Lukas
Iroll over and wrap my arm around Parker, still half asleep. It takes me a second to realize that she feels all squishy and another second to realize that’s not Parker at all. My eyes shoot open and I sit up straight. I’m holding a pillow and there’s an empty space where I expected to find Parker.
I run my hands through my hair, listening for her in the bathroom, but the house is dead silent. My heart drops because I already know she’s gone. I jump out of bed and search the house to be sure. Her purse is gone and her clothes aren’t in the dryer. Her bra is still hanging by the garage door, though. Great. So she bolted into the night, braless and went god knows where. How? It’s not like I was keeping her hostage, but she didn’t have a car. My truck is still in the garage, so she must have called someone.
Why would she do this? I don’t understand. Last night was perfect. She was happy when we went to bed. Who would she call? One of my sisters, maybe?
I start to text Julia but call instead. I don’t feel like waiting for a response, all things considered. She answers on the third ring.
“This had better be good,” she says with a grumpy sounding groan.
“Have you seen Parker this morning?” I ask, ignoring the greeting.
“No… is there a specific reason you’re worried about her whereabouts at the literal crack of dawn?”
“Can you give me her number?”
Julia makes a growly sound in her throat. “Yes, but don’t tell her you got it from me, especially if you did something to piss her off.”
“Deal. Text it to me.” I hang up before she can say anything else. She sends the number a second later and I call it as soon as it comes through. I glance at the clock as it rings. 6:32 A.M. Where the hell would she be? Home would be the obvious answer, but I don’t have her home address.
I should have made her fill out all her contact info at the garage yesterday. At least then I’d have an idea of where she’d be, but I’m a dumbass who forgot all about protocol. I was too busy watching her ass in those damn jeans to think about paperwork.
Parker doesn’t answer, and I get a message that her voicemail isn’t set up. I lean my elbows on the kitchen counter and run both hands through my hair as I stare at the phone, weighing my options. Worry for Parker overwhelms any concern I have about involving my other sisters, so I pull up a text with Olive and Lilah.
Me: Anyone seen Parker this morning?
Olive: Yup. She’s at the bookstore early today. Inventory.
Lilah: Why do you want to know?
Me: Car stuff. Thanks.
I can feel my phone vibrating with more text messages even as I pop it in my pocket, but I ignore them. Snatching my truck keys and Parker’s bra, I run out the door to my truck. I’m parked in front of her bookstore four minutes later. I can see her through the window, sitting in one of the leather armchairs. She’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand. Her cheek resting on the other fist. Her eyes are closed and she looks miserable. What did I do? There’s a sick, wrenching feeling in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.
I step out of the truck and walk to the front door, testing the handle. It’s locked, so I rap my knuckles on the glass. Parker doesn’t move, just calls out, “We’re still closed.” Her voice is muffled but still easy enough to hear.
I knock again and hold her bra up in the other hand. “I can come back later, but I thought you might want this.”
Parker’s head shoots up, her pretty blue eyes wide as saucers as she stares at me. She stands and the sight of her in that cherry print sun dress is torture, especially now that I know exactly what she looks like out of it. She stands on the other side of the door but doesn’t unlock it.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I would think the answer is pretty obvious,” I say, swinging the bra from one finger so that it sways back and forth. “I woke up to an empty bed, no note, and no idea where you’d run off to.”
Parker crosses her arms over her chest and stares at her feet. “I had to get to work.”
“You don’t open for another two hours.” I tap the glass door between us where the hours are posted in shiny gold lettering. “Open the door.”
“No. I have inventory to do.”
“I call bullshit, Freckles. I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I sure as hell can’t fix it out here.”
“You can’t talk to me like that!” She shoots back and I catch a glimpse of fire in her eyes even as pink spreads across her cheeks. Good. I’ll take anger over walled-off any day.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m allowed to be a little mad after you ran off like that with no explanation.”
“Explanation?!” she yells. “Are you kidding me? Fine. Whatever! I got swept up in it, ok?! I thought last night was more than what it really was. I didn’t realize that you’d want to keep it a secret, and once it dawned on me how stupid I was being, I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t stick around for an awkward morning when you were already ashamed of sleeping with me!”