Chapter 23
A night without stars
That was what her life had become, a night without stars. Scout could still smile, but it was an empty expression, pained by so many tiny fractures along her heart. Her laughter, for the most part, was hollow. She tried in vain to recall what happiness felt like, but the mere thought triggered a string of memories that seized her breath and put unbearable pressure on her heart.
She didn’t want to break. Her mind filled with unholy images of her heart splitting like sheets of ice choking a river, ripping apart until gaping blackness showed through. Not being able to process recollections of the past few months without pain meant her recollections of happiness were, for the most part, gone, blurred, buried beneath the ice that had so thoroughly smothered her heart.
But happiness had once existed in her. She just couldn’t imagine it.
Parker decided to spend the night. He was prepared to sleep on the couch, but when she said good-night and headed to the balcony, he froze. “Scout?”
It wasn’t like she never slept outside before. She was more comfortable there than under the roof of some apartment that didn’t belong to her, surrounded by walls and memories she couldn’t bear to face. She shrugged, unable to meet his gaze without feeling embarrassed. “It’s suffocating.”
Quickly turning away from his confused face, she padded over the threshold to her lounge chair. She was very tired. All she seemed to do anymore was sleep, which was fine with her. She welcomed the numbness.
Settling under the blanket, she breathed. Her eyes counted the stars in the sky. There weren’t many, yet they were innumerable, infinite. If a sky was without stars, would it still be called night? Could there be laughter without glee, smiles without joy? Like a starless night, she was falling into something dark and unremarkable, a smudge that blocked the warmth of the day.
So unmoved by all things lately, she couldn’t find the nerve to really care. Sometimes darkness was peaceful. She was the starless night, cold, still, without a single flicker. It was so tempting to drown in the oppressive darkness swathing her mind. The thought was enticing enough to make her sigh and shut her eyes, darkness pulling her under.
A shadow passed over her face, and she cracked open her lashes. Parker was standing over her, frowning.
“Are you really sleeping out here?”
Her shoulder lifted beneath the blanket. “It’s safe up here. It’s not too cold. Why not?”
He scoffed. “Because you have a home to sleep in.”
She didn’t have the energy to defend her crazy behavior at the moment, so she just stared back at him. He sighed and lifted the covers. “Move over then.”
Surprised, but slightly glad for the company, she shifted to the left of the wide lounge chair and Parker scooted in beside her.
As she shifted her hips, searching for a soft spot to settle in to, his soft sweater and familiar scent warmed her senses. Heat collected between them. They’d never rested so close. It was different, yet for some reason welcomed by her body.
Parker’s lean form fit against hers. “Thanks for finding me, Park.”
“I could never lose you completely.” His breath was warm over her cheek.
Scout shut her eyes. Images of Lucian played with visions of her past, visions of Parker, of the tracks, of her life as it was before billionaires and broken hearts.
Her mind stumbled as fingers gently tugged the hair peeking from the brim of her wool cap. She blinked into the dark.
This was new. Parker never really touched her before. It was foreign, but at the same time familiar. She should probably scoot away, but something about his touch, the presence of another body close to hers, was selfishly coveted and she couldn’t ask him to stop.
She relaxed, letting his gentle touch soothe her in a way no one else had offered her comfort in days.
“It’s okay to talk to me about it, Scout,” he whispered.
She didn’t open her eyes or acknowledge his statement, but heard it all the same.
“I’ll be there for you, through anything. I care about you and don’t want you to be sad.”
I know.
She did know, but offering words of validation, proof of a rational train of thought, only made her feel like a traitor. Part of her believed she needed to feel this pain right now, as though it were a rite of passage to teach her that this was why she should not have fallen in love.
Thoughts blended into nothingness, and slowly her consciousness faded and fell away. She became aware of time passing only as the distant sound of vehicles occasionally moved over the streets below. She slept. For the first time in days she truly slept.
Her nose tingled, winter’s kiss pressed upon her chilled face. Her back was burning up and a heavy weight rested across her legs like lead.
Lucian? No. Parker.
