18. Parker
18
PARKER
I don’t move as the door swings closed, leaving me alone. What did I do? I don’t even know why I just behaved the way I did. I just wasn’t expecting him to show up here, and I definitely wasn’t expecting him to kiss me like I was his girlfriend.
After last night, I knew things had changed, but I guess I didn’t realize they’d changed enough for him to kiss me in public like that. I don’t remember the last time I had a relationship where PDA was really a thing. The guys I’ve dated haven’t been the demonstrative type, and I think maybe that made me feel like I wasn’t either.
The way Danny kissed me was a prelude to sex, and the moment he stopped, I sort of lost it. I’m a girl mechanic, I need to give off girl-boss vibes, not ridden hard and put away wet ones.
Penn and Bay might be cool about me having a vagina, but if the clients see me being thoroughly handled by a guy, it’ll make me look weak…won’t it?
God, I don’t even know anymore. Am I making a bigger deal of this than I should be?
“Oh fuck,” I rasp aloud when I realize he just asked me if I was his again, and again, I didn’t answer. What the hell have I done?
Last night I crawled into his bed, and we had sex in a way I didn’t even know you could have sex. It was rough and dominating and all-consuming and so, so, so amazing. It’s the type of sex I’ve dreamed of but never knew actually existed in real life. It’s the type of sex that changes everything.
And now I just ruined everything by rejecting him again because my stupid mouth couldn’t find anything to say. All I had to say was yes, and I was mute like a fucking idiot.
Staring at the closed door, I contemplate going after him, but his car is gone by the time I reboot my brain enough to move. Leaving work to chase after him isn’t an option. I’ve had this job for less than a week, and relationship drama is definitely not a good enough reason to ask for time off.
Sighing, I stare down the street, then I turn around and go back to work. I’m both emotionally and physically exhausted by the time the shop shuts. It took me twice as long as normal to do anything, because all I’ve been able to think about all day was Danny.
I’ve written and deleted ten text messages because I have no idea what to even say to start to figure out what’s happening between us. Did last night change things? It did for me, and if he came here and mouth fucked me until I was ready to jump on his dick, then clearly it did for him too. So why the hell am I fighting this?
Waving goodbye to Bay and Henry, I rush to my car and peel off down the street, eager to get home and finally have the conversation Danny and I should have had over a week ago. If I’d have managed to open my mouth and tell him my concerns at the airport, we’d be together now.
The moment I pull up outside the house. I know he’s not here. For the first time since I’ve lived here, it’s dark and unwelcoming, and a shocked sob wrenches from my core. He’s not here. It’s my own fault, and I have no one to blame, but the darkness feels like a death knoll on a relationship that hasn’t even started yet.
Climbing out of my car, I unlock the front door and step into the empty house. I’ve lived alone for years, but the silence chills me in a way I haven’t experienced since I was a kid. Closing the front door behind me, I flick on the lights. “Danny?”
It’s obvious he’s not here, but I still move from room to room searching for him. Fear washes over me when I open the door to his bedroom and find it empty and totally devoid of life.
My eyes land on his bed, and memories of the night before consume my thoughts. Him lifting the sheets and inviting me in. Him pulling me beneath him and using my body like it was made to be his.
Am I his?
I have moments when it feels like I am, but I keep ruining it for myself and I don’t know why. The fear that he’ll realize I’m not enough is always present at the back of my mind, but that’s my issue, not his, and it’s stopping me from allowing myself to accept that his feelings for me are real.
Pulling out my cell, I type out a message and hit send.
Me: Where are you?
His response is immediate.
Danny: Someone had to call out sick for the night, so I’m covering before my shift starts. See you next week. Let Henry know we’ll go get his stuff once I’m off.
Me: We need to talk.
Staring at my screen, I wait for his reply, but even after the message shows as read, no reply comes. I wait for several long moments, fighting the urge to text him again or call him to demand a response, but the truth is, maybe I don’t deserve a response.
He’s asked me to be his twice, and twice I’ve rejected him. I’ve been so worried about him only being interested in me because I’m something different, but have I treated him the exact way I was worried about him treating me?
