26. Parker
26
PARKER
I woke up reaching for her.
The cool sheets that greeted my fingers instead of soft, warm woman felt all wrong, so I cracked open one eye and lifted my face.
Finding myself alone on the bed, I rasped, “Shit,” and bolted upright.
I already knew she was gone; she wasn’t just in another room. She’d left.
“Trouble?” I called, anyway.
When she didn’t answer, I whipped off the covers and crawled out of bed. After finding my jockeys on the floor in the front room, I pulled them on and searched the rest of the suite, checking out the balcony and kitchen, then the bedroom and bathroom again, before I strode to the exit and yanked it open.
“Oh!” The chick at the hospitality counter jumped when she got a look at me in my underwear. Fumbling for a moment, she finally turned her face away to give me some privacy, even as she tried to stay professional. “G-good morning, Mr. Ohrley. Did you?—”
“Did she leave already?” I asked, motioning back into my suite so she’d know who I was talking about.
Glancing over her shoulder at me, the woman flushed before dropping her gaze. “You mean, Miss Langston?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, sir. She came through here about an hour ago.”
Shit.
I blew out a breath and mumbled, “Thanks,” as I turned back into the room.
“Of course, Mr. Ohrley. And if there’s anything else you—” I slammed the door on her, muffling the rest of her offer.
Then I swiped a hand over my face as I took in the empty suite.
But fuck. She’d left me.
I set my hands on my hips as my chest tightened miserably, reminding me all too much of that moment in Thane’s room when I learned I was an orphan.
And here it came. The pain. The confusion. The lack of understanding. The frustratingly helpless feeling of total fucking abandonment. The knee-jerk urge to apologize and swear that I’d do better for whatever wrong I’d done to cause this to happen in the first place.
But I didn’t want that feeling. I hated that feeling. So I invited the anger in to wipe it all away.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
Real nice of her to leave me in the lurch like this.
The weekend had been perfect too. So why the fuck would she just disappear without a goodbye, backward glance, or even a fuck you?
I stormed toward the bedroom to hunt up my phone. And when I saw the ruined high heels she’d left behind lying negligently in the middle of the floor, my jaw hardened. Trying not to think about when those very heels had dug into my back while I was inside her, I turned my attention to the nightstand and spotted my phone.
But as soon as I dropped onto the bed and reached for it, I paused.
What the fuck was I doing?
Maybe she’d just run out to get something and was still coming back.
Or maybe she’d left me high and dry without a backward glance.
I checked the location of my car, and when I found it at Archer House, I sucked in a harsh breath.
Had guilt chased her straight to her brother to confess all? A cold sweat coated my flesh, but I shook it away almost immediately, refusing to believe that.
It’d been a few days since she’d seen Alec, that was all. Maybe she just missed him. Maybe he’d called her, and she’d had to leave in a hurry.
Without waking me.
Or writing a note.
Fuck. She’d definitely left without saying goodbye on purpose. I ground my teeth, steaming mad, even though, honestly, I knew her sneaking out had been for the best. If she’d waited around to say goodbye, I would’ve begged for more time. We both knew it. I’d already done it twice. And I might’ve even talked her into staying too. Which would be bad.
This thing had to end at some point. Too much longer of it, and people would start to figure shit out.
She’d done me a fucking favor.
And yet I still hated it.
I set the phone down and exhaled slowly, refraining from sending her a snarky message, like Goodbye, I guess or You’re welcome .
I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing through my nose. Then I stood, dressed, and left the hotel as well, glancing back one last time at the floor where we’d had our picnic.
Yeah, I was gonna need help getting over this. Lots of liquid help.
At home, I went straight to the shelves of bourbon in my pool house’s mini kitchen and made myself a double.
I was used to being the one who decided when an affair ended. When I was ready. And I hadn’t been fucking ready yet. This felt as if I’d turned into every woman I’d ever slept with who’d gone clingy and annoying.
Karma was such a nasty bitch, finally serving me a taste of my own medicine. I was not a fan.
I drained the first glass without pausing and poured another.
I honestly wasn’t sure how many I’d had by the time a knock came on my pool house door.
My heart skipped a beat when I glanced over, but Lawson capered inside instead of Hope.
I sank back into the couch cushions where I was camped out, dejected.
“Hey,” the kid greeted cheerfully.
“Mmm, hey.” I set my drink on a side table out of sight so he wouldn’t ask about it. I’d never drunk around him before. When he’d wondered about my impressive display in the mini kitchen, I’d told him all those alcohol bottles had come with the place.
He had no idea how much I liked my bourbon, and I didn’t plan on being the one to clue him in. Lawson was just so fucking innocent. I tried to fake not being the depraved asshole I really was whenever he was around.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice how blitzed and glassy-eyed I’d become.
He plopped down next to me and asked, “Whatcha doing?”
I had one arm draped over the back of the couch, trying to look casual, so I used that hand to lift it in a kind of shrug. “Just chillin’. You?”
“Yep,” he answered, relaxing back on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table before lifting the stub of his half-arm to lay it along the couch as well. “Me too.”
But his one good hand fiddled in his lap nervously as he gazed around the pool house.
When he just sat there like that, looking contemplative and restless at the same time, I let one of the corners of my mouth kick up in amusement. “Something on your mind, little man?”
At the invitation to talk, he turned to me fully, tucking one leg under him to get more comfortable. “After your mom and dad died,” he started, clearly hesitant to ask.
