Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Parker

My phone felt larger than life. I sat on the front of my desk chair, staring at the words on my phone screen as they blurred together. My room felt small, claustrophobic, like it was spinning around me, as my thoughts paced in the same hopeless spiral over and over.

When the apartment front door flew open from the next room, and Cass’s voice came in calling, “Parker? Are you home?” it yanked me out of my reverie, my stomach sinking. I’d ignored all her texts. I hadn’t meant to, I’d just… been wondering what I could possibly say.

She was bigger than me. Her brand was bigger than just Express. She’d be okay if Express went under. I needed her more than she needed me. She’d be all right.

I wouldn’t, because I had no idea how to pay my family, let alone repay her too. But she’d be all right.

A knock on my door reminded me I’d fallen back into that reverie. “Parker?” Cass said from the other side. She was breathless. Had she run here? Probably when she’d found out I was gone. Maybe Athena told her. “Parker, are you in there?”

I had no idea what to say. Could I just ignore her? Maybe eventually she’d go away. But she had to know I was here—I’d had the living room lights on, and the shoes and jacket I’d been wearing out were by the door. I had to answer. But what was I supposed to say?

Screwed up. Sorry. Express is done. Want to get someone to take over my half of the lease?

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Parker,” Cass’s voice said, lower now. “I just want to know if you’re here.”

Ugh. The damn woman was too good to me. I pushed away from the desk and over to the door, and instead of words, I just pulled open the door. “Hey, Unicorn,” I said, voice wavering more than it should have. “Sorry. Thena was talking to me, so I had to bail.”

Cass, all dressed up in her latest Agape style—I hated that I could recognize designs like that now—she didn’t say a word. She just stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace, and apparently Parker Ferris had left the building, because whoever I was really needed a hug right now. Really needed Cass to hold me, not saying a word, just feeling her squeeze me tight, just breathing in the sweet smell of apple.

I didn’t know how much time passed. At some point, we sank into the bed together, Cass just holding me into her, still not saying a word.

I breathed her in. I needed her.

I just couldn’t afford to have her.

It was the sound of a truck pulling up outside my window that woke me up sometime later—that same damn truck that always parked outside my window and blocked half my view. I startled awake, looking around the room, pitch black. Cass breathed slowly, deep in sleep, her phone slipped from her hand behind my back. The screen lit up when I stirred in bed. Quarter to midnight.

The event. My head spun. Had both the hosts disappeared? What had I even been thinking, running out like that?

“Cass,” I whispered, pushing her shoulder lightly. “Hey. Cass.”

She stirred with a quiet murmur, cracking sleepy eyes at me. I wondered if anyone had ever looked so perfect, lying in bed in her day clothes, half her braid fallen out, makeup smudged, looking up at me drowsily. “Hey…” She reached a hand up and brushed it over my cheek. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

I didn’t need the way my treacherous heart fluttered at a mushy little pet name. I shook my head. “The event—”

“Athena handled it,” she said, shifting, opening her eyes a little more. She set her phone down on the nightstand and sat up with me, rubbing her eyes, smudging her mascara more. “I was texting with her while you were sleeping. She took over on hosting to thank everyone for coming and send them off…”

I slumped into her, suddenly feeling like the weight of the world was on me. “I am so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to just—”

“Shh.” She pulled me back into another embrace. “It’s okay, gorgeous. Just breathe. We can stay here.”

My eyes stung. Tears? Maybe I was about to cry. When was the last time I’d cried? I buried my face against her. “It’s not okay at all, Cass. I screwed up. It’s over.”

She held me tight against her, one hand stroking up and down my back in the way she must have found was most calming for me. I couldn’t believe she knew that. Nobody ever paid that much attention to me. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, Parker. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“We do. It’s kind of time-sensitive.” I squeezed fistfuls of her shirt, taking a long, wavering breath, holding back the urge to cry like I was sixteen again. “The contracts. Gary bought them out, last-minute, exclusivity. I’ve been trying all night to find some way to buy it back, but the bids… I don’t have the liquidity. I can’t make it, not even with leverage. I lost them all—all the contracts—Express. We can’t continue like—”

“Shh.” She squeezed me. “Parker. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s anything but okay. Express is screwed. We won’t be able to buy any of the repair parts for the models we already service, we won’t be able to sell any upgrades—”

“Parker.” She kissed my forehead, and somehow—frustratingly—it took the fight out of me, leaving me sinking into her with the licking flame of anger dying down to smoldering embers of frustration, resentment, just wanting to lie down and give up. “It’s okay. We’ll make it work.”

