“I’m happy you found me,” I whisper. “You saved me.”
He pulls his hand from mine and I feel something painful fissure through my heart.
“Are you really happy?” he asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.
“Of course I am. What, do you think…” I swallow. “Do you think I wanted to die out there? That I wanted to be attacked and left out in the snow?”
He rises to his feet and starts to pace. “I don’t know what the fuck to think, Zoe. All I do know is, at any point in the four hours you were out there wandering in a fucking blizzard, sad and scared and upset… you could’ve called me. I would’ve dropped anything to come find you. No matter what.” A muscle jumps in his cheek. “You chose not to do that. And then, some man attacks you…” He looks at me with ghosts in his eyes. “You’re a fighter. I’ve known it since the second I clapped eyes on you. And yet, today, when you were cornered, when you were knocked down… You didn’t get back up. Didn’t call for help. Didn’t fight.”
My heart is pounding too fast and I feel dangerously close to falling apart. “What are you asking?” I force myself to say.
His eyes hold mine captive. “Did you stop fighting? Is there a part of you that wanted to slip away, out there on that street?”
Horror surges through me as I feel my eyes start to fill with tears. They spill down my cheeks in a rush, but not a single one of them has a chance to hit the floor because suddenly Parker’s there, his hands cupping my cheeks, his face a hairsbreadth from mine.
“Shhh,” he breathes. “It’s okay, Zoe. It’s okay.”
“I just…” I cough on a sob. “I was just so tired. It was too much. My parents. That night. Replaying in my head like a horror film, over and over. It rattled me. And so, when he dropped me into the snow… I guess there was a part of me that was just too damn tired to get back up.”
Parker’s big hands hold my cheeks, so I can’t look away. “Zoe.” His voice breaks on the word. “Next time, you call me. You can’t find your feet? I’ll be there to pull you up. You can’t walk? I’ll fucking carry you.” He comes closer, until I can’t see anything except his eyes, and I’m pretty sure they’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my twenty-four years of life. There’s redemption and forgiveness in his gaze — no judgment or fear.
My broken pieces don’t scare him.
He doesn’t pretend they don’t exist.
He sees me for exactly who I am… and he’s here anyway.
“You think the world is too ugly to exist in anymore? I’ll be here to remind you how fucking beautiful it can be.” His voice is a vow. “I promise, darling. I’ll be here. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I should’ve…” More tears spill.
He stares at me and I can’t decipher the look in his eyes. “Do you want this, Zoe? This beautiful, messy, crazy life? Because I’ve seen what depression does to people. I’ve watched it tear families limb from limb. My family… When my mom…” His jaw clenches tight as he bites back words he can’t let himself speak. “I have to know you want to be here. That you’re still willing to fight. Everything is fixable… but you have to want to fix it. You have to want to be here.” He hauls in a breath to steady himself. “You have to want it, darling. More than all the shitty days and the heartbreaks and the awful fucking horror of losing people… you have to want to live anyway.”
“I do.” My voice is shaky, but it’s full of truth. “Parker… I want it more than anything.”
He doesn’t respond and, for a moment, I worry he doesn’t believe me. But then, his arms come up and he crushes me against his chest in an embrace that steals my breath.
“Okay, Zoe,” he murmurs against my hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
And as he holds me close, reminding me of all the reasons the world is pretty fucking amazing, I feel the weight of something I’ve been carrying around for twenty years lift off my shoulders.
This beautiful, messy, crazy life with this beautiful, messy, crazy man?
I want it.
16
The Hero
Later that night, I wake to Parker’s head between my legs. It’s late, the middle of the night, but any sense of fatigue or residual anxiety from the day before is driven out by the sensation on his mouth, moving with expertise. I feel needy under his touch, with my hands in his hair and my body totally at his mercy. It doesn’t take long for him to send me barreling toward the brink of pleasure. My toes curl, my hips arch, and I feel myself starting to losing control.
“Come up here,” I pant, trying desperately to form coherent thoughts as my orgasm builds.
He grunts something unintelligible, never pausing in his efforts.
Holy shit.
“I want to see your eyes when I come, honey,” I breathe. “Please, Parker.”
At that, he goes still.
“Fuck,” he mutters, crawling up my body, planting kisses as he moves from my thighs to my stomach to my breasts to the column of my throat. When his face comes level with mine, I see restraint and passion warring in his eyes.
“You can’t say my name like that and expect me to stay in control.” His voice is thick with need.
“I want to finish together,” I tell him honestly. “I want you inside me.”
“This is supposed to be about you.” His voice is hoarse. “I’ll survive.”
“I know you’ll survive. That’s not the point.” I arch up and kiss him. And then, I say something I’ve never said before. Something, if I’m being entirely honest, I never thought I’d find myself saying.
“Make love to me, Parker.”
His eyes darken as his control snaps. A few seconds later, he pushes inside me, holding my gaze the entire time, and I look up at him knowing we can never go back to being strangers. It’s not just sex. Not just passion or pleasure.
It’s Parker.
