Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“A glowing cluster like a fading cloud with a dark vein running through it,” I continued. “One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I had no idea. Living in the city teaches you a lot, but it doesn’t teach you this. The city is full of art, but this…I’d never be able to match this.”
“You already do,” he said almost too quietly for me to hear.
“Parker…” I whispered, almost pleading. Pleading for him to not do this. Pleading for him to stop.
“We should see each other,” he stated. “Meet up so you can’t ignore my phone calls again.”
Yes.
My mind worked overtime imagining seeing him. How many times had I imagined running into him, smiling, and running into his arms to feel the hug I’d missed so long? But just as quick as that yearning came, the reminder of why we parted—how he put his career first and left me alone smashed it apart.
The mix of emotions swirled even more violently with him so close, with his voice in my ear. Each thought bombarded me until I feared losing myself altogether.
I want to see him.
I can’t see him.
I miss him.
He left me.
I love him.
I hate him.
One freaking phone call and look at me—a mess.
What would I look like if I actually stood before him? What would I be willing to sacrifice just to have a piece of him? I wasn’t willing to find out.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I-I…I just can’t, Parker. I’m sorry.”
Silence. So much silence until I feared he’d left me, but I knew he was still there when I heard the occasional huff of air. I chewed my lip, struggling to let him process but knowing I had no other words to give him. I didn’t want to explain how seeing him would be too real. I didn’t want to explain that if I saw him, I wasn’t sure I would want to leave. I didn’t want to explain because I wasn’t even sure I could explain it to myself.
We hadn’t talked for five years, and yet here I was on the verge of crying because…because…
I bit back my groan of frustration, irritated with my inability to put it into words.
But that was Parker. Always stirring emotions deep within me like no one else ever had.
“Can we talk again tomorrow—actually tomorrow?” he finally asked.
I breathed a sigh of relief that he dropped it and answered vaguely. “I don’t know if I’ll have service, but I’m heading home soon for an interview.”
“Yeah? Where at? Are you going to settle down to that office job?” His laugh was fake, but we both ignored it, latching on to the reprieve.
“Yeah, right. It’s just a freelance job. Writing an article for an online travel magazine.”
“You’ll nail it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re the most talented person I know. How could they not want you?”
“You do good things for my ego,” I laughed.
“I do what I can.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Keep me updated. And send me a picture of you on a mountain somewhere.”
“I have them on my Instagram.”
“No. I want one with your face. I want to see you.” When I didn’t answer right away, he added, “Please.”
“Okay,” I found myself agreeing.
Because why not? Parker Callahan could always get me to do anything.
Five
Nova
P A S T
“Oh, my gosh,” a girl, whose name I think was Amber, practically squealed when she leaned beside my open locker. I froze, wide-eyed, alarmed, and wondering if she thought I was someone else. We’d definitely never talked before. “I had no idea Parker Callahan was your brother.”
“Stepbrother,” I corrected on rote, cringing even over admitting that.
“Yeah, when Dr. Brooks mentioned he had your brother in his morning class, I couldn’t believe it. How cool to have the same classes as your brother. You could totally study together at home,” she continued like I hadn’t spoken.
“Yeah. Cool.” My interest in the conversation went from minimal to non-existent. It’d only been a couple of months, but she wasn’t the first girl to randomly approach me to ask about Parker. I could already play out the rest of the conversation, it happened so frequently.
“I mean, he’s so hot. Not that you would notice since he’s your brother. Which is totally unfortunate because that would be like incest.”
“Stepbrother,” I grumbled, knowing she probably didn’t even hear me, cringing over the incest comment.
Maybe if I said it enough, I’d start listening because when I looked at him, he inspired anything but brotherly feelings.
The flicker in my chest started over the summer before I was faced with public thoughts and queries like this one. It’d been easy to feed into the feeling growing in my chest because the situation made us more like roommates than family. Or friends that just happened to live together, and there was no harm in drooling over your ridiculously sexy friend. There was no harm in wanting to abandon your naivety and explore the heat he created in the pit of your stomach. There was nothing wrong with the thoughts I had about my friend.