She opened her eyes and caught the pink haze of dawn tingeing the blue night into shades of crimson over the city. The temperatures had dropped overnight, and vapor formed as each breath passed her lips.
Something was different inside of her, lighter, almost hopeful. Was it because Parker was there?
“You up?”
Scout slowly rotated her head until Parker’s green eyes came into view. They were very close, closer than they’d ever been. Small flecks of brown, olive, and gold swam in his emerald irises. She nodded.
Neither of them moved. She wondered if he was cataloguing all the awkward traits of waking up so close to her. His gaze moved over her face. “Your nose is red.”
She sniffled. They should probably go inside where it was warm, but she feared climbing out from the protective blanket.
Suddenly his body stretched, hard planes curving along her softer parts. His head tipped back and he groaned, shaking slightly as his muscles extended. Then he was standing.
The absence of his body’s heat was jarring. A chill immediately took his place. She snuggled under the blanket and watched him continue a round of motions meant to awaken his limbs.
“This sleeping outside shit is for the birds, Scout. I think I’ve done enough involuntary camping in my life to know better. I’ll take a roof whenever it’s offered.”
“You could have slept on the couch.”
He shrugged. “I came to be with you. You were out here.” His back cracked. The cold definitely had a way of making a person stiff. “I’ve got to use the bathroom. Do you have anything to eat here?”
She stared up at him. Didn’t he know her world was in shambles? Who could think about food at a time like this? Yet, her life didn’t seem as much a mess as it had yesterday.
“There’s stuff in the pantry and the fridge. Help yourself.”
A few minutes after Parker disappeared into the house, she shifted into a sitting position and slowly stood. Wrapping the blanket over her like a shawl, she headed inside.
He sat at the counter, hunched over a bowl of cereal. He’d put on weight since last fall.
“This milk’s about to expire. You better use it up.”
She frowned.
“So,” he said with a mouth full of mushed flakes. “Should we go job hunting for you today?”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I took off until Monday. I figured you probably needed a hand. Sorry it took me this long to find you.”
She still didn’t know how he’d managed that. “How did you find me?”
His shoulder lifted with nonchalant grace. “Word gets around.”
He was being cryptic, but before she could ask more, he said, “Do you get a paper? We should look over the want ads.”
“I don’t get the paper.” She shot him a telling look. What would an illiterate person want with the paper?
“Don’t give me that look. You can read.”
“Parker—”
“Scout,” he said knowingly, mimicking her tone. “I’ve heard you read. Don’t act like you’re illiterate when you haven’t been for quite some time.”
She scoffed. “Compared to you I am.”
“So? Just because you aren’t the best reader doesn’t mean you can’t. Eat breakfast and we’ll go get a paper.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His head tilted and his spoon stilled, a pile of bran-colored flakes dribbling close to the edge. “Scout, don’t be a waif. When food is offered to you, you take it. You know better than that. Don’t be dramatic.”
He shoveled the spoonful of cereal in his mouth, and she scowled at him, half tempted to tell him to get out, but at the same time terrified he might leave. Her face tight, she marched into the kitchen and retrieved a bowl. She ate beside him in silence, calling him all sorts of insensitive names in her head.
Her stomach rejoiced at the sustenance being offered. She was starving. Her brain just forgot to relay the message.
***
There were several job openings in the area, but only a few Scout felt capable enough to apply to. She and Parker sat on the carpet in the living room, various pages of classifieds strewn around them.
“You should think about getting a license. There are lots of openings for drivers.”
“I don’t have a car,” she said.
“They give you a car or a truck.”
“I don’t know. That all takes time. I need to make money now. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.”
Parker’s eyes met hers. “Did he give you a time frame of when you had to . . .”
She frowned. He said he’d be back in a month. She didn’t want to still be there by then, especially if he didn’t come back for her. Her heart would never survive more broken promises. “No. I’d just rather cut all ties.”
His gaze lowered. Turning away from her so she could no longer read his expression, he said, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. You know, you could be my roommate. I have a place. It isn’t much, but . . .”
“Thanks Parker, but I think I want to do this on my own. I know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under me. I don’t want to be in that position ever again. You know what I mean?”
