—TWENTY-FOUR—
I’m not sure what to expect when we pull into the long, gravel driveway after a silent trip over from the bar, but a charming, ranch-style house with ruddy bricks, dark gray shutters, and simple yet effective landscaping is a pleasant surprise. Even though the sun has set, a light shines ambience onto the quaint front porch as my eyes roll over the large property.
There’s a carport to the right, housing what looks to be pieces of furniture in progress, as well as a separate one-car garage. The yard is well maintained despite a scattering of tools, and the home is quiet and secluded, settled far back beyond the main stretch of road. A little oasis.
My feet crunch atop the gravel as I hop out of Parker’s truck and meet him around the front of the hood, hardly able to make out his expression against the shadowy night. The silence stretches from inside the vehicle to the space between us, and while the air is dense and muggy, the tension between us is thicker.
Jitters coast through me, dancing along my skin and tickling my insides. A subtle glow from the moon and stars above illuminate two dithering green eyes boring into me.
I swallow. “Your house looks nice.”
Parker slides his hands into his pockets, glancing towards the house, then back to me. “I built it.”
I feel my breath catch as his words register. “You did?”
His mute nod is barely visible as his eyes skim my face.
“That’s…” The humidity almost chokes me, or maybe that’s my heart in my throat. I can’t help a smile from breaking through my nerves when the thought of Parker building his home from the ground up assaults me like a bear hug. “That’s really remarkable.”
“It was something to do at the time, I guess.” He dismisses the exceptionality of such a feat with a sniff and shuffles past me towards the front of the house. When I continue to stand there, a little bit slack-jawed, he pauses to inquire, “You coming?”
Am I?
My head turns to face him, lip caught between my teeth. He’s nothing but a tall shadow beckoning me further into the unknown.
He brought me here for sex. I knew that when I got into his truck, ditching my date for the evening like a total jerk and frantically sending Leah a text of apology, begging her to tell Shane and my brother that I wasn’t feeling well and decided to head home early.
Yeah, right. There’s no way they’re going to believe that after I walked out of the bar with Parker, who left no mystery as to what his intentions were.
Leah texted me back almost instantly:
Leah: GET IT GIRL! I got your back. *a dozen eggplant emojis*
A sigh escapes me, another smile lifting, and I nod my acquiescence, trailing behind him as he resumes his trek to the front door. Following him inside the darkened house, Parker flips a light on when we enter, and I notice movement out of the corner of my eye.
My head shifts to the right.
A dog.
Blinking, I stare at the animal just standing there a few feet away on wobbly legs. “You have a dog?”
“Yeah. That’s Walden.” Parker tosses his keys and wallet on the side table, then scratches at the base of his neck, stepping forward and following my gaze. “He kind of just sulks around all day and keeps to himself.”
“Like you.”
Glancing at Parker, I don’t miss the twitch of his mouth as he tries to hold back a smile. He ducks his head to hide it, shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose there’s a likeness.”
My grin is bright as I look back over to the black and white dog with patchy fur and cloudy, bugged-out eyes. He watches us with interest, although, his tail doesn’t wag, and he doesn’t bark. He just observes. “He’s really cute.”
“He’s fucking ancient.”
“But cute,” I chuckle, approaching the mutt that looks to be some kind of Border Collie mix. The dog’s attention follows me as I close in, crouching down and gliding my fingers between his ears. “You look like a good boy.”
Charlie and I had been thinking about getting a dog. We both worked long hours at the time, so it didn’t seem fair to adopt a pet when we wouldn’t be home very often, but the companionship had always been something I craved. I considered it again after Charlie passed, but then my grief became my companion—and that wasn’t fair either.
There was too much competition.
But now… now might be a good time to consider it again.
Walden doesn’t do much but sniff my outstretched fingers, but I can tell he’s a sweet soul. A loyal friend.
