"Parker…" I need her to stay. To ask me questions. To let me tell her the truth that's buried in the story that's going to be out there.
But she slips around me and keeps walking.
Disappearing into the garden and away from me and the life I tried to build on a lie.
Chapter 27
Parker
* * *
I'm not really sure how it got to this. How losing Eli hurts as bad as it does, like a part of my soul has been ripped out and there's just an aching hole left. It's the emptiness that destroys me the most. The realization that there's nothing that will fill the gap.
It's even more depressing realizing that I have nowhere to go. I can't go to The Pint. I can't talk to Eli right now.
I can't call my father. He’d tell me to be glad that Davis found out about Eli's past before things got too complicated.
But they're already complicated. They were that first night I walked into The Pint and all but asked him to fuck me and he said no. It was supposed to be an uncomplicated hookup. I can't believe how hard I fell for him. Because he showed me a little bit of kindness and gave me a place to belong, really belong.
I walked away without giving him a chance to explain any of it.
I just can't wrap my brain around how he could justify what I read. How can he explain it away? Because if he can't, then he's responsible for those terrible things.
The article said “war crimes”. “Court-martial”. I don't know much about the military, but I'm pretty sure those two things are not fucking good. How can there possibly be a rational explanation for any of it?
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I hadn't spent an entire semester arguing about violence. Now that violence is all too real, tied to a man that I gave my heart to. Irony is one cold bitch, I tell you.
Crying hurts too damn much. And I've spilled more than enough tears over the screwed-up men in my life.
And what does that say about me?
It says I’m tired of this shit.
I breathe out hard. And pick up my phone.
Davis answers before it even rings once. “Well hello,” he says mildly.
I don’t want to listen to his voice, don’t want to pretend that everything is normal. It’s not. And if I’m honest with myself, it hasn’t been for a long time. “What I can’t figure out is why you’d let this article run. It makes you look like an idiot.”
He makes a noise on the other end. “I don’t need to have this published in order to get what I want out of the deal.”
“And that is?”
“You. You’re smart. You’re pretty. And you’re the daughter of one of the biggest power brokers in the capital. You’re going to stop these childish games and come home.”
The distaste in my mouth sours to something vile. “And if I don’t play along?”
“I make a few calls. And your lover boy gets blasted for being the trigger-happy war criminal that he is. He loses all of his suppliers. His business shuts down. And you have to come home anyway. Either way, you come home. The question becomes how much damage do you want to leave behind you when you leave?”
I press my forehead into my palm, sadness and fatigue clouding my head and making it hard to think. There has to be a way through this. There has to be.
I just can’t think of it at the moment.
Davis breaks the silence. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I expect your decision then.”
It’s amazing how much his voice reminds me of Emperor Palpatine. Only without the cool red lightning fingers.
I drag my comforter over my head, needing twelve hours of sleep before my brain starts to function again.
But sleep is apparently not on the agenda because someone is beating on my door like the building is on fire.
What will I do if it's Eli on the other side?
Whoever it is, though, isn't going away. The banging intensifies to the point that I'm sure the door is coming off its hinges if I don't open it. I sit up, brushing my hair out of my face, and debate whether or not I should do anything more than tie it back before answering the door.
If it's Eli…if it's Eli, judging from the way he's pounding on the door, the conversation isn't going to end any way that would call for brushed teeth and sexy panties.
I shrug on a sweatshirt and pad to the door, yanking it open. Part of me hopes it's Eli, even if I have no clue what I'll do if it is.
I reluctantly open the door, to find that it’s definitely not someone I'd need to brush my teeth and put on sexy undies for.
Kelsey is standing on my welcome mat, her hair tied up in a twisted bun, her expression shifting between concern and irritation. "You look like shit," she says, thrusting a beer into my hand.
The force of her greeting, such as it is, takes me back a step. "And here I was just contemplating my underwear choices before answering the door."
She pauses, frowns, then smiles. I hope that's a smile, anyway. Otherwise I'm about to be missing some teeth. I have a funny feeling she hits harder than Davis ever would.
But she doesn't hit me, doesn't lash out. Instead, she stands there, a bundle of pent-up energy, practically vibrating with a need to move. "Okay seriously, you need to let me in because you have to help us unfuck this, and I'm out of my league with you people."
Well now I'm curious. "Unfuck what?"
"Whatever happened between you and Eli that’s had him barricaded in his office since last night."
I take a step back and let her into my apartment.
Which, thankfully, isn't completely destroyed. Except for the milk that I left on the counter at some point. Or the empty container from Chipotle that thankfully hasn't started growing legs and trying to take over the world.
Or the empty wine bottles.
Okay, maybe it's as bad as it looks.
"What happened?" I ask, forgetting my manners because I'm standing there in a ratty sweatshirt and unbrushed hair. I'm in no shape to serve tea and crumpets. And what the hell is a crumpet, anyway?