“I would never abandon you like he did.”
She didn’t believe that, but didn’t see the point in telling him. “I just need to do this for myself.”
He nodded tightly. “How about waiting tables?”
“I’d have to write.”
He sighed. “You’re going to have to write with almost any job, Scout. We can work on it.”
“I can deal with a job that requires minimal reading, but writing’s different. I’m slow and incredibly self-conscious. I can’t spell.”
“Who cares? Not everyone’s a good speller.”
“I’d just rather not have a job that requires it.”
He looked back at the want ads. “Here’s an opening for models. You could be a model.”
She hit him in the arm. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. You could!”
“I don’t think so.”
He shrugged and grumbled something. “How about a clerk at a grocery store? Clemons is hiring.”
She thought for a minute. She’d have to scan things, but as far as reading, there wouldn’t be much required of her that she could think of. “How much is the pay?”
His lips pursed. “About an eighth of what you’d make modeling.”
“Forget the modeling!” She snatched the paper from him and searched. “Where is it?”
“Here.” He pointed, scooting closer.
“Eight dollars an hour, that’s not too bad. I made more at Patras though. Maybe I should see about getting my old job back.”
A sour taste filled her mouth the minute the words left her. No, she couldn’t work in Lucian’s hotel ever again. What if she saw him? What if she saw him with someone else? Nausea swirled uncomfortably in her stomach.
“I don’t think you should work at the hotel again.”
“Yeah, I know. It was just a thought. This looks good.”
Parker took the paper and tore out the advertisement. He jotted down a list of things she’d have to write on a résumé, like a fake social security number, her address, a sentence or two about why she would be a good candidate for the job. It would be much easier to fill out an application if she had the answers spelled out for her.
“Do you have a phone?”
“Yes.” She went to the counter and found the phone Lucian gave her. “I don’t know how much longer it will work.” It was sad seeing her empty mailbox. “Here, the number’s on the back.”
Once they had everything organized, Scout cleaned herself up. She didn’t know if she would be interviewing on the spot, so she chose soft brown pants, a cream sweater, and camel-colored boots. They were clothes of courage Lucian had bought her. She needed courage.
She didn’t feel like putting on makeup, but she had to do something about the bags under her eyes, so she dabbed on some concealer she found in her purse and smeared a bit of gloss over her lips. That would have to do.
***
The stockroom of Clemons Market was cluttered and smelled slightly of cardboard and some sort of citrus oil. Mr. Travis Gerhard, a man who looked to be in his early twenties, was the assistant manager. After she filled out her application, he directed her to the stockroom he referred to as his office.
There was a chunky brown desk in the center and schedules surrounded by other notes tacked all over the yolk-colored walls. The drop ceiling had watermarks, and the gray metal filing cabinet wedged in the corner was dented and scraped along the side.
He leaned back in a wrinkled leather chair, his loafer-clad foot crossed over his knee. He wore a pale pink, short-sleeved button-down dress shirt with a gray tie that might have been a clip-on. He didn’t look old, but he carried himself as though he were in his forties.
His top lip was covered with a brown mustache, and his eyes were magnified behind thick, wire-framed glasses. His hair was parted severely on the left of his crown.
As he read over her application, the quiet stockroom filled with the incessant flick, flick, flick of his pen as he twitched it between his fingers, tapping the edge of the paper.
Her memory retreated to a familiar place where a similar pen flicked. She was suddenly in Lucian’s office, beneath his desk. Her mind jerked out of that vivid memory and back into the present.
“It says here you’re twenty-three?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded, but didn’t look at her. “What did you do when you worked at Patras? That’s quite a different atmosphere than what you can expect at Clemons.”
You aren’t kidding. “I was in housekeeping.”
“And why did you leave your last job?”
Fuck. “I, um, I could still go back there. I left on okay terms. I just . . . it wasn’t for me.”
He looked at her then, his plain eyes swimming behind the augmented lenses of his glasses. “Being a floor clerk is no easy job, Evelyn. I wouldn’t want you to assume this job will be any easier.”
