by Linda Kage
“Damn.” He drew out a long breath before pressing a fist to his mouth and laughing dryly. Then he dropped his arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to become a life coach?”
I preened. “Well, when you learn from the best, you’re bound to pick up a couple of tricks of the trade.”
This time, his laugh was more genuine. But then he grew serious all too soon. “Fuck, El,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I know you’re right. I just have to have an honest conversation with her. But I’m scared to death.” When he glanced at me, his brown eyes were full of turmoil. “I can’t lose her. I am so completely gone for this woman. But what if it turns out she just doesn’t want me the way I want her?”
“Pfft.” I waved a non-concerned hand. “I totally cannot imagine her being that stupid, otherwise you wouldn’t be so interested in her in the first place. Of course, she wants you back.”
And even if she didn’t, he still needed to find that out sooner rather than later. Not that I was going to tell him that part; he’d chicken out for sure. What he needed the most from me right now was a big ol’ dose of over-inflated confidence.
“Everything will be fine,” I assured him, reaching out to pat his hand.
He sent me a questionable glance. “You didn’t hear what I said when I drunk called her last night. I got her voicemail and left a message with all these stupid questions, basically asking if she thought we should just end things when that is the very last thing I want. Then, she called back to confront me, and I blurted out that I loved her.”
I frowned. “Is that the first time you told her?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Really?” I sat back, considering that. From the way he’d always talked, I thought his relationship was always so solid. I just naturally pictured him waking up next to her and saying it every morning. “Huh.”
“What?” he asked, watching my bewildered expression.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “It’s just extremely apparent to me that you’re crazy about her, so I can’t imagine that she didn’t already have a clue. How did she react?”
Parker winced. “I’m, uh, I’m not sure. I got scared and hung up on her before she could.”
Wow. He really was terrified of being rejected. “And she didn’t try to call back?”
“Oh yeah. She did. Repeatedly. And then she texted. But I hid my phone from myself. Hell, she might’ve even come over to check on me, but I passed out before that. I’m pretty sure someone was there; they took my shoes off for me—’cause I certainly don't remember taking them off—and they set them nice and neat next to the door to my room where I never put them.”
“See.” I brightened, nudging his arm. “She does care.”
“I know she cares,” he reluctantly admitted, “I just don’t know if it’s as much as I want her to.”
“Well, you’re never going to find out unless you ask her.”
He groaned and tossed his head back. “But I’m just so fucking—”
The ringing of a phone from his sports bag cut him short. He sliced his gaze that way and paled.
“Answer it,” I encouraged.
He turned back to me, already breathing shallowly. “What if it’s her?”
“Then definitely answer it.” Spotting his phone tucked into a side pocket, I turned spontaneously bold and lunged forward, snagging it up.
“Hey—”
“It’s her,” I said, showing him the screen, where the letter B showed up as the caller. Apparently, since she was such a secret, he couldn’t even type her whole name into his address book.
“Shit!” He wiped his hands over his face, visibly shaking. “I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say.”
“Start with hello.” And I slid the little call button over, answering it for him.
His eyes flared with disbelief. If he killed me for this afterward, it’d be worth it. But I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while he lost his Bea.
Keeping his gaze, I held the phone out.
He closed his eyes briefly, then took it from my hand.
“Hello?” His voice cracked so bad he couldn’t even get the full word out.
He listened for a moment before snapping his gaze up to me in a panic. “You want me to come over right now?”
“Yes!” I whispered, waving my hands to urge him to take her up on her offer. “Go.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I can be there in a few minutes.”
“See.” I nudged his shoulder as he hung up. “She wants to see you. This is good.”
“Or she just wants to break it off for good in person.” His complexion was tinged green; I wondered if he might actually vomit.
“It’ll be okay,” I assured him. I mean, what else could I say? That it could all just as easily go to hell in a handbasket? That kind of attitude wouldn’t help at all. And even if things did fall apart, it wouldn't matter if I’d been reassuring beforehand or not; he’d still have to deal with the fallout the same no matter what kind of platitudes I had offered.
“You can do this.”
He nodded as if boosting his own confidence. And then he pushed to his feet. “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Next week,” I promised.
But I was no longer a part of his universe. He jogged to the door of our reserved room and disappeared right before I realized he’d completely left his bag, water bottle, clipboard, and everything behind.
“Oh!” Scooping it up in a rush, I shoved everything into the unzipped portion of his duffle and surged to my feet to chase him down.
Catching him at the entrance of the gym, I called, “Parker! Your stuff.”
He glanced back and paused. “Shit.” Returning to me, he rolled his eyes with a small smile of thanks and said, “I’d probably forget my head right now if it weren’t for you.”
“Nah, you’d manage just fine,” I said with a warm, affectionate smile as he took his things. “Good luck.”
He took in my expression, then stepped closer and hugged me. “Thank you, El.”