She leans on my kitchen counter and swirls her beer in front of her. I've never been intimidated by a woman before, but I have a strong inkling that Kelsey might whip my ass. "I was hoping you could tell me. At your father's event, you and Eli are trying to keep everyone from figuring out you took long hot showers together and the next thing I see is you two having a dark and uncomfortable moment, and he's been holed up in his office ever since. So what the actual fuck happened?"
The sick dread that's been curled in my belly since Davis showed me the story is stronger now, drawing all of me into myself, until my bones are pressing against my skin. I retrieve my phone and hand it to her. "My so-called fiancé is orchestrating this."
I say nothing as she reads the draft article.
She offers me that odd smile again as she looks up at me. "Sucks getting your heart stomped on, doesn't it?"
The hurt is back, raw and aching and fundamentally empty. I try to speak but no sound comes out. I cover my mouth with my sweatshirt-covered hand. Shame crawls over my skin even as my eyes water.
In a million years, I never would have thought of Kelsey as someone I could lean on. Laugh with. Share a drink with.
I damn sure never expected her to put her arms around my shoulders and let me cry myself empty.
Again.
* * *
Eli
* * *
When your world is going to shit, it generally helps to start drinking heavily. The trick is to remain intoxicated so that the shit storm looks all swirly and full of pretty colors. Or until you pass out and run out of fucks to give. Either option really works.
I left the party after Parker walked away from me. Left Deacon and Kelsey to clean everything up. I’m in the running for shittiest boss of the year award at the moment.
I am not nearly intoxicated enough for this shit.
I stare at the dark golden liquid in the glass as I hold it up to the light. "I guess they can say I gave it a good run."
My
words are slurred. I'm pretty sure I'm about ninety percent in the bag. Which is not nearly far enough.
What the fuck was I thinking? The war was eventually going to follow me home. Why am I surprised that threats of being exposed for my part in it would hit at exactly the worst moment possible? I mean, I couldn't have planned a more perfectly terrible time for it to hit.
Guess that's what I get for thinking I was smart enough to deal with it when it happened. I should have known better.
I should have known someone like Parker would never understand. Her walking away stings in a cut-out-your-heart-and-stomp-on-it kind of way.
"You always drown your sorrows in a hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey?"
I squint at Deacon, glaring at me from the doorway. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” Because once that article runs, my business is getting flushed down the crapper. I raise my glass in a halfcocked attempt at showing him where my priorities are at the moment but it tips too far, sloshing some of the golden liquid onto a bill on my desk. "Hope that wasn't important."
The glass is halfway to my lips before I realize that I'm lifting an empty hand. My glass is floating toward the desk, and Deacon looks like he's ready to do some serious damage if I try to take it from him.
"Pretty sure your liver doesn't appreciate the jihad you've declared on it," he says. "Now what the fuck happened that you decided to leave me and Kelsey high and fucking dry?"
"Pretty sure that's none of your business," I mutter, sliding down in my chair and resting my head against the back. Jesus-tap dancing-Christ, I'm a mess. My entire fucking life is ending because I got tangled up with her and all I can think about is that she’s gone.
"Actually, it is our business when our fucking boss decides not to come out of his office for twelve fucking hours." He frowns. "Where the hell have you been pissing? Never mind. I don't want to know."
"It was all bound to come out someday." I drag my hands over my face. I reach for the whiskey glass.
"Touch that fucking glass and I'll throw it against the goddamned wall."
And there goes my goddamned temper. "I'm not sure who the fuck you think you're talking to.” I am in his face, toe to toe with him. In the time I’ve known him, we’ve never once gotten into it like this. Sucks that this is how things end. “I'll drink if I goddamned want to fucking drink."
And because the universe is testing my resolve, the glass shatters against the wall.
But it's not Deacon who throws it.
It's Parker, who’s materialized out of fucking nowhere. And she looks as surprised about throwing it as I do. But I'm also not in the mood for any of her shit today, either. “Who the fuck let her in?”
“I let myself in.” She looks ready for war.
"You can let yourself right back out again, sweetheart."
“I’m not going anywhere. This is happening because of me and I’m going to fix it."
She hands her phone to Deacon, distracting him away from the fight. He frowns as he stares at it for several seconds.
I sink back into my chair and snag the bottle of whiskey, dragging it to my lips while they’re both distracted.
It’s a long moment before he hands her phone back to her. "Well, that certainly is a clusterfuck." He breathes out hard and drags his hands through his hair. "Look, Captain Jack over here needs to sober up before we can do much of anything."
"I’ll take him upstairs," Parker says quietly. "This is my fault. For once in my life, I'm going to stay and fix this."
"You ever babysit a drunk before?"
It's disconcerting to listen to them talk about me like I'm not sitting right there. Okay, maybe I’m no longer really sitting. More like listing to one side, but still.
"Yeah. Actually, I have." She lifts her chin. "You run the bar, keep things normal. I'll stay with him."
Deacon jerks his head toward her phone. "What do we do about that?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll figure something out."
She doesn't sound confident. Neither does Deacon, for that matter.
I don't offer anything. Better to contribute silence than the utter lack of hope that's a tight band around my chest.
