by Haley Jenner
“She died when I was a kid, fourteen. She was beautiful and sweet and everything good in my life.”
I rest my chin on his chest and he meets my eyes with a sad smile.
“We went from being this happy family of four to being two lost little boys with Satan himself as a father. Her death changed him, changed all of us really.” He shrugs, shifting upward. I move to give him the access to do so, waiting as he props himself against my headboard before I move in beside him, wrapping the sheet around my naked body.
“Not only had we lost our mom, we were inserted directly into Hell. The day we buried her…” He closes his eyes softly, rejecting the memory forcing its way forward. “Was the day my dad died too. What we knew of him anyway. In his place was the devil reincarnate.”
“Parker,” I breathe, pulling his hand into mine. He takes it easily enough, threading our fingers together, looking at the contrast of our skin.
“How’d she die?”
His hand drops from mine immediately, his thumb and forefinger pressing against his tightly shut eyes. Opening them again, a glint of moisture covers them and my heart cracks.
“Murdered. Someone shot her.” My hand flies to my mouth and I barely hold in the tortured sob that threatens to escape my throat. I think what’s worse is the void in emotion when he speaks of something so brutal with a complete detachment.
“They blew her face off, whoever did it, they shot her in the face.” He looks at me, his eyes drilling into my skull, searching for something I’m not certain he’s sure of.
I feel sick. My stomach churning with hurt for a fourteen-year-old Parker being subjected to such violence. His mom wasn’t just taken from him, she was stolen. Her life was taken without consideration that she had a family; a husband, sons that needed her. What kind of monster would do such a thing?
“Did they find them? Who did it?”
His lips curl in disgust, bottom lip pushing out on a quick shake of his head. “We know who did it. Cops couldn’t prove it.”
“Oh! Parker.” I throw myself at his body, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into his skin. “I’m so mad for you. That’s heartbreaking.”
He doesn’t touch me, his hands staying purposefully at his sides as he breathes through the anger firing through his body.
“We’ll get revenge. We’ll make them pay,” he speaks quietly, the words a loaded threat that I don’t doubt he’ll carry through.
Pulling back, I meet his eyes. “Good. They deserve pain and misery.”
His brow furrows in surprise before they turn sad. “They’ll feel that in spades, Sugar. Everyone will.” His hand reaches out, gliding a hand against my cheek, holding it there.
“Hey.” I reach up, my hand grabbing onto his and squeezing. “Don’t feel sad for them.”
He closes his eyes on a sullen laugh. “Baby, I don’t feel anything for them. I feel sad for me. I’m all but signing my own one-way ticket to hopelessness.”
I shake my head, disagreeing with him before he’s even finished speaking. “No. You’ll finally have justice for your mom. Only let the peace of that in here,” I place a hand over his heart, leaning down to kiss the same spot.
“Could you do it?” he asks, the soft tortured whisper floating across the space in agonized curiosity.
My brow furrows at the hollowness deepening his eyes. “Do what?”
His tormented gaze skates over my face on a continual loop, working to read whatever his heart seems to desire. No. What he needs. There’s a desperation in the panic that swirls in the gray depths holding my attention hostage.
“Take revenge.” He finally speaks, the words scarcely audible. But as quiet as they were spoken, unease spreads up my spine with the threat dripping along the words.
“If someone took Ryn from you. Permanently. If they put a bullet to her skull, took her life and left you lost and broken.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, the pain leaking into his words forcing me to consider, for a moment, if that were true. I imagine the monster he sees as part of him would most definitely live within me. How could it not? How could the darkest part of you as a person not fight its way to the forefront of who you are? Every dark, damaged and broken thought would fuel its anger, its hate, its despair, until you no longer recognize the positive parts of who you once were.
I clear my throat against the sudden onset of emotion. “I wouldn’t need to. My dad—”
“Take him outta the equation, Codi. It’s just you and Ryn.”
Silence weighs heavily between us. The kiss of space separating us soaking in what very much feels like a question of life and death.
