pair of boxers.
“Come here,” he says softly, settling on his back and slipping his arm under my shoulders to pull me to him.
Multiple questions dance on the tip of my tongue as I settle with my head on his bare chest, my arm around his waist, and my leg hooked over his.
It’s so easy. So natural. And he holds me with the kind of confidence of someone who’s been doing this for years.
His lips press against the top of my head, and he breathes me in as my own ragged breath evens out.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t press me to know why I’m crying. He just…holds me. Supports me. Gives me the relief and the comfort that I was craving but too stubborn to ask for.
Time ticks on. I have no idea if it’s still night or if we’re creeping into morning. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing does in that moment.
Only us and the connection I thought I’d managed to sever all those years ago.
“I think about it, you know,” he whispers, letting me know that he’s still with me, and apparently that his thoughts are in a very similar place.
“Think about what?” I ask, my voice hoarse from crying.
He chuckles.
“And I don’t just think about that night. I think about all of it.”
“All of what?” I ask, intrigued enough to be led down this road.
“You. Any part of my life that involves you.”
My brain misfires, and I drag my bottom lip into my mouth as I consider his words.
“B-but…you hate me.”
His body shakes with a laugh again. “I’ve never hated you, Parker. And I don’t think you ever hated me, either. You just convinced yourself you did to protect yourself.”
I push from his chest and stare down at him.
Fuck, is it a mistake.
His eyes are hooded with exhaustion. He’s got a good couple of days' stubble on his jaw, and his hair is messy. And his lips…damn, his lips are so full and kissable.
“What did you just say?” I ask, struggling to focus on the words I just heard.
“It’s not a conversation we need to have tonight,” he says softly, coaxing me back to his chest.
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because when I’m with you, I struggle to hold anything back.”
My mouth opens and closes more times than I can count with different responses to that comment. But in the end, I never decide on one.
It takes me so long, in fact, that Linc’s breathing evens out, letting me know that he’s drifted off.
I lie there listening to him, thinking about what he just said and how true it is.
So painfully true.
I walked away from what happened that night, put the biggest barrier up between us because I knew I’d end up broken.
I took every annoying trait he has and turned myself against him.
He saw it all and made it worse, seemingly enjoying the banter between us.
But I never once suspected that he knew exactly what I was doing.
That the hate I was throwing his way was nothing more than a coping mechanism because if I spent long enough convincing myself that I hated him, that everything about him was abhorrent, then maybe, just maybe, the other feeling would go away.