Chapter Twenty-Three
Being in Parker’s house feels like stepping into an old memory, like the time he and I sat on the staircase, waiting for Nathan to come home from his first-ever date.
He told us that Chloe Sinclair kissed him in the movie theater—his first kiss—and that he probably did it wrong.
Parker plugged his ears and begged him to stop talking, while I laughed until my sides ached.
It all comes back to me like being wrapped up in an old blanket from the attic, but I can’t shake the guilt from having folded it up and stored it away in the first place. When was the last time we all gathered under this roof? It has to have been almost a decade ago.
The house has seen some obvious renovations since those days.
Newly installed white counters gleam from the kitchen, and the floorboards have been freshly restored.
But C? still hasn’t replaced the tea set that Parker chipped—the white-and-blue porcelain remains in its rightful spot on the dining table, beside a fruit bowl that’s somehow filled with mangoes year round.
Framed photos of Parker are displayed throughout the house like milestones: Parker in varsity games and Oregon Ducks uniforms and in later phases of life I don’t recognize, with people I don’t know.
While the brothers are in the living room watching the second Thanksgiving NFL game, I’m mashing a steaming pot of potatoes in the kitchen.
C? put the turkey in the oven a couple hours ago, but she still checks on it every ten minutes.
Across from me, Dad and Chú assemble rice paper rolls.
When Chú saw me enter the house earlier, he seemed taken aback and was even more so when Parker told me I was on mashed potatoes duty.
The house is just as lively as it was when we’d gather for holidays. Dad and Chú are comparing their stock portfolios over the low strains of Vietnamese songs on a phone with a looping playlist. C? shouts for Nathan to grab her good china from the top shelf. He yells back, “After this quarter!”
“It’s looking like a good time to sell,” I can hear Dad say from his end of the island.
Chú shakes his head, tutting, “The market’s too unpredictable.”
“But houses here are going fast. That’s a good sign.” He lifts his chin at me. “Dani, did you read that article I sent you?”
I drop a slab of butter into the pot. “Which one?”
“The one on the housing market in Oregon. It’s good to keep up with these things.”
“Oh, um,” I run through my usual canned responses but can’t think of anything to autofill. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Busy? Are you actually being productive or just playing video games until 3 a.m.?”
Before I can roll my eyes to the back of my skull, C? hands me a glass of water. “Parker told me you two went to a big party in Manhattan.”
I take a sip from the glass. “We did. He was the one who invited me.”
“See? I knew it! I always said one day you two would make up and be friends again. Back then, you kids always stuck together, running around the house, making everyone nuts!” She clasps her hands together and sighs, “I was so, so sad that you and Parker drifted apart in college.”
Drifted apart is certainly an understatement. It confirms that she still didn’t know about the events that led to our friendship ending.
She lays a hand on my arm. “I think Parker really likes New York. He was always so tired before, constantly working in San Francisco. But now when I call him, he sounds relaxed. Easygoing. I’m always surprised that he actually wants to talk to me!”
I can’t come up with an unambiguous response, and I also don’t know what to make of this information, so I focus instead on squashing every potato clump in the pot.
Once I finish in the kitchen, I wipe my hands dry and roam into the living room, where Nathan and Parker are yelling at the TV over a fumble.
I throw them a glare. “I see the patriarchy is still thriving.”
“I was literally wrapping spring rolls all morning before you got here,” Parker mutters back from the couch. “All I asked for was a break to watch the game, and then I’ll jump back into the fray.”
“Stop acting noble,” Nathan cuts in from the armchair. “We’re only eating at four because you said you have to catch the Niners game at five.”
Parker shoots him a look but doesn’t bother denying it. I take the far-left seat on the couch, careful to leave a respectful amount of space between us—just enough for two people who are definitely not sleeping together.
Trying to follow the game forces me to dust off the football-designated part of my brain. “A QB sneak on the fourth and 3? Isn’t that a bit unconventional?”
“Yeah, it was a weird call.” Parker blinks over at me. “If it were me, I would’ve gone for the handoff. The distance is one thing, but they don’t have the best O-line to push for a sneak either.”
“Man, with the right personnel, the QB sneak is like a cheat code,” Nathan adds. “You’ve got the biggest dudes just scrumming through to the first down.”
“Aren’t they risking their QB getting injured, going up the middle like that?” I ask.
“They are, but the play’s got potential if it’s done right,” Parker says.
“The ideal QB can read the defense to carry out the sneak: Should he go over, go under, or find a gap? That’s how Brady did it.
