I inhale sharply. “But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.” Parker’s eyes open as he takes another step forward, until we’re nearly chest to chest. “Because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t know what this is, what that was, or where I’m supposed to go from here.”
“You think I do?” I counter, my voice wavering as the feelings running rampant through me threaten to take me down. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
His arm falls from mine again as he runs his fingers through his hair. Then he says in a soft, ragged voice, “I thought you wanted me to go.”
All I can manage is a head shake as the emotions start to climb.
“You wanted me to stay?”
A nod.
“Fuck…” Parker spins around, linking his hands behind his head and regrouping before facing me again. “I told you this wouldn’t end well.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because,” he grits out, leaning in a little closer. “You’re so fucking… breakable. And I’m stone.”
Breakable.
Tears sting my eyes, and I clench my jaw, arms folding tightly across my chest. “Gee, thanks, Parker. That’s what every girl longs to hear.”
“Jesus, that’s not what I—”
Spinning away and marching to the driver’s side of my car, I hold a sob in the back of my throat like a burning ball of scorn. Parker reaches for me again, but this time I find the strength to yank my arm free, and I whip back around, hair flying with me. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
He lets out a hard breath. “I’m no good at this shit, Melody.”
“Clearly.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” I force out, even though I kind of want to scream, everything. Reining in my anger and confliction, I heave in a shaky breath and glance down at my sandals. “I’m going out tonight. With Shane.”
Silence permeates the turbulent wall between us, forcing my head up.
Parker just stares at me, that crease reappearing between his brows, his eyes flickering with wounded confusion. “What?”
My stomach sours.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Shane stopped by three days ago to check my pipes. He said it was standard procedure to make sure everything was still running smoothly, but I got the impression he was looking for an opportunity to see me again. It felt like he had checked me out more than the pipes.
Then when he asked me out for drinks, I faltered. My gut immediately declined his offer because I don’t feel anything for Shane—no tingles, no flutters, no heart palpitations. I don’t envision the way his lips would feel pressed to mine, or daydream about his hands sliding over my curves, slick with rainwater, hungry and eager.
My body seems to want Parker and only Parker.
But Parker is unattainable.
And, well… Shane is interested. He’s emotionally available. He appears to be reliable and stable. I’ve known him for a long time, and my brother vouches for him. Shane follows-up, and he says nice things, and he smiles.
I think I need that. I need to feel like there is hope after Charlie.
While I wasn’t prepared to rush into anything intimate, I did agree to go out with him—as long as West and Leah could tag along.
A double-date of sorts. A group outing.
Something fun and carefree with no expectations.
Only… now I’m doubting my decision because Parker is staring at me like I just ripped the rug out from under him.
My bottom lip quivers slightly as I reply, “I’m going on a date.”
“Why?”
“Because he invited me out to Breaker’s tonight, and I said yes.” His frown deepens, so I continue. “You called me a nuisance. You said I drive you crazy. You didn’t text me back after we…” I trail off, swallowing hard. “You told me to stay away from you, so that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Parker deflates a little, his eyes dancing to the right as he processes my words. A few moments pass before he responds with a quick nod, taking a step back. “Yeah,” he mutters quietly. “Okay.”
He doesn’t look at me again. He keeps his focus elsewhere as he continues to pace backwards, fingers tightening into fists at his sides. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Mostly because I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure how to react to his reaction.
Parker doesn’t deny my claims or attempt to take them back.
He just walks away, allowing me to believe all the things I hoped he’d retract.
I didn’t mean that, Melody.
I take it all back.
Don’t go on that date.
Fairytales.
Shane is an obtainable reality, and Parker is a fantasy.
I watch him storm over to his truck, climb inside, and careen out of the parking lot without a single glance in my direction.
Gathering my wits, I slide into my own vehicle, and when the door is closed tight and my hands are gripping the steering wheel, a single word flashes in my mind…
Breakable.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe Parker’s right, because all I want to do is shatter.
Breaker’s is loud and crowded, bustling with laughter, pool balls clinking, and clattering glasses as bartenders race to keep up with patrons. Leah’s squeal ruptures through the chaos when West sneaks up behind her and hoists her in the air, his arms snaking around her slim waist.
“You ass!” she cries, but her teeth flash white, and a giddy laugh follows.
I smooth my hands over my red maxi dress, a smile lifting, as Shane gets into position beside me with his cue stick. I’m pretty terrible at playing pool, but it’s a great distraction, considering the circumstances. There’s no one-on-one pressure for deep conversation or intimacy.
“Five ball in the corner pocket,” Shane murmurs, leaning down to aim his shot.
We’ve been here for an hour now, and I’ve been nursing my Old Fashioned the whole time. I haven’t been a big drinker since college—the incident with Charlie’s mother was a one-time offense, and a giant stain on my memory. I’ll have a glass of wine every now and then, but I’ve never needed alcohol to have fun.
And then… I just stopped having fun altogether.
Shane succeeds in hitting the five ball in the corner pocket, and West boos, draping his arm around Leah’s shoulders.
“What do you think, Mel?” Shane remarks, studying the table.
Pulling my lips between my teeth, I stiffen. Only Charlie and West call me Mel. “Hmm, how about the six?”
“That’s a stripe. We’re solid.”
“Oh, right.” The ice cubes clank against glass as I twirl the drink in my hands. “Nine?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” he says with a wink.
He misses the shot, and West assesses his next play after downing his beer.
As I’m gearing up for my turn, I feel two warm palms clasp my waist from behind, and I freeze. Shane’s cologne wafts around me, something aromatic and crisp. Sage and mint. It’s a pleasant aroma, but it causes my stomach to pitch instead of flutter.
I miss the smell of woods and rainfall.