Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

PARKER

T he subway car jostled rhythmically, a comforting end to the exhaustive bustle of another long week. I leaned against the window, watching the blur of dark tunnels lit intermittently by passing fluorescent bulbs, and let out a sigh that fogged up the glass before me. My fingers danced over my phone screen, initiating a call to a number I knew by heart.

"Hey, Mom," I said when she answered, the warmth in her voice instantly soothing my frayed nerves.

"Parker! How's the city treating you?"

"Can't complain," I replied. "Work's good, the people are nice. And I joined a softball team."

"Look at you! Making friends and staying active," she cheered.

I smiled. "How's everything there?"

"Everyone's doing well," she continued, launching into a lengthy description of everything she and my dad had been up to, including the dance classes they'd decided to take. "I swear, that man may have two left feet, but he can still make my head spin. But anyway, enough about us. We miss you terribly, honey."

"I miss you guys too." The words were simple but heavy with truth.

"And what about David? How's he doing with his new job?" Her question, innocent and motherly, scratched at an irritation I'd buried beneath layers of understanding and patience. But my patience was wearing thin, as evidenced by yet another argument that morning.

"David is—always working." The words slipped out, laced with annoyance I hadn't intended to reveal.

"Sweetheart, have you talked to him about how you're feeling?"

"I can't, Mom. He's doing important work. Anything I say would just sound selfish." I pressed my forehead against the cool window, seeking some relief.

"Your happiness is important too, Parker. You both need to find balance. Life isn't just about work." Her voice held that gentle firmness that had guided me through countless troubles growing up.

"That's what I told him, but maybe I need to try again," I murmured, mulling over the wisdom she'd gifted me without even trying.

"Life's too short to be anything but honest with your heart. Remember that." With those parting words, she ended the call, leaving a silence that seemed louder than the rattle of the train.

I pocketed my phone and exhaled slowly, letting her advice sink in. The train pulled into my station, and I stepped off, carrying the weight of the conversation that needed to happen. I just hoped we could manage to have it without it turning into another argument. Either way, I could no longer afford to tiptoe around our issues. It wasn't fair to either of us.

A strange scent greeted me as I stepped into the apartment, the smell reminding me of my mother's flower garden back home. I paused, my hand still on the doorknob, as my senses were further assailed by the gentle strains of some acoustic melody floating through the air. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimmed lighting, but when they did, the sight before me was as disarming as the unexpected smells and sounds.

"David?"

He emerged from the kitchen, a steaming casserole dish cradled in his mitted hands, a sheepish yet hopeful smile tugging at his lips. There, in the middle of our modest living room, a table for two had been meticulously set—a tablecloth, candles flickering softly, and fresh flowers bursting with color, the source of the scent I'd picked up on.

"Surprise," David said, with a nervous chuckle, his eyes roaming over the romantic setup. "I know it's been—a lot, lately. With work and everything."

The words lingered, heavy with an unspoken apology. My throat constricted at the sight—this effort, this gesture. It was so intrinsically David, yet so foreign after the weeks of distance that had settled between us like an unwelcome guest.

"What's all this for?" I asked, my voice barely rising above the music coming from the speakers.

David set down the dish with care, as if it bore the weight of his confession. "I've been working a lot," he admitted, meeting my gaze with an intensity that seemed to strip away some of the strain we'd been experiencing. "And I know I've been neglecting you, Parker. I'm sorry. I want to make it right. I want to make you happy."

His words were like a balm, soothing yet jarring against the rawness of my recent thoughts. Before I could sift through the tangle of emotions and form a coherent response, he caught me off-guard. Bending down on one knee, he produced a small velvet box, flipping it open to reveal a ring that sparkled with promise and pretense. "Parker, will you marry me?"

Sunlight spilled through the blinds, dragging me out of a restless sleep. I reached for David's side of the bed, finding only the cold rumpled sheets as evidence that I was alone. The empty space where he should have been felt like an echo of last night's proposal—a question hanging in the air, unanswered.

The clock on the nightstand read just past eight. No note, no text—David was already consumed by his work at the hospital. I let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand over my face, the weight of the ring he'd offered feeling like an anchor around my heart.

