Page 38 of The Proximity Factor

That set me off. “I’m not dating Lanie, so I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation,” I snapped. “I’m sorry,” I immediately apologized.

“Someone’s edgy. Apology accepted.”

“Thank you. I am sorry. And you’re right, I feel like I am on edge. My life is hanging in the balance, and for a couple of weeks Lanie made me forget my life sucks. How does she do that?”

“I don’t know. But for the last few weeks, she’s made me feel better too. She’s kind of been like a big sister. She even helped me with some guy issues.”

“I didn’t know you were having guy issues. Lanie never said anything. What’s going on?”

“I asked her not to tell you. She swore she wouldn’t.”

I thought about the secrets I’d divulged to her, things she could have told my friends just to get a laugh at my expense, but didn’t. “She’s good at keeping her promises.”

“You sound upset by that.”

I smiled to myself. “It’s inconvenient. But tell me about the guy problems you’re having.” I tried to shift the focus off me.

Daphne wasn’t taking the bait. “Nothing you need to worry about. What you need to worry about is fixing things with Lanie. What happened last night?”

I placed my hands behind my head and held them there while I thought about my callous comments. “I panicked, okay?”

“What do you mean, you panicked?”

“She said ‘next year,’ like we would still be in each other’s lives. I didn’t know if she meant that in a friendly way or if she was thinking we would be more than friends, because I’ve been thinking about more. But then I thought, if we became involved, suddenly I’d become the creepy old guy who used this experiment to his advantage. And how can I possibly forget I’m barely making ends meet right now as it is, and my life has been a dumpster fire for the last three years? It would be wrong for me to drag someone else into that situation, assuming she even wanted to jump on the highway to hell with me. So, yes, I panicked and told her I didn’t know where we would be in a year, instead of telling her I could think of nothing better than to see her in the stands, holding up one of her homemade posters while cheering me on and watching me play. Because it’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my life to cheer me on. Present company excluded, but you know what I mean.” My hands fell into my lap with the admission.

“Wow, Parker. Did that hurt to admit?” Daphne asked, concerned.

“More than you know.” Now that the words were out, I wished I hadn’t said them. I hadn’t felt that vulnerable in a long time—not since I was eight years old and my father said he was leaving us. I begged him to stay, only to have him walk out the door and out of my life. I promised myself then and there I would never beg anyone else to stay in my life. If they didn’t want to be there, they could get the hell out, as far as I was concerned. It was what I told Maren when she told me of her affair with Stephen. Looking back, I think she wanted me to fight for her. When I didn’t, she made it her mission to take everything from me. Mission accomplished.

“Parker, I’m sorry. You always try to take care of everyone, me especially. And I’m sorry if that’s only added to the fire.”

“Daphne,” I cut her off. “It’s not you. Helping you is the only thing I’m doing right in my life right now, so please don’t take that away from me. Please let me be the man I promised I would be.”

“Is that what this is all about, being better than our jerk of a father? Because if that’s the case, rest assured, big brother, you are a thousand times better. And just because things aren’t going your way doesn’t mean they won’t again. Do you really want to be with someone who only wants you on your best days? If you find someone who’s willing to look past the fact you have no home, are building a fledgling company, and knows you can be a real bear sometimes, I’d hang on to that.” She laughed.

“Thanks, kid, for really putting my life in context there.” If I hadn’t felt like a loser before, her recap cemented it.

“Hey, like you said, your life is a dumpster fire. But I have to wonder if you’d let more people in, whether they might be able to help you put those flames out. Maybe something to think about.” It was her quintessential mic drop moment, as she would call it.

The reverberations rang loud and clear in my ears until it hurt. I rubbed my temples, my head pounding with her words. When had my little apprentice become the master? Or at least smarter than her big brother.

“Good night, Parker. I love you.” She hung up, not letting me get another word in. Not even to say how much I loved her.

Before I could even process the conversation with my sister, Lanie let out a terrible shriek. I jumped from my chair, flew out the bedroom door, and looked around to see where Lanie was. All I could think was maybe Greg had come back, and I was going to beat the hell out of him. Then I heard Lanie shouting from the bathroom. “Son of a bee sting! Son of a biscuit! Son of a motherless goat!”

I hadn’t heard that last one. I chuckled as I walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Lanie, are you okay?”

“Just go away, you stupid son of a nutcracker. You left the toilet seat up and now my bum is wet and covered in germs. Thank you very much.”

I let out a heavy breath full of regret, and not just for the toilet seat. “Lanie, I’m sorry. I forgot. I won’t let it happen again. Even though the toilet seat thing is a double standard,” I said, tongue in cheek, hoping she wouldn’t hate me.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll leave it up for you. Is that what you want?” she zinged back.

I leaned my forehead on the door. “No,” I sighed. “I want you to understand my life is a hellhole right now and I don’t want to pull anyone down with me.”

“We aren’t talking about toilet seats anymore, are we?” she called through the door.

“No. Lanie, I’m sorry about last night. You caught me off guard. It’s hard for me to think of a year from now when I’m barely holding things together day-to-day.”

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