We had never hugged before. If he’d been in the right frame of mind, he probably wouldn't have even tried. A year ago, hugging probably would’ve sent me into a panic attack.
But now, I embraced it fully. Because I knew I could trust him, and also because Gracen Lowe had taught me that I could still hug after all.
Even after a night of boozing, then probably skipping a shower this morning before running and a brief one-on-one game of basketball with me, Parker still didn’t stink. His deodorant was holding strong, and he smelled pretty nice actually. Otherwise, I might’ve suggested he get cleaned up a little before heading over to see Bea.
But I think he was good to go, so I patted his arm and pulled away. “Now get out of here already and get that girl.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bella
MEANWHILE
It took Fox less than ten minutes to reach my house from the moment we hung up with each other until he pulled to the curb, but I paced the entire time regardless.
I was just so nervous.
When I’d first been awoken last night to my phone ringing, I’d gone back to sleep with a groan, refusing to get up and answer it. But then someone had left a message, and I started to wonder and worry that something might be wrong.
Heart beginning to race when I saw that it was from Fox, I feared what he might say after a full week of radio silence. And I nearly had a meltdown when I’d pressed the receiver to my ear and heard the words, should we do the healthy thing and just stop.
Because, seriously, what did that mean? To me, it sounded a hell of a lot like he wanted to break things off? But I had absolutely refused to believe that. I’d been so confused. And scared.
I had replayed the message to hopefully gain some perspective, only to hear how slurred his words were.
Son of a bitch! He was drunk. Again.
That’s when the fear had turned to anger. I called
him back, and from that point on, everything just snowballed into a shitstorm.
I’d always known he was okay with having an out-in-the-open relationship with me. But I also thought he’d been okay with keeping it under wraps for a while, too. He’d never pushed, anyway. Until recently.
But last night…
Last night, he hadn’t held back what he really thought. And when he’d hung up on me after blurting out that whole falling in love bit, I felt like I’d been knocked out flat by a nine iron.
I’d called back.
Of course, I had called back. I couldn’t just let it end with that. I even texted, demanding that he answer his phone. But I’m kind of glad he hadn’t because I wasn’t all too sure what I would’ve said back to him last night if he had.
I grew worried after that. What if he’d fallen down and actually hurt himself? It was obvious he wasn’t sober at all. Which was a concerning fact all by itself. The birthday drinking, okay, I could understand. But overindulging two weekends in a row?
That wasn’t like him at all.
I myself had descended into that hole for a bit a few years ago. There were still blank spots in my past because I’d drunk so much that I had no memory of what I’d done. It’d been a scary, awful era, and I absolutely did not want that what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into-last-night kind of regret for Fox.
This was a sign that something was seriously wrong in his life, and that something was me.
I shuddered and hugged myself as I watched him exit his truck and round the front bumper before making his way up my sidewalk.
I had called his brother-in-law when Fox hadn’t answered any of my calls last night. And I’d told Beau that Fox had drunk dialed me—which he had—probably on accident—hey, I was living proof that was possible—and that we’d gotten disconnected abruptly, so I worried he might need help. And I’d managed to convince Beau to go over there and check to make sure Fox was okay.
I was so worried that I’d even been willing to risk revealing our relationship to the world if a drunk Fox ended up unloading all his woes about me when Beau arrived.
But Beau had called me back twenty minutes later, saying all was fine. Fox had been in his bed, passed out cold, and still wearing his shoes, lying wrapped around his pillow like he was hugging a teddy bear.
A part of my heart had cracked then and there, picturing him drunk and alone, consoling himself with a freaking pillow.
Tipping his head so the bill of his new hat would shade his eyes from the bright sunlight, Fox made his way to my front door now, with a brisk stride.
I only needed to take one look at the T-shirt and jogging shorts with tennis shoes he was wearing to remember—
“Shit,” I announced, opening the door before he even stepped onto the front step. “It’s Saturday morning. You were with your one client at the gym, weren’t you? I just made you leave work.”
“It’s fine,” he assured me, looking up to pierce me with those penetrating, dark brown eyes of his. “We can reschedule later.”
I nodded and stepped back, holding the door open for him to enter. He crossed the threshold but stopped only a few feet inside, where he uneasily rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face me.
He didn’t say anything, leaving it up to me to start the conversation, which was fine. I’d called him over here because I’d practiced what to say and was ready for this. But now that it was here, I kind of freaked out.
So I started with, “Do you remember talking to me last night?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. But then he nodded. “Yeah. Most of it, anyway. Enough to know I owe you about a thousand apologies.”
Narrowing my eyes, I pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you apologize to me once, I will legit punch you in the stomach.”
With a dry laugh, he lifted his hands helplessly. “So I’m not allowed to regret being a complete ass to you?”
“I think what you were,” I started slowly, “was being completely honest with me. For about the first time in nine months. Weren’t you?”
Guilt laced his expression as he jammed his hands into his pockets and stiffened his shoulders before admitting, “I guess. Yeah. I think I was.”