I know what he wants. He wants me to say yes. No, declare it. Vehemently. He wants me to admit, convincingly that I would seek a bloody and vengeful end to those who would harm my family.
Like him.
I should say yes. Of course. How could anyone question my commitment, my love for my sister? That’s what he wants. But could I do it? Play God in that way. Could I take the life of another? Even in the name of revenge?
“I would want to,” I admit. “But no, I don’t think I would.” Shame spreads over my skin as I whisper those last words.
His eyes close. Guilt washes over him so significantly I can taste it in the air.
“Not because I think it’s wrong,” I continue, waiting for his eyes to hit me again. When they do, they’re skeptical, swimming in the unshed tears readying themselves to drop.
“I’d be too weak,” I confess. “I’d fold. I’d crawl into a ball of grief and misery and that’s where I’d live my days.”
I lean forward, kissing away the tears that have managed to escape, the ones dripping along his unshaven jawline in a slow and steady rush.
“I would hope if that happened, if someone stole one of the most important people in my life, I’d find the strength to inflict pain on them in a way they’d never forget.” My head drops, my eyes locked on my hands held nervously in my lap.
A knuckle finds my chin, lifting it to bring my eyes back to his.
“But my backbone isn’t that strong. I’m weak. I’m emotional. I’d fail Ryn because I’d be too damaged, too afraid to give her the vengeance she would deserve.”
His breath has paused in his body. His large body completely still. It’s eerie, the intensity of his feelings shocking him into stone. Yet, I can’t decipher where the force of his emotions are aimed.
Finally, after what feels like forever, his body exhales heavily, sagging in relief.
“Because your good in here.” An inked hand presses firmly against my heart. “Your heart is what’s right in this world, Sugar.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “No. Love like you have for your mother, even in death, that’s what’s special. You’re fearless, Parker. You’re strong and determined and you’ll do what’s right. For your mom.” The vehement belief in my tone, heightens my voice, haunting the empty space.
“Wish I could keep you forever, Codi.”
I sit back again, my eyebrows drawing in, in confusion. “Why do you do that? Talk like our relationship has an expiration date?”
He looks uncomfortable with my question, his eyes darting downward, avoiding my scrutiny. “Don't all relationships?”
I think about his question, at the hesitation in the statement. “I like you, Parker. A lot. I'm in this relationship hoping that it's more than long-term. This isn't a fling to me. If it is to you, we should probably just end it now,” I declare, a little more than hurt at his easy dismissal. “I'm not interested in letting my heart become invested if you have no intention of letting yours do the same.”
He laughs then, his head tipping back letting the sound escape into the room. It’s sarcastic, unhappily amused. “Heart’s invested, Sugar, trust me. More than it should be.”
I frown at why that makes him seem so down. “Good,” I state, my hands finding his cheeks and pulling his stare down to mine. “Let's not act as though we're doomed
before we even really start.”
“Doomed.” He laughs sardonically. “Baby, my life was doomed the day someone killed my mom. Knew my life would never be the same, couldn’t imagine how fucking empty it would really be.”
“Parker,” I soothe, moving to touch my lips to his. “Don’t say that. You have me.”
He kisses me back, his tongue dancing softly against my lips before pulling back. “Wish you knew what you brought to my life.”
“Bring, Parker. What I bring.”
He pauses, his stormy eyes staring into mine. Finally, he nods and I relax, my breath filling my lungs.
“Do you believe in redemption?”
I pause on his question, considering my answer. Truth is, I’ve never given the idea of redemption much thought.
“I guess it depends on what you’re really looking for. Atonement?” I question, but he remains silent.
“Who can actually give you that?” I shrug. “Are you looking for forgiveness in yourself? Or from a greater power? God?”
His stoic silence echoes between us, so I continue. “I think the belief of one’s redemption is up to interpretation. You could do something to hurt someone and have zero guilt. Do you still need redemption? Or because you’re comfortable in your decision, in your actions, is it irrelevant?”
