Page 24 of Wish You Would

As if the thought conjured the victim of said damage, Vaughn walked through the employees-only door, a flesh and blood reminder of why I was here. Why I was running this place. So he could step back. So he could be happy. I’d robbed him of that for years with my absence, with my selfishness. Left him with all the responsibilities, all the grief.

Heathcliff’s was my atonement. And I still had so much atoning to do.

Vaughn’s step faltered when he caught sight of me. “Everything all right?”

I forced a smile onto my face and pushed away from the counter. “Yep. Just…floored by Dante’s news, is all.”

The lie was sour on my tongue, but Vaughn didn’t seem to notice. He smiled, wide and bright. “Can you believe it?”

And just like that, the heaviness in my gut got a little lighter.

Dante’s news was the perfect reminder of my priorities. I had responsibilities to this place, and to everyone who worked here. I could not fuck off and join a band. They deserved more from me.

Spine stiffening, I tucked my phone back into my pocket, along with Halle’s message. Then, I mentally labeled it DO NOT OPEN.

Not even in case of emergency.

12

PARKER

BABY GOT BACK

“So,” Anya said, leaning an elbow on the table between us. The overhead lights caught the highlights in hair—deep indigo with shots of magenta. Almost as vivid as her personality. “What’s new with you? What did you get up to while I was gone?”

I pulled my tea mug closer to me and wound the string around my finger. Anya had just returned to Port Agnes from Chicago this morning, and, true to her word, she’d swung by my apartment on her way home to scoop me up for brunch.

“Oh, no,” I said as I dunked the teabag into the steaming water. “I want to hear about Chicago. How was Mom?” I didn’t meet Anya’s eye, instead watching my tea grow darker. It was an evasion tactic, sure. But the whole Halle/Gigi thing felt more like an over-drinks conversation. Not the kind of thing you talk about over brunch.

Anya lifted a dark brow, as if she could see right through me. Which, she probably could. My big sister read people like comic books. “Chicago was good.” She reached for the plate between us, piled with bacon. We’d ordered a double side to split, along with our own stacks of pancakes. Mine with peanut butter, hers blueberry. “Got a lot of questions about the next issue.” She grinned. “They have no idea what they’re in for.”

I smiled back, pride warming me from the inside out. My sister was a powerhouse talent. Her artistry and storytelling astounded me long before I ever found the guts to reach out and form a relationship on my own. I’d forever be thankful for the day she answered my call thinking I was her best friend. She would have avoided my calls forever, otherwise. And we never would have made it here.

Here being Big Richards, a new brunch place, on a Thursday afternoon, sharing breakfast and life stories.

My heart ballooned in my chest and I smiled across the table.

“What are you looking like a goober for?” she asked around a mouthful of bacon.

I shook my head and picked up my fork. “Nothing. Just…happy we’re here.”

Anya’s face softened. Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she reached across the table and gave my free hand a squeeze. “Me, too, Parks.” She picked up her fork and stabbed her pancakes. “Mom, on the other hand…” She shook her head, lifting a bite to her lips. “She spent half the time she was at the con staring wide-eyed at every half-naked cosplay she saw, and the other half asking about you.”

I winced. “Sorry. She’s probably spiraling because I put a limit on how much she can text and call me.”

“Oh, I heard all about it.” Anya smirked. “Proud of you for that, by the way.”

I warmed at her praise. “Thanks.” It’d been hard to set that boundary with my mom, who had historically been super hover-y and over-protective. Probably to make up for her lack of involvement in Anya’s childhood.

“Other than that,” Anya continued, “we did…kind of have fun?” She looked just as baffled as she sounded. “She was my plus-one at the ball on Saturday night. Wore a costume and everything.”

“Get out.” I leaned forward, propelled by shock and fascination. “Pictures. Now.”

Laughing, she picked up her phone and found what she was looking for. I had it out of her hands before she could even hold it out to me.

“No way,” I said, staring at the photo before me. Our Mom stood tall next to Anya, who had not worn a costume, in a gosh darn Wonder Woman outfit. And, even more shocking? She looked happy.

I looked up at Anya, awed. “How did you convince her to do this?”

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