I'd stood there, dumbfounded as David had leapt back up to his feet and pulled me into his arms. Then he'd led me over to the table where he'd served me a generous helping of the casserole he'd made. Dinner had been mostly quiet, neither of us sure what to talk about with work off the table. Afterwords, we'd curled up on the couch and started a movie, but halfway through, David's snores drowned out the dialogue between the main characters. It was only once I'd sent him to bed and was turning off the lights that I realized I'd never actually given him an answer.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, a welcome distraction from the quiet apartment. It was Travis. Hey, you and David want to come to the Cubs game today? I've got extra tickets.

David's absence answered for him. He's at work , I typed back, the words causing bitterness to rise in my throat.

Too bad. You up for it, though? Could use some company.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. I really should stay home and try to figure out what in the hell I was going to say to David the next time I saw him, yet the thought of being alone, trapped with my thoughts and the memory of David on one knee, was suffocating.

Sure , I replied, a pulse of recklessness urging me on. Pick me up?

Awesome. See you in an hour.

An hour and a half later, I found myself amidst the cheers and chatter of Wrigley Field, the roar of the crowd a stark contrast to the silence of my apartment. Travis's enthusiasm was infectious, but even the crack of the bat couldn't shatter the confusing thoughts that circled on an endless loop inside my brain, refusing to give me even a moment's peace.

"You okay?" Travis asked during the seventh-inning stretch, his blue eyes searching mine, full of warmth and concern.

"Yeah," I lied, managing a half-smile. "Just tired, I guess."

Travis gave me a look that said he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't push. Instead, he grinned and said, "Well, we can't have that. Time for some ballpark therapy."

He disappeared into the crowd, returning several minutes later, laden down with a large bag of popcorn, cotton candy, four hotdogs, and a beer for each of us. The sight was so ridiculous, so utterly indulgent, that I couldn't help but laugh.

"Doctor's orders," Travis said with a wink, handing me a hot dog and a beer.

As we dug into the treats, I felt something loosen in my chest. The tension that had been coiled tight since the night before began to unwind, melting away like cotton candy on my tongue. Travis regaled me with outrageous stories from his college days, his animated gestures punctuating each punchline. Before I knew it, I was laughing so hard my sides ached, the weight of my unresolved engagement momentarily forgotten.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the Cubs clinched their victory, the energy palpable as fans jumped to their feet. Travis and I high-fived, caught up in the excitement. As people began filtering out of the stadium, Travis turned to me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hey, want to see something cool?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Sure," I replied, curiosity piqued. "What did you have in mind?"

Travis leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke over the noise of the departing crowd. "How about we go meet the team?"

My eyes widened in surprise. "Meet the team? Are you serious?"

He nodded, looking pleased with himself. "Perks of being their physical therapists next season. We've got access to the locker room. What do you say?"

The excitement of meeting the Cubs players momentarily overrode my inner turmoil. I found myself nodding eagerly, a grin spreading across my face to match Travis's. "Lead the way," I said, my heart racing with a thrill I hadn't felt in far too long.

Travis grabbed my hand, pulling me through the thinning crowd. His touch sent a jolt through me, both familiar and dangerously new. We wove our way down to field level, Travis flashing his credentials at security checkpoints. With each step closer to the locker room, the noise of the stadium faded, replaced by the low hum of post-game activity.

The locker room door swung open, and suddenly we were surrounded by the Cubs themselves. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, deodorant, and victory. Players moved about, some still in uniform, others freshly showered, all riding the high of their win. Travis moved through the space with an easy familiarity, greeting players and staff alike. I hung back, slightly overwhelmed by the surreal nature of the moment.

"Parker, come here," Travis called, waving me over to where he stood chatting with the first-base coach. "This is Coach Napoli. Mike, this is Parker, the new PT I was telling you about."

His handshake was firm, his smile genuine. "Nice to meet you, Parker. Travis says you've been a real asset to his team. We look forward to working with you."

I felt heat creep up my neck at the compliment, acutely aware of Travis's gaze on me. "Thanks. I'm looking forward to it too," I managed to reply.