As I rise to my feet, I notice Parker staring at me from the entryway, taking in the scene. I smile at him. “You didn’t strike me as a dog person,” I admit, sweeping a hand through my hair and moving towards him.
“Because I’m such a people person?”
His response pulls another laugh from my lips as I inch my way closer. Parker’s stance seems to stiffen when I’m only a foot away, and I wonder why that is. I wonder why he’s so closed-off and resistant to physical contact, to true intimacy.
Stretching my smile, I reach out to take his hand, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. He glances down at the gesture, frowning, and I feel him try to pull back, so I strengthen my hold. “Can I get a tour?”
“What?” he wonders distractedly, still staring at our joined hands.
“Of your house.”
Parker finally lifts his gaze to mine, brows furrowed together like he’s conflicted or in pain, and then he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah… I guess. Not much to see.”
I release his hand, watching as he tenses his fingers, splaying them apart, then making a fist. “Lead the way.”
Hesitation grips him as he glances around the room, avoiding my eyes. A sigh of resignation follows, and he points behind me. “Living room.” His thumb flicks over his shoulder. “Kitchen.” A beat passes, and he gestures to his right. “Small ass hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. There’s a linen closet somewhere along the way.”
“Wow.” My grin broadens as I crinkle my nose. “Very descriptive.”
That little ghost of a half-smile reappears, spiking my heartrate. I would do anything to freeze the moment, so it never, ever faded.
Pulling my focus off of Parker, I wring my hands together and dip around him, sauntering into the kitchen. Curiosity claims me as my eyes peruse the modest space, clean but cluttered. My fingertips dance along the laminate top of the island while my feet wind around it, taking it all in.
This is Parker’s life. His space. His home.
I’m realizing that I know absolutely nothing about this man—this man I gave something of value to. This man who I’m inherently drawn to for reasons I can’t even begin to understand.
There’s not much personality or charm given to the space. No knick-knacks lining the counters, no birthday cards or photographs stuck to the white refrigerator, no color pops or decorations. There’s nothing on his walls either. No canvas prints or family pictures.
It’s sterile. Lonely, even.
Does he have any friends? Close family members?
Is he truly all alone?
The idea grips my heart in a tight fist as I continue to scan over the assortment of cereal boxes, a wooden spice rack, stacks of mail…
And a little pink Post-it note stuck to the side of the fridge, wrinkled and creased. Familiar handwriting stares back at me, sending a tremor through me.
“I think you saved my life that night.”
It’s the only personal sentiment sprinkled into his otherwise very basic living space.
When my eyes find Parker watching me from the same place I left him, a burst of emotion climbs up my chest and causes my eyes to water. “You saved my note,” I murmur in a low, broken voice. I had attached this note to his cupcakes after that night in the rain when I had my breakthrough.
I’m not okay, but I’m not ready to give up that one day I will be.
He’d told me he hadn’t even read the note.
Parker’s expression is minted with vulnerability as he stares at me, a little uncomfortable, like he hadn’t expected me to see that. His jaw ticks while his eyes skim over me, then his gaze drops to the floor. Everything about him is rigid and hard.
Everything except that look on his face.
I approach him with slow steps and a swiftly beating heart, closing the gap between us and reaching for his hand again. It’s clenched tight, only loosening slightly when I give it a gentle squeeze. When Parker glances back up at me, I don’t say anything. I simply give his hand a tug and guide him towards the hallway, my insides buzzing when he doesn’t pull away. He follows my lead.
I’m not sure where I’m going, but as I inspect the limited selection of rooms and note that only one of them adorns a bed, I push through the cracked door and step inside, drawing Parker with me.
Nerves seize me when my eyes land on the queen-sized bed, shrouded in the shadows of the dimly lit room. A nightlight on the wall provides a minimal glow, enough to drink in the sparce and uncolored space. White walls, gray bed covers, a little wooden nightstand with a lamp. A dresser on the opposite wall. A laundry basket partially filled with t-shirts and jeans.