“We won’t. I screwed up, Cass. I don’t know how to tell my family. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to tell you—I saw all your texts—but I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“You don’t need to tell me anything right now. We can rest for the night.”

“My stomach hurts,” I mumbled.

“Have you had anything to eat?”

I shook my head. “I don’t eat when I’m stressed.”

“Can I convince you to eat something?”

I buried my face in her chest. “I can’t afford food now.”

“Ah… I think this might be an unhealthy mindset?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

She squeezed me. “I’ll bring you some leftovers. That’s just extra from something else, so it doesn’t cost anything.”

I just held onto her for a long time before I mumbled, “Are you trying to logic through my food-related guilt?”

“Um… yeah. Is it working?”

I sighed. “Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks.”

After Cass brought leftover lasagna and we sat together on the bed, sharing a big piece from the same plate, I felt a little more sober. I set down the empty plate and just sank into her side, counting my breaths.

“Sorry for having a breakdown,” I mumbled.

She took my hand and squeezed. “Breaking down is human.”

“I don’t want to be human. Can I be a robot?”

“Um… no.” She squeezed my hand again. “But I like you as a human.”

I rubbed my forehead. “What am I supposed to do, Cass? I was so close to paying off my debt, and now I’m just… just stuck right back in it all.”

“Parker…” She sighed, burying her face in my hair. I’d really come to like that feeling, for some reason. Ugh. Feelings were annoying. “You shouldn’t even have to owe them a debt or anything. They’re your parents. It was their responsibility to raise you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I said, my voice wavering. I was not going to cry now. Not like this. “They gave me an itemized bill. They tracked their expenses and everything, and once I started making some money online… I got careless and bought myself too many nice things, and they saw I was making money, so they handed me the bill. That’s weird, right?”

She nodded against me. “It is. That’s not what you do with someone you love.”

“Well, evidently, it is,” I sighed. “I mean, I get it. If I spent one hundred sixty thousand, four hundred and nineteen dollars on something and all it did was complain about having to eat vegetables, I’d want my money back too.”

“Well…” Cass had that distinct pause of I’m trying to think of a diplomatic way to say this. “I don’t think it works that way with children.”

“It’s my own damn fault,” I said, feeling my eyes burning again. I squeezed my fists tight. “Maybe if I’d kept a lower profile or something with my money, they would have assumed I was too broke to bill me. Or—hell, I should have just accepted their payment terms. If I’d spread it out over twenty-five years like they suggested, then it only would have been a few hundred a month. I could do that easily. But I was just impatient and hated the idea of being in debt to my parents until I was forty—I really wanted to just get it done sooner—”

“Parker,” she said, squeezing my hand, looking down into my eyes. “You know, it’s okay to cry.”

“No, it’s absolutely not okay to do that,” I said, tears biting at the corners of my eyes. “And I’m not doing it.”

“Um… you’re doing it.”

“It’s—raining.”

She looked up. “We’re inside, dear.”

“Dammit. I should have gone outside.” I turned and buried my face in her side. “I just want to be my own person. I’m tired of obligations. I’m tired of responsibilities, because at some point or another, it always means not meeting them. And then people don’t like you anymore.” Tears burned hot on my face, and I wanted to slap myself, because this was not the person I wanted to be. “It’s a lot… a lot easier if people don’t like you to begin with. Sets expectations. Keeps things manageable.”

She brushed her fingers through my hair. “Parker… I don’t just like you because of the things you can do for me, you know.”

“That’s the only reason any of us like anyone—or anything—” I gripped her shirt tighter, pulling her into me. “Isn’t it? It’s because they make us feel good about ourselves, it’s because we trust them to be there for us in an emergency, it’s because their company makes situations more enjoyable for us—and if you love someone no matter how much they hurt you and make things hard for you, that’s just abuse.”

“Of course. But there’s a big difference between willfully and repeatedly hurting somebody who trusts you, and accidentally falling short of expectations somebody set for you.”

“What difference does it make?” I crumpled up against her, just giving in now, letting myself cry like a child. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in debt, Cass. I just want to be my own person.”

“I want you to be your own person, too, Parker.” Her voice was soft, quiet, gentle, as she stroked my hair back. “And I want to be here while you are.”

I was quiet for a long time before I murmured, “I don’t know what I can give you.”

She squeezed me. “You’ve already given me so much.”

“Like what? It’s all gone now that Express—”

“Like…” she started, looking out the window, out at where the stars came out above the Port Andrea skyline. “Like cozy afternoons on the couch together watching our next episode of Guess. Like little trips out to coffee shops all around Port Andrea, sharing drinks with you. Even the shops thirty stories up.”

