Chapter 16
I only chicken out twice before climbing the stairs up to the hayloft, sandwich in hand. I’m not sure how Parker will react to my being here, but there’s something deeply curious inside me that wants to know. He may dismiss me again. But something inside me tells me he won’t.
From the top of the stairs, I catch sight of his rippling, capable muscles as he lifts a hay bale easily and tosses it outside, sweat leaving a sheen on his forehead—down girl.
“I’m not sure this is union-approved overtime.”
His step stutters, and his eyes lock on mine. My stomach drops half an inch. I’ve never seen him smile like that. His greetings typically consist of a nod, at least when it comes to me.
He passes by, carrying a heavy-looking bale by its twine and tosses it out the square door onto the driveway below before turning back to me slowly, dragging an arm over his damp forehead as we stare each other down.
His T-shirt is darkened with sweat, and it takes me a solid half minute to remember what I came here to say, because the sight I’m taking in is so distracting.
He’s certainly made a dent, but there’s still a lot of hay left in the loft.
“Thanks for your truck.” I toss his keys, arcing them through the air.
He catches them against his chest, then reacts quickly when I toss the wrapped sandwich at him, too.
“What’s this?”
“Food.”
He eyes it, suspicious. “Is it poisoned?”
I fight a smile. “No, it’s a thank you. For this,” I add, tipping my chin towards the hay. I take a breath. “Why are you doing it?”
He frowns at the sandwich in his gloved hand, struggling with something. He lowers his head and drags a hand over his thick brown hair. “Because I’m sorry.” His eyes flash to me quickly, then drop again. “I was a dick earlier. I’m not used to being … friendly. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I nod, clasping my now-empty hands in front of me. “Okay.”
I cross the wooden floor, covered in a layer of loose hay, and sit in the loading door, letting my legs dangle outside. “Well, if you’re going to work all night because of me, the least you can do is eat the sandwich I brought you.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” he says quietly, pulling off his work gloves as he sits beside me on the floor, mimicking my position.
“Get ready to experience the culinary mastery of Sloan Sanders. Fair warning, it’s not real bacon.”
He examines it to figure out what he’s in for, then pauses, arching an eyebrow at me. “You gonna watch me eat the whole thing?”
“Just the first bite.”
I lean back on my hands, pretending to settle in for it.
He takes an enormous bite, letting his eyes roll back and moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
A bubble of laughter escapes me, but there’s no denying what that sound does to my insides.
I adjust myself so I’m no longer facing him.
We sit shoulder to shoulder, about a foot of space between us, and look out over the house, bathed in golden hour light.
“Are you wearing what I think you’re wearing?” he asks, a mouthful of sandwich tucked in his cheek.
I grin because he noticed, like I hoped he would. “I know how much you love this tracksuit.” I peek at him from the corner of my eye, my smile widening when I see him grinning back at me.
“I get it, you know,” I say gently. “I’m not saying it was okay, but I understand why you put your walls up.”
His throat works in a hard swallow. “Yeah. I think that’s why I—”
“Freaked out?”
He breathes a laugh through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “That’s fair. I’m not used to … sharing. Even Tibby doesn't know most of that stuff I told you about my parents.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not it—I know you wouldn’t spread something like that around.
But that’s what freaked me out so much, I think.
I’m not used to trusting people. My family—the people I consider family—is small.
I didn’t think I’d be adding anyone to it, but …
” Our eyes meet, and I can’t help but hold my breath as I wait for what’s coming next. “Somehow, I trust you.”
His words land on me like a weighted blanket, warm, heavy, and comforting.
He trusts me. And not just by default because I was friendly and likeable—this trust feels like I’ve earned it.
It makes me want to give something back to him, and the truth about my own family is suddenly on the tip of my tongue.
I swallow it down, because it feels wrong to share it with Parker before Tabitha, but I offer him something else—a piece of the truth.
“When I was seventeen, my parents sent me up here for the whole summer,” I say, speaking into the setting sun.
“The first thing I said to Tabitha when I got here was that they were getting divorced.” His eyes land on me, but I keep my profile turned to him.
“They hadn’t told me, but they’d been fighting for months, it felt like.
Always behind closed doors, trying to keep it hidden from everyone, even me.
Whenever I asked what was wrong, they lied and hid the truth behind fake smiles.
” Fighting, I know now, because I was about to turn eighteen and they couldn’t agree on whether to tell me the truth about my father, whether to keep lying to me about who I am.
“At first, I was able to smooth things over when things would get tense between them, but eventually, nothing worked. The cracks in the surface were too deep to gloss over, and I knew they’d sent me away so I wouldn’t watch their marriage end.
Salem Stables was always my happy place, but it became a refuge that summer.
Somewhere the outside world couldn’t hurt me. ”
Beside me, Parker shifts. “The way Tibby talks about your parents … I thought they were still together.”
“They are. When I went back in the fall and everything was back to normal, it was almost worse. Like they work as a unit when I’m not around.
Then I left for college, and they stayed solid.
” Until I moved back in with them a few months ago, which made everything worse again.
“It’s never felt like home again, though.
This, Salem Stables, is the only place that’s never stopped feeling like home.
So, I get why you want to protect it. It’s as important to you as it is to me.
” I meet his eyes. “That’s what I want this place to feel like for Lucy and her friends this weekend.
I want them to feel like they’ve been here before, like they belong, like—”
“Like they never have to leave?”
A slow smile spreads over my face, and I nod.
“You never explained what the tracksuit was for,” he points out.
“Consider it an olive branch,” I explain with a shrug.