And that’s everything. That’s the extent of his bedroom.
Turning to face him, I let go of his hand and pace a few steps backwards, until I reach the foot of the bed. Parker lingers just in front of the doorway, still stiff. Still strained. His gaze flickers with conflict as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, eyes spearing me from a few feet away.
Gathering my courage, shaky fingers lift from my side and carefully slip the straps off of each shoulder. He watches me, drinking me in from the shadows with guarded interest, his eyes dipping when the dress slides down, revealing my black lace bra. I tug it further, exposing my ribs, my abdomen, my matching underwear, and then it glides down my legs into a halo of red at my feet. Parker follows its descent, then drags his sights back up my nerve-wracked body, settling on my wide, terrified eyes.
I hold out my hand, encouraging him towards me.
I need him closer. I need to feel him.
His fingers tap along the side of his thigh as his head jerks away from me, a hard sigh escaping. “Fuck, Melody… I told you I’m no good at this.”
A frown furrows as I lower my hand. “I’m not either. You’re the only one I’ve done this with aside from…” I swallow, pursing my lips. “You’re the only one.”
Parker’s attention stays fixed to the other side of the room, his stance restless, prepared to bolt at the slightest threat. Pacing towards him, my movements are cautious and controlled—as if I’m that threat.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper when I approach, taking his tense hands in mine and guiding them to my hips. His fingers unravel and cling to me, digging into my hipbones with something akin to desperation. He’s fighting something I don’t understand. “Parker, look at me.”
It takes a moment before his neck cranes toward me, green eyes glinting from the subtle glow of the nightlight. He heaves in a rattled breath, holding me tighter. “This won’t work, Melody. It can’t.”
No, don’t do this. Not now.
I grind my teeth together and duck my head. Pushing aside the sting, I collect my wits and try to read him instead. I try to wind my way through this endless maze that is Parker Denison and locate the source of his block. His deep-seated resistance. “Tell me why it won’t work,” I prompt softly. Gently. “Please, talk to me.”
“Because…” Parker’s fingers uncurl from my waist, then skim down my body until his arms fall loose on either side of him. “Because I’ll never be him… and you’ll always be her.”
My brows pull together, my heart stuttering.
Him is Charlie.
But who is… her?
I refuse to give in to the frustration of his push and pull, his indecision. I choke back the anger that bubbles to the surface. I won’t allow the prickle of rejection to consume me and drive another wedge between us.
I know he wants this. I know he has feelings for me.
So, I run with that.
I run with what I know because it’s the only way to understand the things I don’t.
“You want to know what’s on the other side of grief and pain?”
My question causes a trace of curiosity to flicker across his face. Parker sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Fuckin’ rainbows and butterflies, right? All that shit therapists shove down your throat to keep your head above water.”
I pin my eyes on his, punctuating each word like shrapnel to his skin. “What you put there.”
A heavy silence fills the space between us, and I watch carefully as a frown draws across his brow line, pensive and wistful. He blinks, processing my response and swallowing down the remnants of it.
I don’t wait for his reply because I’m not looking for one—instead, I step backwards and slowly spin around to collect my discarded dress, stepping into it and pulling the straps back up over my shoulders. Straightening where I stand, I face him once more, noting that his thoughtful expression still stares back at me. I smile. “Let’s go watch a movie.”
As it turns out, Parker doesn’t have cable.
Or Netflix. Or Hulu. Or Amazon.
I’m actually not even sure why he has a television. It’s cased in a thick layer of dust, a telltale sign that he never uses it.
Settling beside him on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, I maintain a small distance between us, allowing him time to return from the dark place he entered in his bedroom. The room is dim, with only two working bulbs on his ceiling fan illuminating us in tungsten.
Parker glances at me, hands gripping his spread knees. “Popcorn doesn’t go well with invisible movies.”
I pop a kernel into my mouth with a grin. “We can talk instead.”