“I thought it was twenty-nine stories up.”

She kissed my forehead. “I’d go up thirty stories for you.”

“I wouldn’t. I’d sit down after twenty-nine and refuse to go one more step.”

She laughed. “And… helping me come to terms with who I am. That’s big. Holding me when I’m scared or insecure. I’m like that a lot, you know—insecure.”

I buried my face in her chest, just breathing her in. The physical feel of her hands on me, the smell of sweet apple—they were the only real things grounding me at the moment. “You shouldn’t have to be,” I mumbled. “I mean, you’re… not bad.”

“Oh, not bad, huh?”

I trailed my fingers through her loose, messy hair. “Eh… you’re pretty all right. I mean, a solid score overall.”

She hummed, stroking my back again. “Coming from you, that’s basically a marriage proposal, isn’t it?”

“Marriage sounds like so much work. Holding a wedding? Work, work, work.”

She kissed the top of my head. “I mean it, though. We all get insecure sometimes. I’m scared of being hated. You’re scared of being loved. I’m afraid of being alone, of having no one to rely on, and you’re afraid of not being able to be alone, of having people rely on you. We’re like night and day, Parker. But you need both of them to keep moving forward.”

I love you. The three scariest words in the English language kept drifting to mind. Well—they were really only scary together. I love coffee wasn’t scary. You wasn’t a scary word. But that one special combination of I, love, and you was something I’d promised myself I’d never say, because that was a burden I didn’t want to carry.

I didn’t realize, back when I’d made myself that promise, that I was still going to fall in love, whether I said it or not.

“I mean, hey, you’ve even kept showing up for me in the mornings,” she laughed. “And I swear you’ve been enjoying the morning miracle—”

“I have not.”

“I think you have, Stay-Puft. Your warrior poses are getting really good! I think they’ve really been helping you unlock your hidden potential—”

“Please, no more influencer talk. I will vomit.”

“You’d only be vomiting on yourself in your own room, scruff-ball. You’d just be causing yourself problems.” She pulled back from the tight hug we’d found ourselves in and bent down, laying a quick kiss on my lips. “Your work is incredible, but the things I want from you aren’t just that. They’re the things you have just by virtue of being you. It’s the way you know right away when I’m sad and immediately have something to make me feel better. It’s the way you make me feel safe and grounded and real when we’re together. It’s the way you’re you, and that’s all I want from you.”

I sniffled, wiping one eye, knocking my glasses askance and not even bothering to fix them. “Unicorn, I just finished crying. You can’t make me do it again.”

“I can do whatever I want. I’m an evil unicorn emperor.”

I wanted to believe her—wanted to believe all of it, that maybe, just maybe, I could fall in love with her and it would be okay. That it wouldn’t set me and my work back another ten years—that it wouldn’t trap me in something again.

“I’m still quitting the morning massacre routines as soon as we don’t need to keep posting them,” I rasped.

“Oh, I’m sure you are, dear.” She winked.

“Maybe that’s the good news about Express failing. Now there’s no reason to keep doing morning murder.”

“Express is going to be just fine, sweetheart.”

“You’re manifesting. This is another influencer thing.”

She laughed. “I mean it. It’ll be just fine. I promise.”

“An espresso machine merchant without espresso machines? A repair and maintenance service without repair parts? With a business model like that, maybe we could get Silicon Valley investors behind us, at least.”

“You’re very funny, scruff-ball. We’ll figure it out in the morning. For now, we should rest.”

“Figure it out? How in the world can you just figure it out?”

She laughed. “Well,” she said, meeting my eyes while she tucked my hair back, “I’ve heard from a very wise, scruffy little Grim Reaper that the best cure for feeling crap is breaking shit.”

I paused. “You—that’s my saying. You spend all this time trash-talking my saying, and now you like it? You apologize to my saying.”

She shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I’ve started to see the appeal in it.”

“I cannot believe you have the audacity to make a complete about-face on my saying.”

“Oh, well, with an indignant deadpan like that, I can tell you’re mortified.” She kissed me. I scowled.

“You can’t distract me from this with kisses, Unicorn.”

“Mm. I think I can,” she said, planting another kiss on my lips. “Sleep, Parker. We’ll be better prepared for this in the morning.”

I paused. “After another morning murder.”

“Morning miracle.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I mumbled, falling back into the bed. Cass sank down next to me, and when she held me into her chest, I just gave in and let myself melt into the sensation of her arms wrapped tight around me, carrying me safely into the darkness of sleep.