She held back an eye roll. “I’m sure it isn’t. I’m a hard worker, Mr. Gerhard. I just didn’t fit in so well with the people at Patras. I wanted a change of setting. That’s all.”
He smiled softly as if he had a secret. His smile didn’t show teeth. It was really just a curve of his hairy lip. She smiled back nervously.
“Call me Travis.” Leaning forward he placed the application on the desk. When he spoke, the scent of spearmint laced coffee wafted at her, but she remained still, plastering a serene expression on her face.
“Evelyn, I think you might be a good addition to our team here.”
Relief rose within her like a swarm of butterflies, but she held her breath as she noticed the manager’s reluctant expression. She waited, foot tapping incessantly, as he went on.
“You’ll be under a trial period for the first ninety days, in which you’ll report to me and I’ll be keeping a close eye on your performance. Clemons is a family name, and our customers depend on the community feel they get here that they don’t necessarily find at the more corporate grocers. It’s important that you always smile and make the customer feel as though they’re important. That’s the Clemons way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dress code is gray slacks and Clemons pink-issue dress shirt with a Clemons apron. Your appearance matters. If you’re ever working around the deli or fish department, you’re expected to wear a hairnet and gloves. You’ll likely be at the register for now, although you will have to stock from time to time.”
He stood and went to the dented filing cabinet. The drawer made an obnoxious scrape as it slid opened and rattled closed. When he returned to the desk, he was holding another form.
“You’ll need to fill out the proper tax forms and return with them before you start. Payday is the second and fourth Thursday of each month. Lateness is docked, and days off must be cleared ten days in advance.”
He slid the tax paperwork across the desk. She’d have Parker help with that. When he leaned back, he examined her. There was something very artificial about him, like his skin was made of wax. His eyes creased the way eyes did with a smirk, but he wasn’t smiling under that mustache, from what she could tell.
“I want you to know that I’m the type of manager who cares very much for my employees, Evelyn. If you have any problems I want you to come to me with them.”
“Uh, okay, Mr. Gerhard.”
His mustache curved. “Travis.”
She nodded. “Travis.”
“Good. How does Monday sound?”
After a sharp and fleeting thought of Tamara Jones, her GM at Patras who was so normal and sweet, Scout plastered on a smile. “Monday sounds great.”
“Great! Welcome to Clemons.”
She took his extended hand. It was dry and chafed her palm. She breathed in the unwelcome scent of spearmint and coffee.
Parker waited on a bench around the corner from the store entrance. He was reading a tattered paperback. As she approached he looked up. “Hey, how’d it go?”
“I got it!”
He smiled and stood, pulling her into a brief hug. “That’s great! When do you start?”
They began walking in the direction of her apartment. “Monday.”
“Good. How was the interview?”
She burrowed her hands into the pockets of her corduroy jacket as they strode briskly along the walk. “Fine. My boss is sort of weird.”
“Well, you like weird bosses, no?”
Her face tightened at his joke. “Lucian wasn’t weird. He was . . . unconventional.”
“Pretentious.”
She frowned and nudged him with her shoulder. “No, I mean he was unexpected. He isn’t the way people see him.”
They crossed the street in silence. “I think you glorify him for reasons he doesn’t deserve.”
Keeping her gaze down, she shrugged. “Maybe, but I can’t see him as the untouchable man the rest of the world sees him as. He isn’t like that. He’s caring and loving and—”
“I don’t need to hear anymore. Tell me why your new boss is weird.”
They turned onto her block. “I don’t know. I think he’s around our age, but he acts older. He’s serious in a way I just don’t get. How intense could the world of groceries be?”
“Maybe it’s been a rough berry season?”
She laughed as they entered her building. “I have paperwork I need to fill out.”
“I’ll help you with it.” They took the elevator in silence.
Parker casually removed her coat after unlocking the door. She stilled, not expecting him to do such a thing.
The apartment was quiet as it always was. She couldn’t wait to be gone from there. Be gone from all things Lucian. She faced Parker and came up short. He was right behind her.
She waited for him to say something. The sun was fading and they should probably turn on a lamp. Thinking that was the perfect reason to turn away from his confusing stare, she did just that.
