Page 29 of Playing with My Heart

Chapter Eleven

TRAVIS

The sun had just begun to peak through my blinds, but consciousness pried my eyes open regardless. A dull ache pulsed at the back of my skull from a night spent listening for any signs of distress from the guest room. I rolled over, feeling the weight of exhaustion like a lead blanket on my shoulders, and rubbed my hands over my face in an effort to scrub away the remnants of a sleepless night.

Parker Reyes—kind-hearted, soft-spoken Parker with those soulful gray eyes that seemed to see right through me—was just a wall away, sleeping off the remains of too much cheap whiskey and heartbreak. The image of him stumbling into my arms last night, slurring confessions about his breakup with David, played on a loop in my head.

“Me and David, we’re done,” he’d said, or something close enough to send my mind spiraling.

But what did “done” really mean? These things could be complicated—a fight blown out of proportion, words thrown like daggers in the heat of the moment without the intent to kill.Maybe it was just another lovers’ spat, soon to be patched up with kisses and half-hearted apologies. Yet the way Parker had clung to me, the despair in his voice when he’d said, “I don’t live there anymore,” sounded too definitive to be just a quarrel. Could he have been confused, though? He was drunk enough to mistake my spare bedroom for a spinning carnival ride.

Shit, this was all sorts of messed up.I tossed the sheets aside and sat up, stretching my limbs as if the motion could somehow shake free the thoughts tangling in my brain. As a physical therapist, I dealt with pain and healing every day—muscles torn, and bones broken—but this was different. This was the kind of hurt that couldn’t be massaged away, couldn’t be eased with ice packs or gentle stretches.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I stood, padding my way across the cool hardwood floor towards the window. Pushing the blinds aside, I squinted against the pale morning light that spilled into the room. It was going to be another sunny day in Chicago, the kind that would usually have me lacing up my running shoes or going rock climbing. But today, my plans boiled down to one thing: making sure Parker was okay.

I pictured him curled beneath the blankets, his chest rising and falling with the deep, steady breaths of someone who desperately needed the escape of sleep. Even in his most vulnerable moments, there was something undeniably captivating about him. Something that pulled at me, urging me to be closer than perhaps I should allow myself to be.

“Focus, Travis,” I muttered under my breath. “He needs a friend right now, not whatever mess is going on in your head.”

Shaking my head, I moved to my en suite bathroom and turned on the water in the shower. I brushed my teeth and peed while I waited for it to warm up and then I climbed in. The water cascaded down my back, the steam fogging up the glass of the shower door. I stood there longer than necessary, letting theheat seep into my muscles, pulling some of the stress from my tired body and washing it down the drain. There was an ache in me, one that wasn’t from a night on a basketball court or a day at the clinic, but something deeper, more complex. Almost as if Parker’s pain had become my own.

I finished getting ready then stepped out into the hallway. I stole a quick glance at the guest room door, the pull to go in there, to check on him was great, but I forced myself to leave him be. He needed as much rest as he could get. Instead, I went downstairs to confront the day, but first things first, coffee—or maybe something stronger, because damn, I was going to need it.

Dressed in sweats and a well-worn t-shirt, I padded into the kitchen, my thoughts still circling Parker. I was putting bread in the toaster when the soft thud of a closing door upstairs told me Parker was on the move. I glanced up at the ceiling, waiting. The sound of water running through pipes soon followed and I looked back down. Breakfast. He’d need something solid in his stomach after last night’s bender. Without conscious thought, my hands went to work frying bacon, whisking eggs, and toasting bread—the familiar motions grounding me.

The aroma of sizzling pork fat filled the kitchen, mingling with the rich scent of brewing coffee. It was a comforting blend, the kind of smell that spoke of lazy Saturday mornings and no obligations. Except today wasn’t about relaxation; it was about being there for a man I cared for very deeply.

Parker emerged just as I was plating the food, his appearance rough around the edges, hair damp and disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from being shoved into a bag, but somehow it only added to his appeal. His eyes were clouded, the aftermath of alcohol and heartache etched onto his face. Yet, even now, he looked sexy as hell—something about his vulnerability mixed with his inherent strength stirred a warmth within me.

“Morning,” I said gently, sliding a plate in front of him as he sat down on one of the island barstools across from me. “Eat up.”

He eyed the bacon and eggs warily, his stomach probably doing somersaults. “Man, I can’t. My stomach is too upset.” His voice was soft, roughened by the remnants of sleep and booze.

“Trust me, the grease will help with the hangover, and the protein will give you some energy,” I urged, keeping my tone light. “At least try, okay?”

With a resigned sigh, Parker picked up his fork and took a tentative bite. We ate mostly in silence, the scraping of cutlery against plates replacing conversation. I watched him from the corner of my eye, the way he slowly pushed food around on his plate before surrendering to the need to eat.

Finally, with half his breakfast conquered, Parker leaned back, the lines of exhaustion more pronounced on his face. He raked his fingers through his hair, then dropped his head into his hands. “I suppose you want to know what happened,” he murmured into his palms, his voice muffled.

“Hey,” I said gently, reaching across the island to nudge his arm. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Only share if you feel like it.”

Parker lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine. There was gratitude there, and what looked like trust. Or perhaps it was just my hopeful imagination painting what I wanted to see. “Thanks, Travis,” he said, and though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was a start. And right now, a start was enough.

I watched his shoulders slump as if bearing the weight of the world. Silence stretched between us and I could tell he was gathering his thoughts. Despite my insistence that he didn’t owe me any details, it was clear he needed to talk—to purge whatever pain he was holding inside.

“David and I—” His voice broke off, a frail thread lost in the vastness of the room. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s applebobbing. “We ended things. It’s over. God, it hurts even saying those words.”

I moved around the island and sat down next to him. “I’m sure it does hurt. You love him,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Parker nodded, his gaze fixed on the cold coffee in his mug. “I do, but not the way I should. Not the way he deserves.” He paused, his breath catching in his throat. “And he doesn’t love me that way either.”

“Shit, Parker.” I cursed softly, my mind racing with both concern and a selfish spark of hope. “How did you guys come to realize that?”

He looked up at me, eyes clouded with sadness. “You know when you wake up one day and everything feels like—like you’re just going through the motions? Well, it was more than just a moment for us. We’d both been feeling it for a long time, but neither of us wanted to admit it. I We still care about each other and want to be friends, but all the passion, the intensity we once had—it wasn’t there anymore.”

“Damn,” I muttered, pushing the empty cup aside. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but I held back, unsure if my touch would be welcome or another reminder of what he’d lost.

“But love isn’t only about fiery moments, is it?” Parker continued, his voice steadier now. “It’s about the everyday things too. It’s about building a life together and finding peace in the quiet. And we couldn’t find that peace together anymore. Instead of growing together, we grew apart.”

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