Page 89 of Forbidden Game

“She made some celery juice, too. She said that would only last till Sunday, though, or else you won’t get the health benefits.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I point my spoon at him menacingly, or as menacing as I can be after coming back from the brink of death. “Why on earth did you fly her here? Soup from the supermarket would have been fine.”

“Supermarket soup would not have sufficed.” He looks offended by the mere thought. “I was already flying Reston out, so it didn’t cost any more to have Amber on board.”

I blink a few times as I process his words.

“You flew the doctor out as well?” It’s more a hushed yell than a question.

“Of course. Reston might be a bit of a dick, but he’s one of the best private doctors I know. It’s just unfortunate he moved to New York last year. He lives to make my life harder, I swear.” Parker sips his tea without a care in the world, as though all of this is very normal.

“Parker,” I say slowly. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

My brain might be mush, but even I have enough sense to realize that this entire situation is abnormal.

Last year, Jackson broke his foot skiing, and Parker never mentioned this Reston guy. In fact, I distinctly remember Parker taking selfies with a severely drugged-out Jackson in the private hospital room and attempting to upload them online, and I had to confiscate his phone.

“What I think is that you need to keep eating.” He makes a pointed look at the soup I’ve barely touched because my brain has been too distracted. “You haven’t had anything to eat in twenty-four hours. You need fuel, love.” His spoon taps against the side of my bowl.

I purse my lips before taking another sip of the heavenly soup.

My stomach warms, but it’s not because of the food.

It’s because of him.

I’m not used to this.

Normally, it’s me checking in on him, making sure that he has something to eat after gaming for eight hours straight with nothing but energy drinks fueling his body. I’m the one who keeps track of where he is and makes sure that he isn’t getting into trouble. And I’m the one who normally scolds him to take a second to breathe and look after himself.

It’s weird to have him hovering over me like this. To have him caring about me. I don’t like to let people see me like this. I don’t like to be vulnerable. Because that means you have to let someone in, and that’s dangerous because the pain of losing someone you love is irreparable.

But this, right now?

I don’t hate it.

I don’t hate it, because it’s him.

And I don’t know what that means.

Sure, we had that moment of attraction five years ago, but attraction can be surface level. It doesn’t have to mean anything deeper. And after I drew the line between us, he never tried to push.

I thought he’d lost interest.

Yeah, okay. He has always been touchy and flirty. But that’s how Parker is with everyone.

I never took his flirting seriously. Why would I?

Parker Covington hasn’t been in a serious relationship since the day I met him. Heck, he’s the only one of the guys who hasn’t had a dating scandal—something which he always proudly points out to me. He always says he would rather spend time hanging out on the couch with me than wasting it with the girls at the club.

My stomach drops as realization kicks in.

The apartment. The car. The shoes. The doctor. The soup.

Those are just the tip of the iceberg. When I look beneath the surface, I see all the little things that he’s done over time piling up. It’s something you wouldn’t notice unless you added them all together. I always thought Parker was extra because…Parker is extra.

But that’s not it.

God dammit.

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