The spell broke, and he moved to the pantry and began rummaging in the kitchen. “We should have gotten some milk while we were there.”
She took a seat at the counter and watched him as he pulled out various containers and stacked them on the counter.
“Do you plan on cooking something?” she asked.
“Aren’t you hungry? I’m starved.”
She said nothing. She considered her hunger, but her appetite was being a finicky bitch. She knew better than to turn down food though. “Do you know how to cook?”
“Sure. What’s not to know?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can heat up canned stuff, but I don’t know how to use kitchen things. The oven scares me, and once I put something in the microwave and a huge blue spark snapped.”
He laughed. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
Scout smiled as her stomach clenched in agreement. “Sounds delicious.”
Parker threw down a mean grilled cheese. The soup was from a can, but perfectly thick and warm, heating her insides up just right. They ate and talked about safe topics like the weather, St. Christopher’s, and Pearl.
“Have you been to visit her lately?”
“Not since I left. The place she’s staying at is far.”
“I could take you,” he offered.
She met his gaze. “How?”
“I could rent a car.”
“Parker, that would be a fortune. It’s not in the city.”
“So. I have money.”
“Don’t waste your money on me—”
He caught her hand before she could reach for the other half of her sandwich. “Hey, it wouldn’t be a waste. It would make you happy and that would make me happy. Money’s meant to be spent, Scout. Let’s go see Pearl. I miss her.”
The fact that he could actually say that and mean it did things to her insides she didn’t quite understand. Pearl was such a troubling part of who she was, yet Parker got it. He’d always gotten it. Pearl was her mother and that was that.
She smiled shyly and nodded. “Okay, I’d like that.”
After dinner she helped Parker do the dishes in comfortable silence, then took a shower. As she stood in the door to her bedroom, she stared at the large, undisturbed bed dominating the space.
He left her and was never coming back. The dull familiar pain came as usually with the thought. She missed him.
Scout changed into soft cotton pants and a loose fitting T-shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, her gaze routinely being pulled to her bag. Her eyes skittered to the door and back to her bag.
Slowly she placed the brush on the nightstand and picked up her bag. She dug in the deep pockets until the weight of her phone filled her hand.
Examining the object for several long minutes, she thought. What was he doing at the moment? Was he alone? Was he happy? Did he still think about her?
Her thumb slid over the screen bringing the device to life. Under contacts she found four numbers, Lucian Cell, Lucian Office, Penthouse, and Dugan. Other than that there was nothing.
Three bars showed in the top left of the screen. Her thumb trailed longingly over his name. What if she called?
Before she considered what she was doing, she pressed the number that said Lucian Cell and brought the phone to her ear. It went immediately to voice mail.
“Hello, you’ve reached Lucian Patras. Leave a message after the tone.”
The sound of his voice was like a blade slicing through her. Warmth pulled like blood, and pain ran cold, turning her veins to ice. She ended the call and tossed the phone aside.
She couldn’t keep doing this. She needed to move on. He was in France and apparently not alone.
Standing, she went to the living room and found Parker sitting on the couch. Lamplight pooled around him. He was reading. As he heard her approach, he looked up from the pages of the same tattered paperback and smiled gently.
“Hey.”
“What are you reading?”
He flipped to the faded cover. “To Kill a Mockingbird.” He gestured to the space beside him and Scout settled in.
This was good. This was familiar. This, reading with Parker, was one of her favorite pastimes.
“Should I start back at the beginning?”
His finger was wedged against the spine, showing her he’d already read half the book. “Just catch me up.”
He sighed happily and placed his arm over the back of the sofa, drawing her close to his side. Again, she noticed the odd way he’d taken to touching her, but her skin was so starved for contact, she didn’t object.
The cover of the novel was faded green and orange with a crude brown tree taking up space. He’d mentioned this book to her the day they first met. Her lips curved as she recalled the arrogant way she’d talked to him, thinking he was just some punk trying to steal her shoes.
“Well, the story takes place around the thirties. There are two kids and their father’s a lawyer. He’s trying to teach the kids that you always fight for what’s right even when you know you can’t win. The main character’s name is Scout.”