I manage to stand, and reach across my desk to pat Deacon on the shoulder. "Thanks for bringing Sorority Barbie. But I don't need a babysitter."
"Now who's being a dick?" Deacon slips his arm around my waist to keep me from stumbling and guides me to the stairs that lead up to my apartment. "Go. Sober your ass up and let's figure this shit out." He grunts as we collide with the corner. And by we, I mean his shoulder. "I'm not quitting on you."
I press my lips into a flat line. "Thanks, man."
I trip up the first step as Deacon goes to run my bar, and Parker is there, breaking my fall with her shoulder, propping me up. "Come on. Don't break your neck."
It hurts, having her this close. Knowing how badly I fucked everything up.
Knowing that nothing I can say or do is going to fix anything between us. Hurting because just like everyone else in my life, she left when I didn’t quite meet expectations.
I do the only thing that comes natural to guys like me.
"It's all a show for people like you, isn't it? Drag out the tattooed veteran. Fuck him for funsies. Then head back to your real life as the congressman’s fiancée? Is that how this goes?"
Lashing out doesn’t feel good, but it feels normal. It’s so much easier than admitting how much it slays me to remember her walking away.
She fishes my keys out of my pocket and unlocks the apartment door.
“Being an asshole doesn’t become you,” she says mildly.
Next thing I know, I'm facedown on the couch where I first touched her, darkness swirling up around me to draw me down into the abyss.
And now I know what regret tastes like.
Chapter 28
Parker
* * *
Thankfully he's asleep. I'm not sure I can handle any more verbal slaps. He's not a funny drunk, that's for sure, but I didn't expect him to hit below the belt. That hurts.
And it hurts sitting here, listening to his breathing, waiting for him to wake up. Hopefully sober. Hopefully ready to explain things in a way that makes sense.
A car passes beneath the apartment window. The light runs from one side of the apartment to the other before disappearing into the darkness outside.
Memories are colliding with reality. The last time I sat like this it was with Meaghan, the night she did a few too many pain pills.
I'd had no one to call that night, either.
I rest my head on my knees, pulling them up against my chest. Painful words fill the silence but it’s better than the hollow beating of my heart.
"You know, I didn't really know what I was getting into when I signed up for the job. I wanted to learn about The Pint. I wanted to write a great report for my thesis." I close my eyes. "I was so damn happy to get the internship with you, and you never had a clue. You thought it was just because I wanted to sleep with you." My chest tightens. "You've never thought much of me. Of girls like me. No one does." I suck in a hard breath, trying to dislodge the ball of ice around my heart. "You look at me and see some empty-headed Barbie." I close my eyes. "I thought you were different."
There's a quiet knock on the apartment door and I get up to open it. Kelsey is standing there holding a plate of cheese fries and two beers. "Figured I'd come keep you company."
"Aren't you supposed to be helping Deacon with the bar?"
"He's roped in some of the other guys for help tonight. Besides, it's Thursday." Thursdays are usually pretty quiet.
I take one of the beers and let her in. We settle at the small kitchen counter. "These are quite possibly the best cheese fries I've ever had."
Kelsey grins and takes a pull off her beer. "It's the sadness. It makes everything bad for you taste better."
"I thought that was hunger."
"Nope. Sadness is the best flavoring for all the salt, sugar, and fatty thin
gs that are slowly killing us all."
I raise my beer. "Here's to a slow death, covered in melted cheese and bacon."
Our beers clink together, and the silence descends again. "So Eli has this really bizarre ability to find us."
"‘Us’?"
"Vets. Former soldiers, mostly. It's like we've got some weird homing beacon that draws us into The Pint." She stares down at the cheese fries. "He's saved more than one of our lives. Just by giving us the space to figure out who we are without the uniform. But by being there, too."
"Did he save yours?"
"Mine's still up for grabs. Death hasn't decided if she wants me yet or not." She glances down at her forearms like the tattoos belong to someone else. Then she smiles up at me, the flash of sadness gone. "And that's a little emo, given the current situation." She scrapes some of the cheese off the plate with one of the remaining fries. "So what are you thinking about with regard to the Eli situation?" she finally asks.
“You know this is really about me, don’t you?” I ask quietly.
Kelsey lifts one brow. “What gave it away?”
I rub the beer against my forehead. “My fiancé is using this article as leverage. He wants me home, away from this place. If I don’t do what he says, he’s going to ruin everyone’s life.”
Kelsey raises her beer in mock salute. “Nice boyfriend you’ve got there.”
I smile flatly. “Yeah, well, any doubts I was having have been reified into full-blown anxiety attacks.”
“I guess I don’t understand why he wants you that badly? I mean, no offense or anything, but this is a little stalker-esque.”
“My dad is a powerful defense contractor. They’d be better off marrying each other but instead, I get caught in the middle of their alliance building.”
“Survivor: Marriage Market, huh?”
“You have a great way of making things seem less serious than they are.”
After I Fall: A FALLING NOVEL Page 18
