Page 68 of Wish You Would

I couldn’t take that.

“I’m,” I tried again, but came up empty.

Across from me, she sighed. The bed shifted as she slid even closer, stretching her other leg out so that I was cradled between them. “Did you know,” she started, her thumb tracing circles on my palm, “that I spent the first ten years of my life believing my mom would send me away if I wasn’t good?”

My eyes flew to hers. “What—”

“Yeah, ten whole years.” Her fingers untangled and re-tangled with mine, but she held my gaze. “Anya lived with our aunt, and I always thought it was because she’d done something to make our mom mad. So she…got sent away.”

“Parker,” I started, unsure of what to say. Or why she was telling me this. “That’s…”

“Silly? Ridiculous? Not even close to the truth?” Her lips tilted at the corner. “I know. Now, I know. But then?” She shook her head, her curl falling over her shoulder. “You couldn’t have convinced me otherwise. So I spent every day being as perfect as I possibly could, doing everything I was asked to do, everything I thought my parents wanted, because I was so scared to mess up.”

“Oh, my god.” I let go of her hands and leaned forward to cradle her face in my palms. “I’m so sorry, baby. That’s no way to grow up.”

She smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine and holding. “No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t. It’s taken years—of therapy and unlearning and talking to my family—to undo the damage. But even now…” She put her hands over mine and dropped them both to her lap. “It’s hard, you know? To remember that the people in my life aren’t going to exile me the moment I mess up.”

My heart cracked right down the middle. Parker, my sweet Parker, living every day afraid of being human, of making mistakes. I slid closer, unfolding my legs and resting them atop hers, so that we were face-to-face. “I have no intention of exiling you,” I said, the fierceness in my voice catching even me off guard. “No matter how messy you get.”

She smiled, blue eyes bright. “Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose.

I pressed my lips to hers, soft and light, and rested my forehead against hers. Running my hand over her head, I toyed with her hair, breathing her in, assuring her with my body, my touch, that I was right here. And I wanted her right here.

After a moment, her shaky breath broke the silence. I straightened, looking her over.

“The reason I’m telling you this,” she said, lashes damp from the tears she’d let free, but her voice firm. “Is because I’m hoping you’ll open up to me, too.”

“What…” I tore my gaze from hers, pulse pounding harder in my veins. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t reply, not until I looked up again. With the softness of kittens’ whiskers, she said, “Tell me why you keep turning down the band.”

My next breath froze in my throat. No, I thought. I can’t. But her eyes held steady on mine, like a safe harbor from the raging sea inside of me, and I…well, I wanted to seek shelter. Slowly, I forced myself to inhale, feeding my lungs the air they were begging for, and then I let the breath out, words tumbling from my lips, too.

“I missed my dad’s funeral.”

Okay, I thought, yanking my gaze from hers. That wasn’t where I thought I’d start.

She didn’t speak, just squeezed my hands between hers. It was what I needed to keep going. “He didn’t want me to take the job with the cruise line. When I told him about it, we fought. What about college, he said. You need to think, Georgia. But I was eighteen and I knew everything. So, instead of trying to make him understand, instead of talking it through…I left.” I shook my head, the memory sharp as knives. “I told him I wasn’t like him, wasn’t like Vaughn. I told him I wanted more from my life than some stupid bar. And I left.”

My eyes burned. I squeezed them shut, heart beating a ragged rhythm in my chest. “That…that was the last thing I said to him.”

Parker released my hands and slid across the bed, nestling in right next to me. She put her arm over my shoulder and leaned her head against mine. I let myself sink into her, taking the comfort she offered like a balm to my wounds.

“When he first got sick,” I started again, “I told myself I’d come home. As soon as the cruise was over, I’d come home. By that point, I’d been gone for a couple years, hadn’t kept in touch like I should have.” I shook my head. “I was a dumb kid. Stubborn. Thought, I’ll show him for not believing in me. My silence was a punishment. I didn’t think…I didn’t think we’d run out of time.”

Tears fell freely now, and I let them. I fixed my gaze on the splash as they hit my bare thighs, watching as they formed rivulets over my skin. Taking a shaky breath, I forced myself to continue. To get it all out. To tell Parker how awful the person she chose actually was. Awful and undeserving of the wonder that was her.

“I was at sea when he died. There’d been a storm, knocked out our internet service. I didn’t…I didn’t know until after the funeral. I didn’t know my dad was dead for an entire week.”

Saying the words aloud broke the dam inside me. The heaviness in my chest released on a sob. Parker’s arms tightened around me. She pressed my face against the crook of her neck and made soothing sounds as she ran her hand over my hair. I clung to her as the waves crashed into me, relentlessly, over and over. Until my body trembled, until my throat ached. And still, she held me.

Finally—finally—the sobs eased. Parker’s fingers settled at the base of my skull, rubbing soft circles over my skin. I focused my attention there, synching my breath to her touch, until I felt on solid land again. Then, I pulled back.

I didn’t know what I’d see on her face. I feared it. Would there be judgment? Disgust? Regret for getting involved with the kind of person who would treat their own family like I had?

But, instead of cool blue eyes and a somber face, I was met with the warmest sight. Her eyes were the blue of the sky on the first sunny morning after days of storms. I let the warmth permeate my icy insides.

“You were a kid, Gigi.” She wiped the tears from my cheeks. “We’re all stupid and selfish when we’re young.”

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