Scout turned and looked at him. “Like me.”
“Yes.” He smiled and pressed her back into the curve of his shoulder. “Atticus, the father, gave Scout a small gun, but he told her she couldn’t shoot the mockingbirds because they’re harmless. That’s where the title comes from. As the story goes on, Atticus takes on a trial defending a black man accused of raping a white woman. The kids go to the trial and are convinced of the man’s innocence, but Atticus loses because the world is unfair.”
“It’s a book about crime?” Scout asked, confused. By the title she’d thought it would be about birds.
“It’s a book about people and understanding others. Boo, the neighbor, is a recluse. He’s terrified of the real world because he was never allowed to be a part of it, but he isn’t a bad man. Scout’s father tries to teach her about life, but there are so many miscarriages of justice along the way.”
Parker shrugged and slid his thumb from between the pages. “That’s it basically. Scout learns life is unfair and good people protect those more vulnerable than the rest.”
She scowled at the plain cover and eerie tree. “Do you like this book?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then why are you reading it?”
“I like Scout and Atticus.”
She smiled. “Why do you like Scout?”
His thumb rolled over the beveled leaves of the cover. “She’s tough. She doesn’t care about social niceties, but is fascinated by human nature. She defends those who can’t defend themselves. And she’s fun.”
Heat crested her cheeks. He was describing her. “And what about Atticus?”
“Atticus is great. His moral compass leads the story. He holds respect for anyone that deserves it, even the poor. He’s . . . consistent.”
“Was your dad like Atticus?” They rarely spoke of his family, but she was trying to understand why he would like such a story.
He laughed without humor. “No, my father was nothing like Atticus. My father was greatly influenced by others’ wealth, and he had about as much moral fiber as a rock. Atticus believed that a person’s nearness to evil destroyed innocence.”
“Do you see me as that Scout?”
His lips curved slightly. “In some ways. Sometimes I guess I think of you as Scout and myself as Atticus. I want to protect you from evil and keep you innocent.”
Her brow knit at his words. She wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Leaning back, she scowled at him. “I’m not a child, Parker.”
“I know.” His agreement was quick and somehow sad.
Just once, she’d like to point out to him all the not-so-childlike things she’d done in her life. Maybe then he would stop acting like her keeper. Her anger quickly dissipated. She didn’t want to fight. “Are you going to finish it?”
He looked down at the book, its frayed, yellowed pages smoothed into a thick block. “Eventually. I’ve read it so many times I can just enjoy parts here and there. I don’t need to read it through. Did you want me to read it to you?”
“No.”
His expression appeared crestfallen, but his mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you want me to read something else?”
Her mind played over everything he’d just said, his words about poor little Scout trying to make sense of the unfair world, how majestic and wise Atticus was. She thought back to an argument she and Lucian had not too long ago. Her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t we read The Great Gatsby?”
She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly in such a prickly mood. Perhaps she was just poor Scout trying to make sense of it all.
His brow lifted. “We’ve read that before and you didn’t like it.”
“I know, but like boats and all . . .” she loosely quoted.
“Are you making fun of me, Scout?” His expression was playful, but she saw a flash of insecurity in his eyes.
“Were you making fun of me when you said that?”
“When I quoted Fitzgerald?”
“Yes. ‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’”
He frowned. “No, I was merely pointing out that we all are meant to be a certain way.”
Lucian’s words fell from her lips. “Maybe we’re all meant to choose who we are, but we have to break out of the mold we were born into to get there.”
“I think life’s easier if we just accept who we are.”
“And who am I, Parker? Do you see me as some naïve little girl who stupidly throws herself against the currents of this fucked-up world only to get trampled in the end?”
He stiffened and sat up. “God, no, Scout. Why would you even say that?”
She threw up her hands. “How should I know what you think?” There was no need to snap, but it felt good. “You go around spouting all sorts of literature instead of speaking clearly. You compare me to the children in the grown-up stories you read. Do I really come off so hopeless and naïve?”
His head shook. “Why are you suddenly angry?”