“You felt weird about opening up to me, not once but twice, and pulling back was some form of self-preservation. So, this is me giving you ammunition to level the playing field. I can’t be morally superior with the word Juicy stamped on my ass. ”
“Jesus,” he mutters, though his scruffy mouth tips up in amusement. “It’s kind of scary how well you know me.”
We fall into comfortable silence while Parker polishes off the last of his sandwich, our shoulders almost touching.
I stare out at the sun, a bright, glaring orange ball in the distance as it sets over the ridge of trees that line the property.
It’s stunning. I fish my phone out of my pocket to snap a few pictures, leaning to get the perfect angle.
“Feeling a burning need for everyone to know exactly what you’re doing right at this moment?” he says through a mouthful of sandwich.
I narrow my eyes at him, and he twirls his hand.
“Don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, tweet whatever you're Snapchatting. I don’t mind.”
“How refreshing, a guy who hates social media,” I grumble, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “But no, this is just for me.” I feel his eyes on me again, watching me closely.
“Can I ask you something?” he says several moments later, polishing off his sandwich. “If it’s way too personal, you can tell me to go to hell.”
I chew the inside of my lip for a second before giving him a nod of encouragement.
“Why are you doing all this? You don’t know the girl who’s getting married or her friend.
And it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the chaos of event planning.
Why go to all this trouble? Why not just say no?
I mean, Tabitha mentioned you do pretty well for yourself.
She made it sound like you can pick and choose the jobs you want to take. ”
“Were you asking about me?” I can’t help but tease.
His lips twitch, and he seems dangerously close to letting a smile slip. “It came up in passing. I don’t remember the details.”
“Mhmm, sure.” I don’t answer his question right away, listening to the buzz of the crickets as I mull over my answer. I don’t have to explain, but I do it anyway because it’s him. Because it’s safe.
“Veronica’s best friend is getting married.
She’s worried that they won’t be as close anymore and wants to do something before then to remind her friend how much she loves her before everything changes.
” I feel his eyes land on me again. Parker is quiet, and so am I as I let the words sink in, understanding the thoughts I didn’t even know I had.
“I know what it’s like to be sidelined as the backup person. ”
I think about how Lyla and I used to be inseparable and practically telekinetic and how we are now. How her marriage was the beginning of a slow series of cracks in the foundation of our friendship and what that will eventually mean for us—a slow, painful unraveling.
“What if it’s not enough? What if things are still different between them, after all this?”
I look over at Parker, a sad determination in my smile. “Then at least I’ll have helped her give her friend a beautiful send-off.”
As he studies me, I notice the color in his eyes again. Not just boring brown. Not boring at all, actually. Rich, warm brown with a green starburst ringing his pupils. One of a kind. Just like him. Rising to his feet, he reaches down and offers his hand to help me up.
“Sounds like I should get back to work, then.”
The contact of his skin on mine warms my hand and then some.
“Let me help you,” I say, my voice coming out strangely husky as I back up, peel off my sweater, tossing it aside, and reach for the nearest bale.
“What are you doing?” he snaps, voice gruff.
“Helping,” I say, grabbing the strings of the nearest bale and hoisting. God, that’s heavy. I half-carry, half-shuffle it across the floor to where we were sitting.
“Sloan, stop.”
“I can help. Do I yell ‘bombs away’ and throw it down from here?”
“Let me do the throwing. And the rest of it too, while you’re at it.”
“No way, I just managed to convince you I’m not a princess.” I use my foot to shove the hay-wrapped cement over the edge, where it lands with a satisfying thud on the driveway below.
“Sloan.”
“I know I can’t go as fast as you, but—”
“Sloan.” He stops me reaching for another bale with a hand, tight around my wrist.
He’s in my space, standing close enough that I can still smell the lingering hints of his shampoo, his grip warm and firm and sending shocks up my arm and straight through my core. “When I said I’ll work faster on my own, I meant I won’t get any work done at all with you here looking like that.”
My chin dips to follow his gaze to my white cotton V-neck T-shirt, the fabric loose but low over my chest. No stains, no embarrassing bra showing. What’s his problem? The intensity of his eyes answers my question.
“You’re saying I’m a distraction?”
He swallows hard. And when he answers, it comes out as a rasp. “Yes.”
I’d ask him to draw me a map of where exactly he redrew these lines between us if I had any faith he knew where the hell they were, himself.
He’s asking me to leave, but he doesn’t want me to this time.
Not really. Based on the silent battle of wills between my legs and my brain right now, I know I don’t want to either.
My thoughts race and stumble. What am I doing? Sabotaging the one person I need to pull this party off, that’s what. I know myself well enough not to think this could end any other way than badly.
But just because there are plenty of reasons why we shouldn’t cross this line, doesn’t mean we can’t go right up to it and peek over the edge, just for fun … right?
I don’t lean forward into his space. With his fingers still closed around my flaming wrist, I turn my palm until it’s pressed flat against his chest, until I can feel the thump of his heart through his shirt, a thrill coursing through me.
He swallows again, his Adam’s apple jerking.
He’s struggling to steady his breathing, and I can tell from how he twitches at the contact that he’s coiled, holding back.
Based on the breath coming rapidly through his nose, he’s holding on tight.
Being this wanted zings my whole body back to life, waking the part of me that had been hibernating until last night. A playful smile toys at my lips, and instead of grabbing a fistful of his shirt to pull him close, like I want to, I push him gently away.
“You know, Parker, sometimes distractions are a part of life, and you just have to deal with them.”
His dimple appears as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he reluctantly concedes to my help. I may not know much about him, but I know one thing for certain. I most certainly have not seen that smile before.