“I don’t go well with talking.”
My smile widens as I pull my legs up to the sofa cushion, my knees grazing the side of his thigh. “You have a sense of humor behind all that grouch. You kind of remind me of…” I trail off, realizing he reminds me of… Zephyr.
Sort of. Sometimes.
The dry sense of humor and occasional quick wit.
But Zephyr doesn’t exist to me anymore. He took one look at me and disappeared, leaving me questioning everything we had, everything we shared. Every joke, every pun, every sage word of advice.
I know I’m not completely monstrous to look at, so I have no idea what transpired that night. Part of me regrets taking it to video—he was right in the sense that everything was perfect the way it was. I must’ve ruined the illusion for him.
Still, it doesn’t justify him ghosting me like that.
It was hurtful.
“Who do I remind you of?”
I blink at Parker’s words, returning from my dreary musings and setting the bowl of popcorn on the side table. “Just… someone I used to talk to. It’s nobody.”
“Nobody?”
“He was…” Swallowing, I debate how much I should confess to him, but I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. “He was kind of a pen pal. He, um… he was the recipient of my husband’s heart. I reached out during a particularly rough time in the grieving process, and he replied to me. We had a connection.”
Parker studies me, expressionless. “Is that important to you?”
“What? The connection?”
“The heart.”
I hesitate, my eyes dancing away from his.
Is it?
I mean, it was. For a while, it was everything. Zephyr and his heart were my final tie to Charlie—the last tangible piece of the man I loved with my whole heart.
I suppose it still is.
Important, anyway.
But it’s not everything.
“Yes,” I answer honestly, drawing my eyes back to Parker. The lines in his forehead crease, and his jaw stiffens. “He’s gone now, though. We don’t talk anymore.”
“Why not?”
I spit the words out quickly, because if I don’t, I’ll choke on them. “He saw what I looked like and never spoke to me again. I must not have been what he was hoping for.”
A flash of pain crosses Parker’s face, a wince, almost as if my admission were a sharp slap across his cheek. He grits his teeth together. “Or maybe you were everything he was hoping for, and he wasn’t ready for that.”
My next breath lodges in the back of my throat, not expecting something so kind and reassuring to pass through Parker’s lips. I inch closer to him on the couch, placing my palm against his thigh. “Thank you. That was really sweet.”
“Sweet,” he parrots, glancing at my hand. And then in one fell swoop, he snatches it up, pulling me by the wrist with his left hand and using the other to scoop me off the couch and position me on his lap. His fingers glide up my spine until he’s gripping the back of my neck, our foreheads almost touching while I straddle him. “If you knew all the things I wanted to do to you right now, I don’t think you’d be calling me sweet.”
A surge of desire blazes through me as I press my groin into his, running my fingers through his soft hair. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to.”
“Oh, I fucking want to. I want you so much it’s killing me,” he nearly hisses, grinding his erection into the heat between my thighs. “It’s killing me because I can’t…”
Parker’s eyes close, and he goes silent.
“You can’t what?” I brush a lock of loose hair from his forehead, then place a tender kiss to his hairline. “Tell me.”
A heartbeat goes by, and then a growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating into mine. He yanks me off his lap and flips me over on the couch until I’m faceplanted into the cushions. I squeak in surprise when he lifts me up by my midsection, my ass jutted out, ramming into his hard arousal. Parker’s hands sweep up the back of my thighs as he drags my dress up over my hips, then palms my cheeks sheathed in lace. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I hear his belt buckle unlatch, and something in me freezes.
God, I want him, there’s no doubt about that…
But I don’t want him like this. Something doesn’t feel right. He’s angry, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his transferred aggression with my face buried in his sofa cushions. “Parker, wait.”
He hoists me up until my back is flush against him, one hand cupping my breast. I lose myself for a moment, yielding to his touch, relishing in the way my skin dances to life when his lips dip to my ear, and he whispers, “You on that pill? I want to come in you.”