Sinking down onto the edge of his bed, I drop my head into my hands and pull at my hair. He told me he wants me. He’s shown me he wants me, and what have I done? Nothing. I’ve done nothing to show him I care. I’ve let him give me pleasure but never offered him anything in return. Even when I sucked him off, it was still because he orchestrated my pleasure first before his own.
Jesus, I’m a bitch. I truly don’t deserve him.
Danny is my best friend, and I’ve been treating him like he’s not trustworthy because I was frightened that he was too good-looking for me. What the hell is wrong with me?
This man got me a job, welcomed me into his home, cooked for me, took care of me, gave me more orgasms in the days that I’ve been here than I’d normally have in months, and then fucked me like I was the only thing he needed to survive. And what have I done? I’ve rejected him over and over.
I don’t deserve him, and it’s not because I’m not pretty enough or skinny enough. It’s because I’m an asshole.
For a minute I contemplate going to his work, but I don’t even know when the rural fire station base is. He told me it’s in the middle of nowhere, about fifteen minutes further up the mountain, but he’s never taken me there.
I consider calling him, but he’s at work, and it’s unfair of me to interrupt him when I’ve had more than enough opportunities to talk to him in the last week.
No. This is my own fault, and now I have to live with it and wait until he gets off his shift on Wednesday and hope that the days apart won’t make him realize that I’m not worth the bother.
Too worried and upset to eat, I take a shower, then crawl into bed. I’m tired, but my thoughts won’t quiet enough to sleep. I finally close my eyes around four a.m., but I’m awake again by just after six a.m.
The shop is open on weekends, but for emergencies only, which either Penn or Bay will handle, so I have two full days without Danny or anything else to distract me. Dragging myself downstairs, I make coffee, then toast a bagel and cover it in cream cheese, forcing myself to eat even though I don’t want to.
Henry and I made plans to meet up this weekend, but I text him and tell him I’m exhausted, and instead I curl up on the couch under a blanket and try to watch a movie. The sky has darkened by the time I force myself out of my pity pile and make soup for dinner.
Before I came to Montana, I’d gotten used to my quiet life, but Danny has been so present for me since I got here that being alone feels truly lonely. I don’t care that he’s not here to cook for me. It’s his comforting smile, joyful laugh, and growling dominance that I’m missing.
After I force myself to climb into my bed, sleep is impossible to find. Despite it being my normal routine, the idea of making myself come isn’t appealing, but hopefulness has me leaning over the side of the bed and pulling open the bottom drawer.
A part of me expects it to be empty, he took my toy collection and has been leaving me what he wants me to play with. But instead of a note, everything is back, the drawer full again.
For the first time, I’m heartbreakingly disappointed to see a pile of dildos and vibrators. I don’t want to pick what to use. I don’t want to play alone. I don’t want to come without him.
Until now, my self-love has just been about me, but in a week, he’s made it about us, and I don’t want to be in charge of that part of my life anymore.
Before I can stop myself, I grab my cell, take a picture of the full drawer, and send it to him.
Me: **Photo message** What should I use?
The moment I hit send, I feel sick, regret bubbling inside of me so strong that I wonder if I can delete the message. But when I look down at my screen, the message is already showing as read.
When his reply comes through, I almost drop my cell in my haste to read it.
Danny: You pick.
Me: I thought that was your job now?
Danny: Not anymore.
Me: And what if I wanted it to be your job?
My breath comes in choppy gasps as I wait for him to reply.
Danny: That’s the kind of thing I’d do for my woman, not my best friend.
Me: Can I be both?
Danny: Can you?
Me: I’m sorry.
Danny: We’ll talk when I get home.
Tears fill my eyes, and a lump of emotion fills my throat. His words shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve run so hot and cold with him; he probably thinks I’m playing with him. He could have the pick of any woman he wants, and he chose me, but instead of telling him I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember, I let my fears and worries stop me from accepting him.
I don’t text again, and neither does he.