Chapter 10 Parker #2
“There she is.” Jace stops beside a vessel that makes my breath catch.
Scarlett is beautiful—maybe sixty feet of gleaming white fiberglass and polished chrome, the kind of high-performance yacht that belongs on magazine covers.
Her lines are aggressive, built for speed rather than comfort.
“She’s fast. We can make it to the mainland in thirty minutes. ”
I stare at the name painted in elegant script across the stern. Scarlett. Not what I expected from Jace, who usually chooses names based on function rather than sentiment.
Within moments, we’re pulling away from the dock, the twin engines purring with barely restrained power. The harbor opens up around us, all blue water and infinite sky, and I grip the rail as Jace opens the throttles and the boat leaps forward like a predator finally unleashed.
The spray hits my face as we cut through the chop, and I find myself laughing despite everything—the crisis, the confession, the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. There’s something exhilarating about being alone with Jace on the open water, racing against time and weather.
“You can come up to the helm,” he calls over the engine noise. “She’s stable.”
I make my way forward carefully, the deck vibrating beneath my feet with controlled power. The wheelhouse is all chrome and leather and state-of-the-art electronics, but my attention focuses on Jace—hands steady on the wheel, eyes scanning the horizon with practiced competence.
Even when we were kids, Jace was the one who thought three steps ahead.
While Cal and Silas and Charles were wrestling over video game controllers or arguing about which movie to watch, Jace would be quietly reading in the corner of whatever room I was in.
He never talked much during those times, just existed in the same space, his presence steady and reassuring.
Some of my happiest childhood memories are of sitting in the Carter family study, both of us reading different books, the silence comfortable and complete.
“See that?” He points toward the horizon where a dark line of clouds gathers. “Storm system moving in from the south. We’ll beat it to the mainland, but the trip back might be interesting.”
“Define interesting.” I move closer, drawn by the calm competence he radiates.
“Choppy water. Some rain.” His shoulder brushes mine as he adjusts our heading, and the contact sends electricity down my spine. “Nothing Scarlett can’t handle.”
“And if it gets worse?”
He glances at me, those steel-blue eyes unreadable. “Then we find shelter and wait it out.”
There’s something in his tone that makes me think he’s not just talking about the weather. The space between us feels charged, heavy with everything we haven’t said since last night when he called me princess and made my whole world tilt sideways.
“The boat,” I say, grasping for safer ground. “Why Scarlett?”
His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on the wheel. “You really want to know?”
I nod, even though part of me is terrified of the answer.
“The Scarlett Letter,” he says, and I can hear the slight embarrassment in his voice.
I blink at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “Seriously? No, you didn’t.”
“Okay, maybe not entirely because of that book,” he says, a flush creeping up his neck. “But remember when your dad took Charles and Cal out to New York with Cal’s dad, and Silas had some medical procedure done and was in the hospital?”
The laughter dies in my throat as the memory surfaces. “Yeah. You stayed at my house that weekend even though...”
“Yeah, even though you didn’t need a babysitter.”
“You’re only two years older than me! How was a nineteen-year-old you a better choice to keep a seventeen-year-old safe than leaving me alone?”
“Ouch.”
“You know what I mean.”
His mouth quirks upward, the first real smile I’ve seen from him all morning. “Well, you got your payback, remember? You said if I was going to be your overseer, I’d have to oversee you watching Easy A.”
“Yes!” The memory makes me grin despite everything. “You hated that movie.”
“I did. But you loved it. A modern-day Scarlett Letter story.” He glances at me, something soft and vulnerable in his expression.
“You made me watch it three times that weekend. By the third time, I wasn’t watching the movie anymore.
I was watching you laugh at all the same jokes, quote all the same lines.
And I realized I’d rather be miserable watching a movie you loved than happy doing anything else. ”
My chest tightens. “Jace—”
“So when I bought the boat and needed a name...” He shrugs, trying for casual and missing by miles. “It reminded me of the weekend I figured out I was completely gone for you. Seemed fitting.”
“Jace.” His name comes out softer than I intended, raw with something I don’t know how to name.
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the set of his shoulders. “It’s obvious how you feel about me. Seems my focus on being the best at my job came at a cost.”
“It didn’t,” I say quickly, stepping closer without thinking. “I just... this is a lot to unpack in less than twenty-four hours. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to choose...”
“It’s not about choosing, Parker.” His voice is patient, certain.
“It’s about listening. To us, yes, but most of all to yourself.
It’s not about being your family’s princess in a tower or an asset—we have no expectations except that you be you.
” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “So of course, we worked your ability to overthink shit like no other into any scenario where any of us told you the truth about how we see you. Me, Cal, Silas... we knew you’d spiral. ”
Despite everything, I huff out a laugh. “I don’t spiral.”
“You absolutely spiral. You’re spiraling right now.”
“I am not—” I stop, because he’s right. My mind is racing through a thousand different scenarios, analyzing every word, every look, every possibility and consequence. “Okay, maybe I’m spiraling a little.”
“A little.” His smile widens, becoming more real. “Parker, you’ve been catastrophizing since you were eight years old. Remember when you convinced yourself that forgetting to feed the goldfish for one day meant you were a terrible person destined to kill everything you touched?”
The memory makes me wince. “Mr. Bubbles lived for three more years.”
“Exactly. You overthink because you care, because you don’t want to hurt anyone. But sometimes...” He reaches out, his fingers brushing mine on the wheel housing. “Sometimes you have to trust that the people who love you can handle a little uncertainty while you figure things out.”
The contact is brief but electric, and when he pulls back, I immediately miss the warmth.
“What if I figure it out wrong?” The question slips out, smaller than I intended.
“Then we figure it out together.” His answer is immediate, certain. “That’s what we do, Parker. We’ve been figuring things out together since we were kids. This doesn’t have to be different.”
But it is different, and we both know it. The air between us has changed, charged with possibility and want and twelve years of careful distance that’s finally crumbling.
The coastline grows larger ahead of us, and the first drops of rain begin to spatter the windscreen. We’ve outrun the worst of the storm, but I can see it building behind us—dark clouds and churning water that promise an interesting trip back.
“There,” Jace points to a marina ahead. “I can see the van in the parking lot.”
Sure enough, there’s a broken-down vehicle surrounded by people and musical equipment. Relief floods through me as Jace expertly guides Scarlett into the marina, the crisis finally within reach of being solved.