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted to scream because maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a dumb kid, too innocent to play in the real world. She blinked and, to her mortification, a blurry line of tears clouded her vision. She didn’t want to be the kid. She wanted to be the recluse, if she had a choice at all.
“Scout, I adore you. You’re not a kid to me. You’re my friend. When I quoted Gatsby, I was trying to be an asshole to Patras. He had you convinced he was this nice guy, and it was killing me to see you falling for his bullshit act—”
“Don’t criticize him when he isn’t here to defend himself. You don’t know him.”
He looked as though she’d slapped him. “Are you serious? Scout, he isn’t here because he left you. How can you defend him? Whatever, we don’t need to talk about him. I don’t care about him. I care about you. Please, don’t think that I would ever make fun of you. You’re my friend and I . . .” Whatever he had been about to say faded away. “Just . . . don’t. Okay?”
She sniffled and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Parker looked as though he wanted to hug her, but seemed unsure. Finally, she admitted, “I hate that he can make me cry like this. I’m not used to being this emotional.”
“I know you’re sad,” he whispered.
The heel of her palm rubbed at her eye. “He isn’t coming back for me. I don’t know why I defend him when he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. I just want to forget I ever knew him. I want to start over and get away from everything that reminds me of him, but my life is so empty without him. It’ll take years to rewrite those memories with new ones. He’s everywhere I look.”
Parker gazed around the apartment, his eyes cataloguing all the things that weren’t really hers. “I told you. You could live with me.”
“I don’t want that either. I want to be my own person.”
“Well, you can be. Get rid of all this stuff that reminds you of him and get new stuff.”
“I don’t have any money,” she said as though she were talking to a two-year-old.
“Well, you now have a job. You’ll get money. Things take time. It took me months to save up for my own place, but I did it. I don’t have much furniture, but it’s a home and it’s mine so long as I continue to pay the rent.”
He pressed his lips tight and drew in a breath. “Scout, if you lived with me, you could pay half the rent, and then the place would be half yours, as much as it is mine. You don’t need any of this shit he left you.”
“Parker . . .” She shook her head, but wasn’t really sure why she was so against the idea. She was miserable there, because she knew the place was really Lucian’s. What would he do if he came back from his little honeymoon in Paris and she wasn’t there? Would he know if she left? How long would it take for him to find out she was gone?
What if he never came back and she withered away there, waiting for him?
She glanced up at Parker, who was anxiously awaiting her reply. “Is there enough room for both of us—”
“Yes.”
He seemed to really think it was best she leave her place. He was probably right. She’d been there for almost two weeks, and the place never stopped being oppressive. Every corner revealed a hidden memory of Lucian, the door a looping nightmare of the moment Dugan deposited her there like a broken dove.
Anger and shame suddenly burned through her. She gritted her teeth with a renewed sense of pride. She would not be one of Lucian Patras’s thrown-away, soiled and broken doves.
Yes, she loved him, but he left her. She gave him all that she could give of herself, and it wasn’t enough for him. Yet, she never looked for more than what he could emotionally offer her.
She needed to get back to being strong. She needed to forget about this little detour into the lap of luxury and get back on track, back to reality, get back to being Scout.
She leveled her gaze on Parker, full of fresh resolve. “Okay. I’ll move in with you, but I’m going to pull my weight. I have an account with two hundred thousand dollars in it. It’s not mine, but I can—”
His eyes momentarily bulged then he shook his head. “Scout, I know what it would take for you to touch that money. Leave it. We’ll keep track, and once you start getting checks from Clemons we’ll square up. I’ve saved a ton of money since I started working. You can pay me back.”
She smiled. Parker understood her pride wouldn’t allow her to take, even from him. She was glad he didn’t fight with her about such things.
Energy suddenly coursed through her limbs. “Should we pack?”
He looked surprised. “You want to leave tonight?”
She met his gaze, knowing her smile was full of sadness, and admitted, “I hate it here. Everything reminds me of him. I want to forget him, Parker. You’re helping.”
His expression was gentle, but unreadable. Slowly, his fingers coasted over her cheek. “Okay, Scout.”