Somehow in the space of a week, he’s got both hands wrapped firmly around my heart.
I have a feeling he’s not going to let go.
Not ever.
And strangely… I’m okay with that.
* * *
Christmas Eve dawns bright and cold outside the loft windows. I leave Parker asleep in my bed and make my way into the bathroom. In the fluorescent light, the faint bruising around my neck from where my attacker held me looks even uglier than it did last night. Thankfully, the thin slice wound just below my jawline isn’t visible unless I tilt my head back.
I hop in the shower, turning the water almost as hot as it will go, and stand under the torrent for a while. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ death – by all accounts, the worst day of my year.
And yet… the dreadful weight that usually fills my chest from the moment my eyes open on this day simply isn’t there. Instead, there’s a light, fluttery feeling inside my soul, crowding out the sadness.
I know that feeling has everything to do with the tall, bronze-haired man sleeping in my bed.
As though he’s heard me call him in my thoughts, a few seconds later Parker steps into the shower behind me and slides his arms around my stomach.
“Good morning.” His voice is still husky with sleep as he plants a kiss against my neck.
“Morning,” I breathe, leaning into him.
“Are you okay?” He pulls back. “Sorry. Stupid question. I know today is impossible for you.”
I turn in his arms and loop my hands around his neck. “Surprisingly… I’m okay.”
His brows lift.
“Really.” I push up onto my tiptoes and try plant a kiss on his lips — except I’m too short to reach. “Bend down, you giant human, so I can kiss you.”
His eyes flash. “I’ll do you one better.”
Lifting me so my legs go around his waist, his hips pin my body as he backs me up against the tile wall. His lips find mine and I get my kiss… plus a hell of a lot more, as his hands move against my wet skin.
Af
ter our shower, we towel off in silence. I’m still grinning like an idiot from the after-glow of my orgasm.
“So, you’re gonna have to pack at least a week’s worth of clothes,” Parker says casually, running the towel over his damp hair to remove most of the moisture.
The grin falls off my face. “Excuse me?”
“Clothes.” He drops the towel. “Enough for a week.”
“I’m not following.”
“You can’t stay here alone.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because someone followed you here. It’s obvious they know where you live. Which means it’s not safe for you to be here.”
“I’m not leaving.” I swallow. “This is my home.”
“Fine.” He shrugs. “Then I’ll move in.”
“What?!” I gape at him. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Oh, darling, don’t test me.” He smiles, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “You’re not going to be out of my sight until this shit with Lancaster is resolved.” He pauses. “Maybe even after that.”
“What?!” I exclaim again.
He doesn’t answer. He just takes a few steps closer, bends down, and kisses me hard and fast. “I’m hungry. You want breakfast? I’ll make breakfast.”
Without another word, he strides naked out of my bathroom, leaving me slack-jawed and reeling.
“But—” I call after him, feeling totally helpless. “You can’t move in. I mean it, Parker!”
“You like bacon, right?” he calls back.
I sigh.
Fuck.
* * *
When my phone rings later that day, I grimace as I glance at the screen.
Parker looks up from his spot on my couch, where he’s been camped out watching old Christmas movies on my spare laptop for the past four hours as I pour over Lancaster files. He pulls off his headphones and raises his brows when he sees my expression.
“Who is it?”
I sigh. “Phoebe. Who on earth gave her my number?”
He laughs. “You do realize she’ll just keep calling until you answer, right?”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
He pops his headphones back in to give me a little privacy and returns to his movie as I connect the call.
“Hello?”
“Holy frack, I can’t believe you answered. I was pretty much positive you were going to ignore my calls until I was forced to come over there bearing cupcakes and scale the walls into your apartment with my bare hands.” She hauls in a breath. “Really happy you proved me wrong, though, because I don’t think many cupcake stores are even open today, what with it being Christmas Eve and all. Plus, I think channeling my inner Spiderman may be a challenge in Louboutins.”
“Hi, Phoebe.” I say dryly when she stops babbling.
“Oh! Sorry. Probably should’ve said hello before launching in like a lunatic.” She sighs. “Anyway, Nate gave me your number. He didn’t want to, but I was in a…” She pauses and her voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Persuasive mood.”
“Gross.”
She laughs. “Anyway, I just wanted to call and tell you how worried we all were about you. And also to apologize for yesterday. I feel fully responsible. We totally freaked you out with all that talk about relationships and true love. Seriously uncalled for, I see that now. Trust me, Parker was so unbelievably pissed at me when I called to tell him we’d scared you off, I’ll be surprised if he ever talks to me again.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Phoebe.” I glance at the man across the loft; he’s fully engrossed in his movie. “And he shouldn’t blame you for a thing. I think he was just…”
“Scared,” she murmurs. “Yeah, I figured that from the way he reamed me out last night.”
I sigh. “I’ll talk to him.”
“You don’t have to. That’s not why I called.” She pauses. I can tell she wants to say more, but is worried how I’ll react.
“Just say it,” I murmur tiredly.
“Say what?”