“Make sense,” he coughs out. “What about if you feel the guilt? If you know you’ve done wrong.”
I stop to consider my words once again. “I guess it really depends on what you’re looking for. Do you really want atonement? Or do you just want to relieve your guilt? There’s a massive difference, Parker. Awful people do awful things all the time and never offer consideration to those they hurt. Look at the monster that killed your mom. Does he want redemption? Does he deserve it even though he may not care for it?”
“I think, really, what it comes down to, is forgiveness inside of yourself,” I continue. “You can do wrong by someone, apologize a million times over, you can make amends until the day you die, but if that person doesn’t want to forgive you, does that mean you don’t deserve it? Maybe you only ever really come to the point of atonement when you find it in yourself to forgive yourself for your actions.”
He watches me intently, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he gnaws at it. “What about from a greater power?”
“God?” I ask and he nods. I shrug. “If you believe in God.”
“You don’t?”
“I’ve never thought hard on the subject. I find it difficult to place my faith in something I can’t see or know. I prefer to place it in myself. In the people I love. If I can’t find faith in myself, why should I trust something I can’t be certain is real? You’re responsible for who you are, the actions you take. I think we should own that. I think we should strive to be the people we want to be. If you love you, if you respect yourself, if you trust yourself, the faith in who you are as a person is all you need.”
“What if you lose faith in yourself though?”
I clear my throat, letting my mind wander. “Then you place your faith in the people that love you, that care for you, to love you through your darkest hours.”
I let his eyes scan urgently over my face. His hands move to follow his eyes, his callused palms dragging across my skin affectionately. His lips move in to do the same and his breaths come harder as he rushes to see, touch and taste me everywhere. He loves me with his eyes, adores me with his hands and worships me with his lips. He handles me in a way that shows me he loves me, he hasn’t said it, but are words really the way you hear someone’s love? For me, I always imagined I’d feel it more than any words would convince me and in this single moment, this definite, frantic sliver of time, I more than feel it. I feel overwhelmed by it and I couldn’t be happier.
The next morning I walk Parker to the door, hand held in his, disappointed that I have to work today. I’d much rather spend today as I did yesterday.
In bed. Wrapped on and around Parker. My body still tingles with his touch, my nerves buzzing with overused but unfulfilled need.
God, I’ve become insatiable. Needing, craving his touch.
He smiles down at me as we reach the door, looking at me in a way that makes me wonder if he can read my thoughts.
A blush casts along my cheeks and his grin comes on wider. “Love when you think of me in that way. You can’t hide it, your body wants me to know,” he shares, his inked hand coming to drag along my cheekbone.
“Morning,” Camryn grumbles, walking past us without so much as a glance, focus set on the kitchen.
“Ryn,” Parker greets and I smile at his use of her nickname. He seems to have slid into mine and Camryn’s lives without issue, at complete ease and I like that. A lot. I wish I felt as comfortable in his space as he is in mine, but considering he lives with Satan’s sidekick, I’ve come to terms with Rocco taking time to adjust to my sugary self.
Parker leans down to kiss me, pulling me up and into his body as he does so. Once upon a time, I would’ve been embarrassed with Camryn standing in the same room while my boyfriend kisses me the way Parker does; openly, intimately, hungrily. But I can’t find it in myself to even give her a second thought when he touches me, he’s all I see, all I feel.
He pulls back with a gratified smile, pleased that he’s worked me up to a point of desperate need. “Random fact, I can’t whistle.”
“Really?” I laugh. “How odd. I can’t wink,” I admit sheepishly.
“That’s a lie.”
I shake my head, pausing to meet his eyes before I attempt the fruitless endeavor. Both eyes close as I work to close only one and he laughs loudly.
“Don’t try and do that. Ever again. It was painful to watch.”
I hit his arm, but he grabs it, pulling me close once again to inhale the scent of my hair and dropping a kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll hear from you.”
I nod, gnawing my bottom lip between my teeth as he disappears through the door.
