Page 183 of Shy Girls Can't Fake Date

I move and sit beside him. “I never would’ve known. You always seem so confident at school and with your friends.”

“You have your Kikki power at home. Mine is away from home.”

My shoulders hunch forward as I slouch in sadness.

“Don’t look sad. This is why I’m always looking for the positives in life,” he says. “After finding out this stuff about my life, nothing else seems bad in comparison. You know, I could dwell on all the negative feelings. Or, I can see all the good things my parents do for me and how lucky I am to have them.”

I nod, keeping my eyes downcast as if I can see his family downstairs.

Parker smirks. “And now you know why they overdo it.”

“Do you think it’s because they feel guilty?”

He nods. “They fell in love so soon after my bio mom passed away. How could they not look at me and only feel guilt.”

“No way,” I perk up. “I’ve seen how they both look and act around you. They love you so much.”

“I know. But this is why I like to keep all this family baggage out of my social life. I don’t need to feel like crap when I leave the house.”

My heart hurts. “You feel like crap?”

He shrugs. “It’s just this deep cut I’m never allowed to talk about, so it just festers.”

I clutch my elbows, pleading with my eyes not to well.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blurts, “it’s not like this all the time. I’m not constantly thinking about it. It’s only if something triggers it, like Kurtis making a stupid remark. Usually, everyone just avoids the subject, and tip-toes around me like I might break.”

“That sounds so hard.”

“I think it’s my parents who are afraid of breaking.”

“Maybe they don’t know how to talk about it. Perhaps they should think about putting you all in family therapy.”

“Yikes. That would be so awkward.”

“Only at first.”

His eyebrow crooks. “You’ve been in therapy?”

There’s a knock at the door. “Parker?”

Parker huffs, slouching on his bed. “Go away, Kurtis.”

“Mom told me to come and get you,” Kurtis says through the door.

I suck in a breath and protectively shield the framed photos on the desk behind my back.

“I’m not going back down there with you,” Parker replies bluntly.

Kurtis grunts and the door knob twists. “Can I come in?”

Parker stands from the bed, his hands resting on his hips, as his brother enters the room.

Kurtis opens his mouth to speak, but when he glances my way, he falters.

Something inside me snaps.

All I see is red.

---