Travis introduced me to more of the team and I felt a surge of admiration for him. He moved through this world with such ease, making everyone feel comfortable and valued. It was a skill I'd always admired in him, but seeing it in action here was something else entirely.

As we made our way through the locker room, I found myself relaxing, swept up in the excitement and camaraderie. Players shared jokes, rehashed key moments from the game, and discussed plans for celebrating their win. It felt like being part of something bigger, a world away from the doubts and uncertainties waiting for me at home.

Travis's hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. "Ready to head out?" he asked.

I nodded, suddenly aware of how long we'd been there and how late it was getting. As we said our goodbyes and made our way out of the stadium, the energy from the locker room seemed to linger, crackling between us like static electricity.

"That was amazing!" I said enthusiastically. "Thanks for introducing me."

His grin was contagious. "No problem. I figured it was time they meet the other therapist who will be working with them. Plus, I was kind of hoping to put a smile on your face and I'm happy to see it worked. Now, what do you say we grab a pizza?"

The neon sign of "Luigi's Pizzeria" cast an artificial glow over the sidewalk, inviting us in from the windy evening. The day had been a whirlwind of excitement and emotion, but now, as we settled into a booth by the window, exhaustion was creeping up on me like an unwelcome shadow.

"Two slices of deep-dish should hit the spot, right?" Travis said with his characteristic grin, sliding into the seat across from me. His energy seemed endless, his eyes as bright as the city lights outside.

"Sounds perfect," I murmured, trying to muster enthusiasm, but my attempt fell flat even to my own ears.

Travis ordered for us both, his voice carrying easily to the counter. Then he turned back to me, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Hey, I don't want to pry, but you've been quiet all day. Are you sure you're okay?"

My gaze was fixed on the checkered tabletop, tracing the patterns absently. "Yeah. I just have a lot on my mind." I lifted my eyes to meet his. "Sorry I'm not very good company."

"Are you kidding? You're great company, Parker," he said earnestly. "And honestly, I look forward to our time together more than you might realize."

His hand reached across the table, covering mine, and I was startled by the contact, by the sincerity in his voice. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent warmth spiraling through me.

"Thanks for today. I really needed this," I admitted.

Travis's smile was warm, genuine. "Anytime, Parker. That's what friends are for, right?" But as he said it, something flickered in his eyes—a depth of emotion that made my breath catch.

The server arrived just then with our pizza. Travis gave my hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away so she could set the food down. We ate mostly in silence, the melty cheese and tangy sauce filling up the spaces between us. But inside, I was all tangled thoughts and confusion, the warmth of his touch replaying in my head.

When I finally made it back to the apartment, the door swung open to reveal David, already home. He looked up from the medicaljournal he'd been reading. "Where've you been?"

"Out with Travis," I answered, watching him closely for any flicker of reaction.

"That's good. I'm glad you've got a friend to hang out with." His smile was brief as he returned his attention to his journal.

I stood there, keys still dangling from my fingers, watching David's eyes scan the pages in front of him. The soft rustle of paper as he turned a page seemed to echo in the stillness of our apartment. I waited for—something. A question about my day, perhaps. Or maybe a hint of curiosity about why I was out so late. But nothing came.

Annoyance bubbled up inside me, a feeling I couldn't quite place or justify. Why should I be annoyed that David trusted me? That he didn't interrogate me about my whereabouts or company. Isn't that what a healthy relationship looked like? And yet, a small, traitorous part of me wished he would look up. That he would notice the lingering scent of stadium hot dogs and cheap beer clinging to my clothes. That he would care enough to ask about the day I'd spent with another man.

I cleared my throat. "So, how was your day?"

David looked up again, his eyes taking a moment to focus on me, almost as if he'd forgotten I was there. "Oh, busy as usual. We had a tricky appendectomy come in, but it went well."

I nodded, unsure how to respond. The distance between us felt insurmountable, despite standing just feet apart. The ring he'd offered last night weighed heavily in my pocket, where I'd stashed it this morning, unable to slip it onto my finger.

"That's good," I replied, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "Well, I'm going to head on into bed. I'm tired."

"G'night," he responded absentmindedly over his shoulder, his nose already buried back in his medical journal. With a heavy sigh, I turned and headed towards the bedroom.