What Nathan’s talking about, though, is kind of a new formation, and it’s basically unstoppable with the right team. ”
Nathan nods sagely. “The good ol’ Tush Push.”
I laugh. “Is it actually called that?”
“Not on paper, but that’s the gist of it. You push the QB from behind, and he has the momentum to gain a yard.”
“I think I get it,” I bob my head thoughtfully. “It’s quick and aggressive, so it’s hard to block if the linebackers can’t get into position in time. If you’re facing, say, a fourth and one, and you’ve got a physical advantage, it’s the most effective short-yardage play. Theoretically, of course.”
“Theoretically. Right.” I could be imagining it, but when Parker turns his head to me, his gaze softens. “I forgot that you know a thing or two about football.”
Football is the only sport I have even a passable understanding of, and I’m looking at the reason why right now.
“That’s the extent of my sports knowledge,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Please don’t ask me anything about the Rangers.”
We watch the game from our strategically spaced positions, with Parker filling me in on who the players are and which ones are on his fantasy team.
Nathan chimes in to let me know who’s dating an actress or a model.
I can’t remember the last time the three of us sat in this room watching TV, but somehow, it feels like no time has passed.
“Oh, wow, I can’t believe they squeezed the tight end in there,” I say and then snort into my hand.
“What?” asks Parker.
“Tight end always makes me laugh.”
“Can you be mature for once?” Parker says, but he flashes me a heart-stopping smile.
“Okay, I have to address this before it drives me insane.” Nathan leans forward. “How are you guys suddenly fine? Did something happen in New York?”
“Nothing in particular,” Parker says nonchalantly. “The more time we spent together, the easier it was to be friends again than to stay mad at each other.”
That’s a surprisingly sensible way of explaining that we boned a near decade of hostility out of each other.
Unlike me, Parker is having a much easier time fielding questions. When Chú asked me in the kitchen if I’d taken Parker to any of my favorite spots, I nearly replied, He doesn’t need my help hitting the spot that matters most.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful you two idiots worked things out, but I still want a play-by-play. How did you even get in touch? You’ve never come back to Silverpine at the same time; you two always manage to miss each other. Who reached out to whom?”
“No one. We randomly ran into each other.”
“In New York City?” Nathan guffaws. “You’re telling me that because the stars aligned, you two are friends again?”
A grin spreads across Parker’s face, and he crosses his arms. “Something like that.”
Thankfully, the game cuts to commercial, and Nathan heads to the kitchen. I take the opportunity to scoot over to Parker, speaking low enough that my voice won’t carry.
“I’m surprised you cut your tour of the California coast short for this. Thought you’d want more quality time with your boat.”
“Were you stalking me again?”
“Every time I open that app, my eyes are assaulted with photos of you on that thing. I’m sure the ladies were thrilled to celebrate the return of their nautical god, though.”
With his arms still folded across his chest, he regards me through the corner of his eye. “Is there a reason you think women are throwing themselves at me?”
“Seriously, Parker? You’ve reaped the benefits of looking like you your entire life. You don’t need me to spell it out.”
I can tell he loves this. His goading smile says, Go on, spell it out, but I’m not taking the bait. I flip him off in my mind and return to my side of the couch.
“If you want me to take you on my boat, you can just ask.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he tries to contain his shit-eating grin. “Since you bring it up so much.”
“No thanks. I’m not fond of open water; never have been.
The ocean is basically a death trap, and lakes are kind of eerie.
Who knows what creature might creep up and nip at my foot?
I mean, I suppose it’d be fine if I stay on the boat, and it’s not like I hate them, but there’s a reason every horror movie involves a lake.
Honestly, I’m not even a fan of water in general.
Oh, but infinity pools? Those I can get behind. ”
Parker clicks his tongue and turns back to the TV. “Sometimes I think you just like to hear yourself talk.”
My brain falters at his condescension, so I let my body retaliate for me and launch a pitiful kick in his direction.
Something about this house brings out my inner child.
Parker is caught off guard at first, but then his athlete reflexes kick in, and he grabs my leg before it lands.
I try to wiggle myself free, but he catches my ankle and pins me down with his other arm.
He’s laughing, and I’m smiling in spite of myself.
A strange emotion churns inside me, and the closest thing I can pin it to is nostalgia.
But when Nathan’s voice cuts through—“Is the game back on?”—it’s like a cleaver to a stump.
Parker immediately drops my leg, and we break apart before anyone can see us.