Chapter 12 #3
My eyes get trapped in his as he waits for my answer. I sigh, a deep, long, heavy breath that forces all the air from my lungs. Because you’re not part of the plan. Because you make things messy and complicated, and I came here to get away from messy and complicated.
Between us on the ground, my phone trills, breaking the moment.
“Time’s up,” I say, turning it off. I prepare to push up from the ground, but he stops me.
“I never thanked you for earlier,” he says quietly, and it doesn’t take a genius—or a sober person—to realize it took a lot for him to say that out loud.
I could brush it off with a don’t mention it, but I know him well enough by now.
He wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it, and it sounds like Parker is used to taking care of everyone around him.
He has people in his life, but I don’t know if he can talk to them about the more complicated things, the messy, grey area thoughts you’re still working through, that can feel like a burden to put on someone else.
It’s why I keep telling Lyla I’m fine, that nothing has changed.
Except … I think I have. But having no one to talk to about it makes going through this not only scary but lonely, too.
Knowing what I do now about Parker, I wonder if he's in a similar boat. So I ask the question he probably hasn’t been asked before.
“Do you give your dad money often?”
His head snaps to mine, but I’m still too drunk to be self-conscious.
“Sorry,” I say. “I saw it in your glove compartment. I wasn’t snooping, I swear, I was looking for a phone charger and it was right there.”
He sighs. “It’s okay. If I didn’t want you to know, I probably shouldn’t have brought you with me to deliver it.”
We’re quiet for a beat, neither moving to get up.
“I think it’s really big of you to help your dad out,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that.”
“I don’t.” He lets out a breath. “Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t have the best relationship with my dad. Certain people have told me I should do myself a favor and cut him off for good, let him figure out how to fend for himself. Otherwise, he never will.”
I remember the bartender he was talking to, the woman Sam said was his brother’s ex.
“Cass?”
He nods. “Sam’s mentioned it once or twice, too.
They know he doesn’t always use the money super responsibly.
I guess I got in the habit of hiding it without even realizing it.
” His head tips back, letting it rest against the glass door, looking tired for reasons that have nothing to do with being up past his bedtime.
“But you won’t,” I supply, knowing the answer.
“Maybe there’s part of me that likes knowing he needs me. Whether he likes it or not. It means he can’t disappear. Not for longer than a few days, at least.”
I remember what he told me that day in the barn about his mom. Long gone, he’d said.
Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm. “I’m sure he appreciates it, even if he doesn’t know how to show it,” I say gently. I’m not sure I believe that, but if it makes Parker feel better, I don’t mind the lie.
He scoffs, the air escaping his nose as he drops his chin. He picks at a fraying seam on his jeans, shaking his head. “It’s penance. He says I owe it to him for trying to leave with my mom.”
I frown, my mind racing as I try to imagine the circumstances. In the distance, noise from the bar continues to drift out into the otherwise deserted area, the music swelling every time the door opens.
“When you told me she left, I assumed you chose to stay here.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah, well. Most people don’t assume that a mom would refuse their fifteen-year-old kid begging her to take them with her because she wanted a clean break.”
“She said that?” My question comes out breathy with disbelief.
He nods. “Said I looked too much like my dad when she met him. She couldn’t stand looking at me, waiting to see me turn into the man he did.”
“Parker,” I whisper, my heart breaking for him.
“People make mistakes,” he says, stoic as usual.
“I know I do. I try to be a good person and keep mine to a minimum. That’s why I like working at Salem Stables for Tibby.
I can keep to myself, keep my head down, and still be close enough to keep an eye on my dad and Cass.
Tibby’s the only person who has ever judged me for me—not the mistakes my dad has made.
” He turns his head to catch my eye. “Well, and now you, too, I guess. Thanks for that.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since I got here and you’re thanking me?”
He shrugs. “Yes. There’s no question when it comes to you, Sloan—if you’re pissed at me, it’s about me. I can own that. And when I say if, I mean when.”
Everything about him makes so much sense now.
In one night, my entire perception of Parker has changed.
I came in having judged him before I met him based on the actions of Tabitha’s past employers—people he’d never worked with, or even met.
Of course, that was going to rub him the wrong way.
Salem Stables isn’t just my happy place anymore—it’s his, too.
And I threatened to take it away from him when I got here.
“I held you accountable for other people’s actions when I met you, which was wrong of me. I hated you for making assumptions about who I was, but I was doing the same thing. Can you forgive me?”
“What, like … start over?” he asks hesitantly.
“Yeah, but let’s not do that cringey thing where we re-introduce ourselves and pretend we’re meeting for the first time, because blech.
” Beside me, he laughs, the sound travelling through my arm where it connects with his and pooling in my belly.
I beam, grateful that he seems a bit lighter than before.
“Besides, you have done plenty for me to hold you personally accountable, and I don’t plan to let you off the hook, mister. ”
The grin in his voice is audible. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” I hold up my fingers and start ticking things off. “There was the horse poop you put in my good running shoes.” He snorts, and I pretend to scowl at him. “Hiding the pitchforks so I couldn’t do any work, and don’t think I’ve forgiven you for letting me think I was losing them myself.”
His laughter is full-on now, and I cross my arms, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re on thin ice, my friend. Very thin ice.”
As his laughter fades, I turn my face to his. His eyes drop to my lips for a second. “Guess I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you.”
There’s a weight to his words that wasn’t there a moment ago, and my smile fades as I peer up at him, meeting his intense gaze.
Oh boy. I am definitely in trouble.