“Do you think you can fall in love too fast?” I turn toward the kitchen.
Camryn pauses lifting a cookie to her mouth, turning on her stool to face me completely as I wander over. “Who has the right to tell somebody else if it’s too fast?” She shrugs, an irritated look of judgment crossing her features. It’s not directed at me, more the thought in itself causing distaste in her mind. She places her cookie on the counter, her arms crossing over her chest as she gives me her undivided attention. “I think you need to correctly identify the difference between lust and love,” she continues, the contemplative tone in her voice stirring my thoughts as I sit beside her.
“How do you know the difference?” I test but she smiles with a shake of her head.
“I think it's something relatively personal, Codi. For me,” she places her hand on her chest, eyebrows raising in emphasis. “I can hate someone, but lust after them. They can railroad my thoughts constantly because I want them to fuck me. The sex can be mind-blowing, but it loses its appeal pretty fast after. That’s lust, not love. Not to me.”
“I can't imagine Parker’s appeal will ever be lost to me.”
She considers me for a moment before her head nods in understanding. “Love is different for everyone I'd imagine. The basis and the basic human need for affection and care would be there for most. But love to me is a decision my heart makes. It makes me crazy with my need to be with someone and not just intimately. It makes me want to share my life, my thoughts, my secrets.” She swallows deeply. “I want them to creep into my thoughts at any given opportunity and I wanna do the same for them. I want them to know when to love me and when to give me space. I want them to understand I'm a crazy, messed up bitch, but love me anyway. I want them to see that my demons aren't what define me. I want to know that they can see through the darkness in my soul and realize I have something good to give.” Her words pause for a breath, her eyes closing over in thought before opening again. “Honestly, I want to be borderline obsessed, because they should be the most
important person in my life and I in theirs. I want them to feel everything I feel, but more.”
What she just said was the most real and beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. She’s right, at least I think so, love should be consuming. Overriding your heart, mind, and soul. “My heart hurts when I'm not with Parker and it feels this overwhelming sense of relief when I see him again. I feel a little lost when we're apart,” I admit and she smiles.
“Babe. You’ve been in love with Parker for weeks now. It’s shooting out of your purple eyes like glittery rainbows.” She grabs her cookie from the bench, taking a large bite, her eyebrows dancing.
“It is not,” I defend, embarrassed at the portrait she’d just painted.
She laughs, cookie flying out of my mouth, hitting my face. “Oh,” she coughs, covering her mouth. “Sorry.”
I wipe my face. “You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re in love. Sickeningly so. Same, same,” she shrugs.
I ignore her teasing, wondering if she’s right, have I been shooting laser beams of love at Parker? And if so, is Parker freaked the hell out or happy about it?
“But I still feel at times I barely know him. Does that mean I’m falling too fast and stupidly?”
Placing the half-eaten cookie back on the counter, Camryn turns back to me, grabbing my hands in hers. “Fuck timeframes, Codi. If you love him, love him. He’s allowed to be a little closed off, babe. People are entitled to their secrets. Let him open up to you in his own time.”
Eighteen
Parker
“I’ve missed you,” Mira offers softly as the waitress saunters away.
I grab her hand across the table, squeezing tight. “Me too. Sorry I haven’t been around much, I—”
“Parker,” she cuts me off, her free hand coming to rest on our conjoined ones. “You don’t have to explain that to me. I get it, sweetheart.”
I nod, guilt wracking through my body. It’s true, I hate that my need to avoid Marcus at any given cost cuts off my time with Mira. Maybe that makes me weak. Maybe I should just suck it up, but I can’t seem to be able to push past it. I hate him. With every tiny morsel of my soul. I despise him. He knows it too, truth be told, it only makes it harder for Mira when I’m there. She defends me from every insult he throws my way. I know what that costs her, have told her countless times to let sleeping dogs lie. I don’t give a fuck what the guy says or thinks of me. His words mean nothing to me. Less than. But she insists on defending me, on calling him out when he throws his pathetic slurs, thinking I give a shit.