“Yeah?” I asked leadingly, catching myself when I realized I was swaying.
He grimaced, then just said it. “Did you ever feel…guilty? Like whenever anything good happened to you? Or if things were going okay and you were happy? You ever feel like it shouldn’t be so nice without ‘em?”
I exhaled with a sad sigh. “I still feel guilty for being happy sometimes.” Which was probably another reason why I was drunk right now. My time with Hope had been…good. Too good.
I hadn’t deserved it.
When I tried to shrug it off, though, I stopped myself, knowing I shouldn’t. It wasn’t a dismissive topic, especially since the kid needed some helpful advice.
“So it never goes away?” he asked, looking worried.
“I wouldn’t say that.” I shifted uncomfortably before turning to face him as well. “It just…gets better. Some days will still be hard, sure. But you’ll learn how to work through them faster and not let ‘em bother you quite as much. It becomes…tolerable.”
Lawson chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before he frowned. “How? How do you just…work through it?”
With a wince, I admitted, “It’s probably different for everyone, but I try to convince my brain to believe that my mom and dad wouldn’t want me to be miserable. They would like for me to be happy. They would want good things to happen to me. And if I tried to squander the good fortune that does come my way and feel bad about getting it because I know I don’t deserve it… Well, then, that would just piss them off more.”
His eyes widened at the word piss , and I almost dropped the f-bomb in apology.
But he nodded slowly, already past it. “That makes sense. Because, you know, maybe they’re the ones who sent the good stuff down to us in the first place.”
I used to believe shit like that too, so I didn’t counter his suggestion. Whatever the kid needed to think to get through the day was fine by me.
So I told him, “There you go. That’s the way to see it.” And I nudged his shoulder encouragingly.
He used to try to hide his half arm from me, ashamed to let anyone see it, so it felt like a testament to our friendship that he let me touch the shoulder connected to it now.
Apparently reassured by our little talk, he brightened suddenly and asked, “Want to play some Super Mario Kart now?”
I shrugged loosely, figuring that if I could carry out an intelligible heart-to-heart being as half-blitzed as I was, then I could probably play a video game too. “Sure.”
We both pushed our way to our feet, and I followed him out the door of the pool house, across the back patio, and around the pool to the back door of the main house.
I really only came over when I was invited, so Sharon looked up in surprise from the cookie batter she was mixing when I stepped inside after her grandson. Her eyes widened with concern until Lawson happily announced, “Parker and I are going to play Mario Kart.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, relaxing. “But make sure you’ve showered and finished your homework by nine.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he reported, already heading into the attached den where the big screen was.
I saluted her and echoed, “Yes, ma’am,” only to realize how drunk that must look when she narrowed her eyes in disapproval.
I cleared my throat and straightened, only to blow my sober act again when Lawson made fun of me for shedding my shoes and pulling on my lucky socks as he booted up the game.
They were blue polyester and cotton stockings with multiple pictures of my face on them, featuring a graduation cap resting on my head. I wore them every time Lawson challenged me to a match off, warning him that he better watch out because I was putting on my lucky Langston socks.
He usually laughed and called me crazy, but today, he snorted and sent them a distrustful side-eye.
“Man, you need to wash those things already,” he warned. “They’re starting to smell rank.”
“What?” I exclaimed in mock horror. “And wipe away all the good luck? Never.”
I lifted my foot and shoved it in his face to give him a big whiff, something I probably wouldn’t have done sober either.
But thankfully, he saw it as me being silly. With a disgusted laugh, he blocked me with his stub and pretended to choke and sputter past the smell before he tossed me my remote and told me to prepare for a stinky loss.
I’m not sure how long we played, but Sharon kept a constant vigil over us as she finished her cookies, looking concerned as if she thought I was going to start beating on the kid or something.
But I always behaved around him. Even when drunk, apparently. I was the last person she had to worry about. He was family to me.
She was polite enough to offer me a cookie when she finished them and brought a plate over for Lawson to snack on, but when it was time to announce supper, I was not included in the summons.
I ruffled the kid’s hair in farewell, peeled my lucky socks back off—trying not to think about the woman who’d gifted them to me in the first place—then I grabbed my shoes and walked back across the patio to my pool house. Alone.
Dusk had fallen, and the place was dark.
I didn’t bother to turn the light on. I just felt my way to the liquor cabinet in the dimness and poured myself a new drink.
I emerged a few days later, feeling like absolute shit.
For the longest time, I thought it was early the next morning, but nope. That couldn’t be right.
When I realized it was four in the afternoon, and I wasn’t exactly sure which day it was, I decided to pick my ass up and carry on.
I’d mourned the loss of my perfect weekend enough.
So I took a shower and changed into fresh clothes. My stomach wasn’t so happy after all the drinking I’d done, so I wasn’t really hungry.
After checking in on my various investments and answering a dozen or so messages, I chewed on my lip, bored.
And that’s how I found myself logging into the location of my Lucid Air.
I knew I really should stop stalking her, but I couldn’t fucking help it. I just kept wondering where she was, what she was doing, and if she was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about her.
It was sad and pathetic, I knew. Still didn’t care.
When I saw that she was at Archer House, however, I couldn’t help myself. It’d been a week or more since I’d made an appearance there. The guys were going to think something had happened to me if I didn’t show my face sooner or later.
And if I just happened to run into Trouble while I was visiting…
Well then, so be it.