“The real reason you called. Just tell me. We both know you’re dying to get it out.”
She makes a grumbly sound of protest. “So sassy. Maybe I just called to apologize.”
“Phoebe.”
“Okay! Okay.” She clears her throat. “Is Parker, like, right there hovering over you?”
“No. He’s watching a movie.”
“The boy does love a good Charlie Brown Christmas marathon.”
“I’m getting that.”
“One year, he made us watch it seven times in a row because he said there weren’t enough—”
“Phoebe.”
“Right.” She clears her throat again. “The thing is, I really am sorry that I upset you yesterday. It wasn’t my intention at all. Clearly, all the talk about love and relationships made you bolt faster than Boo when he sees a squirrel in the Public Garden. And that makes me somewhat nervous to say what I have to say.”
I wait, knowing there’s more to come.
“But it’s Christmas Eve, and I think I’d hate myself if I went to sleep tonight without doing everything possible to make the people in my life happy. Because that’s what this whole damn holiday is about, isn’t it? Joy. Love. Togetherness.” Her voice gets lower. “That’s why I have to tell you that, even though it totally freaks you out… I don’t think I’m wrong. About any of it.”
I take a breath.
“You said you’re fucked up. That if Parker sees that, it might make him leave for good. And I just have to flat-out disagree with you on that point, Tink.” Phoebe’s words come out in a rush, as though she expects me to cut her off at any given moment. “The thing is, you’re kind of my hero. Maybe that’s weird for you, but I refuse to hide that fact. You saved my life. Nate says you’re trying to save thousands of other lives, in this case you’re working on with him. Parker says, beneath that tough shell, you’re a big softie who pays for strangers’ groceries and gives money to people on the street who need it more than you do.” She takes a quick pause. “In my book, that makes you a pretty big hero.”
My heart clutches inside my chest.
Wow.
“Thanks, Phoebe,” I whisper when I think I have my voice under control. It shakes anyway.
“Don’t thank me. Just… see yourself. See the woman you are. You’re pretty amazing. And, I won’t apologize if I want someone like you for my big brother.”
My hand tightens around my phone. I have to keep my eyes averted from Parker, afraid if I look at him I’ll start crying again.
“Still there?” Phoebe asks a minute later.
“Yeah,” I say, voice breaking. “I’m here.”
She pauses. “For the record… you’ll always be Tinkerbell to me. And Parker… well, he’s the perpetual man-child. The boy who never grew up. He’s Peter Pan.” I hear the smile in her voice. “That makes you guys Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. A perfect pair, if there ever was one.”
I laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“Peter and Tink were an unstoppable duo. A team. They were totally different… but they somehow completed each other.” She sighs happily. “Just think about it, okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Goodbye, Phoebe.”
Her voice is warm. “Merry Christmas, Tink.”
I swallow and make myself say it. And, surprisingly, it’s not as tough as I thought it would be to get the words past my lips.
“Merry Christmas, Phoebe.”
As soon as she clicks off, I set the phone down and walk across the loft to where Parker is sitting. Pulling the computer from his lap, I straddle his legs, push his headphones off, and wind my arms around his neck. Before he can say a word, I plant a soft kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he asks, smiling at me. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Do I need a reason?” I shrug.
“No.” His eyes narrow. “But you never kiss me first.”
“I don’t?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I hadn’t r
ealized.
He shakes his head. “No. You don’t.”
I stare at him and swallow hard, feeling like a terrible person. “Well… I’ll work on it.”
His brows lift. “Did Phoebe brainwash you during that call?”
I flick him on the forehead. “Oh, shut up, idiot.”
“It’s so sexy when you shower me with compliments.”
I laugh and snuggle into his chest. “It’s sexier when we shower together. Period.”
“Not arguing with that.”
Tilting my head, I meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I don’t want to be with you. This is… new to me.”
“It’s new to me too, darling.” He shrugs. “Just because something’s new doesn’t mean it has to be bad.”
“So wise, in your old age.”
“Old!” He scoffs. “I may be nearing thirty at an alarming pace, but I’ll never grow up.”
“Phoebe said…” I hesitate, not sure whether I should tell him.
His tone is amused. “Phoebe said…?”
“She called you Peter Pan,” I say quickly, before I chicken out.
His eyes get warm as he thinks about it for a minute. “Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.” A kiss lands on the tip of my nose. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that.”
My heart flips. I bring my mouth to his and kiss him.
“I’ll never admit it if you tell her,” I whisper. “But I like it, too.”
“Don’t worry, darling.” He grins against my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
His arms tighten around me and his mouth lands in my hair. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I — we don’t need to. He holds me close and hits play on the movie, and I feel something warm inside my chest in a place that used to be iced over with sadness and fear.
* * *
“Shit.” My eyes widen. “Holy fucking shit.”
“What is it?” Parker walks toward me and crouches beside my computer. “You find something?”
I glance at him. “I found the employee medical records. All of them.” I swallow. “If you believe these reports, every Lancaster Consolidated worker is the perfect picture of health.”
One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) Page 21