I nodded, understanding, but then tears filled my eyes. “Dammit,” I muttered, lifting my arms to press the heels of my palms against the center of my forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be no strings, no worries, no complications. Just...the perfect situation. Where no one could get hurt. I wasn’t supposed to get hurt. You sure as hell weren’t supposed to get hurt. But look at you.” I flung out my hands aggressively, taking in his bloodshot eyes and rumpled workout clothes. “I’ve made you absolutely miserable.”
His eyes filled with compassion, and the tears in my eyes poured down my cheeks as he stepped toward me. I shook my head, denying the comfort I already knew he was going to offer. I didn’t deserve it. Not from him.
But he pulled me into his embrace anyway. I shuddered and sank into him gratefully, greedily soaking up his warmth, even though I knew I wasn’t worthy of it.
“I love you,” he murmured into my hair, making me squeeze my eyes shut and grip the front of his shirt for dear life. “And I will take strings, and worries, and complications, and all the miserable downsides that come with caring about someone. Because you’re worth it. But I need to ask you one thing first.”
I pulled back just far enough to look up at him.
“And don’t fucking lie, okay?” he said, steadily, looking me straight in the eye. “Don’t hold back because you’re worried about my feelings or how it’ll make you look. You feel what you feel, and I know it’s not something you can control. It’s not something you have to be ashamed of or afraid of or anything like that. It’s fine, no matter how you answer. I just—I need to know, okay, so I can deal accordingly with whatever you reply. Please…” He cupped my face in his hands. “Just tell me what’s going on in here.”
My eyes flooded again. “What’s going on in here is that I’m scared to death,” I choked out. “You scare me.”
He squinted his eyes in confusion and then shook his head. “How do I scare you?”
“Be—because you’re too much.” I brushed him off me and took a step back so I could think and not be so overwhelmed by his amazing presence. He let me go, watching me the whole time as I hugged myself. “You’re just too fucking much.”
Pain shot through his expression. I groaned and dug the heel of my palm back into my forehead. “Dammit. I’m messing this up.”
“I don’t understand,” he finally rasped, blinking rapidly as if he might start crying with me. “I’m too much of what?”
“Everything,” I cried, backing away and cupping my head, my breaths coming in tight bursts of panic. “You’re just—”
“Bells,” he murmured, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay.”
“No,” I cried. “It’s not. I’ve never been scared like this before. And I hate it.”
A single tear slipped down his cheek. He fisted his hand and set it against his mouth before whispering, “What am I doing wrong?”
“That’s the problem,” I ground out, waving my hand dramatically to display him to the world. “You’re doing everything right! Everything about you is so fucking right. And perfect. And amazing.”
His hands fell limply to his sides as he cocked his head in confusion. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes! What I felt for Ethan is only a fraction of what I feel for you, and he nearly destroyed me. If what happened to me there happened again—with you—I wouldn’t recover. This—us—is so much more than anything I ever had with anyone. I never knowingly gave you that much power over me, but you seem to have it, anyway. And I—damn it. I’m just not ready to drop the secrecy yet, okay? I’m not—I’m not—God.”
I wiped at my face, trying to calm myself down, but all the feelings and frustrations and fears just bunched right back up inside me aga
in.
“I don’t even know how to deal with it myself yet, how to make sense of it in my head. I can’t handle outsiders—even if it’s just damn family whom I love to death—knowing and picking around, giving their opinions and viewpoints and—it’s just so big. I’m not ready yet.”
Fox was so quiet after that, I was half-convinced he was going to turn around and walk out the door, giving up on me completely because I still couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted.
But then he lifted a single finger and opened his mouth for a full second before finally saying, “So let me get this straight. You’re saying everything is actually great between us. You think I’m perfect and could probably handle me sexing you up all day, every day. But we still have to wait to tell the family until you grow enough lady balls to admit to yourself that you love me back?”
I blinked. Then sighed and rolled my eyes. “I take offense to so much of what you just said, but, yeah. Basically. All that.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Well, cool. I can deal with that.”
My nose wrinkled. Then I lifted my eyebrows when he added nothing else to his response. “Really?” I finally snapped. “That’s all you’re going to say? Because last night, you had plenty to say.”
“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “Exactly. I said all I wanted to say last night, so what else is there to say now?”
“What about how much you hated keeping secrets from the family, and lying to your brothers? I know that didn’t just go away in one night.”
“No,” he agreed, stepping toward me. “I still hate having to lie to them. And I can’t wait until I can worship you properly out in the light of day where everyone can see. But now that I’ve heard your reasons and know for sure that the secrecy is only temporary, I can handle it for a while longer. And who knows, maybe by the time I start getting impatient again, you’ll finally be ready to come out.”
I set a stern hand on my hip and cocked up an eyebrow as he took another deliberate step closer. “And if I’m not?” I countered.