His words shoot tingles straight to the throbbing juncture between my legs. I arch against him, nodding. “I am now.”
A little late to be inquiring about that, considering I had to race to the pharmacy and purchase the morning after pill following our foolish, unprotected sex romp in my backyard. Then I panic-called my OB-GYN to order in a prescription for birth control since I’ve been on-and-off it for over a year now.
Parker rasps a quick “good” into my ear, and then his zipper unfastens as he tugs my panties down my hips. He gathers my mane of hair in his fist and moves it aside while he holds me up with his opposite arm. His mouth finds the back of my neck, his tongue teasing me into submission. When his fingers drift from my hair and snake around my midsection, delving between my thighs, I instinctively bow my back, seeking his touch.
A groan reaches my ear as he thrusts two fingers inside me, causing my knees to buckle. I drop my head back against his shoulder, feeling his hot breath kiss my temple.
But when I twist around to make eye contact, he removes his fingers and pushes me back down onto the couch until I’m on all fours, and he’s grasping my hips between both palms, aligning me with his pelvis.
Damn it.
“Parker, stop,” I murmur, low and hushed because part of me doesn’t want to stop, but loud enough that he can hear me. Because we should. “Not like this.”
He stills, his fingertips digging into my waist. “You want to stop?”
“I think so.”
“Did I do something?”
Pushing up on my arms, I lift to my knees and situate my clothing, tugging up my underwear and pulling my dress back down. I face him, noting he’s staring at me with a wounded expression, wrought with confusion, propped up on his knees like me. “I just… I want more than that,” I admit, swallowing down a wave of emotion.
I feel a little silly.
This was supposed to be a sexy hook-up, and I’m ruining it with feelings and a desperate need for intimacy.
Parker’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure me out. Read between the lines. “You want more than sex? A relationship?”
“No, I just…” Collapsing into a sitting position, Parker does the same, inching down slowly and yanking his zipper back up. Our eyes meet, and I continue. “You don’t want to look at me, or kiss me, or maintain any genuine connection. It just makes me feel… cheap. In a way.”
He shakes his head through a frown. “That’s not… fuck, I’m not trying to. I don’t fucking know how to do any of this.”
“Don’t overthink it, Parker,” I urge, scooting closer to him and clasping his hand between my two palms. “Just feel. Follow your instincts.”
“My instincts? My instincts are telling me to bend you over and fuck the shit out of you right here on the couch. That didn’t work out so well.”
I can’t help the amusement from seeping in, and I slip him a smile, placing one of my hands to his heart. “These instincts.”
Parker flinches when I make contact with his chest, instinctually moving back.
“I know you want more, too,” I tell him. “I see your struggle. I feel it. I hear it in your voice, and I want you to know that I’m listening. When you’re ready.”
He ducks his chin to his chest, his eyes floating away from me. His heart thumps against the pads of my fingertips, hurried and turbulent, trying to tell me all the things he can’t seem to say.
And then an idea comes to mind. I pull my hand from his chest and rise from the couch, my eyes inspecting the walls.
“Where are you going?” Parker wonders, watching me with stoic curiosity.
I find what I’m looking for and move to the far wall.
Then, I flip off the light switch.
“Melody?”
The room darkens to nearly pitch-black, the only light source being the moon radiating in through the front window. Parker doesn’t have much furniture, so my trek back to the couch is fairly graceful, and his shadowy outline comes into view as I near him.
Instead of taking a seat beside him, I’m feeling bold, so I move into the same position I was in earlier. The same position I was in when the tornado hit—when the lights went out and all we had was each other to cling to.
I climb into his lap.
Parker stiffens below me, his breath shuddering as his hands reach out to gently grip my waist. “What are you doing?”
Leaning forward, I press a light kiss to his forehead, my hands lifting to cup his jaw. I whisper back, “The dark is the very best secret-keeper. The things we say in the dark never have to leave it.”