Page 29 of Parker

I let my breath go in a loud huff. “Wait. What?”

“Parker.”

“Harper.”

“Parker!”

“What?”

“I can’t believe I have to say this.”

“You do!” I insist. “Because I haveno ideawhat you’re talking about—what you’re thinking!”

“Parker, my clueless little sister.” She chuckles softly. “I reckon Quinn Morgan’s been in love with you for about as long as Joe Raven’s been in love with me. And without Sawyer around to steer him wrong this week, I think he’s finally doing something about it!”

And just like that…myworld…is…shook.

My breathing goes shallow and quick.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

I feel dizzy.

And confused.

And angry.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl.

“Parker, youknowthis. You have to know this somewhere inside.”

“No!” Hot tears burn my eyes, and I have no idea why. “No, Harper! No, Idon’tknow this!” I swipe at my eyes. “You’re wrong. You’re totally wrong!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.”

There’s a knock at my door, and I jump at the chance to eject myself from this conversation.

“My dinner’s here. I have to go.”

“Wait. Parker, talk to me.”

“No,” I say, clenching my teeth to hold back tears. “No. I have to go. Sorry I called during bath time. Love you. Bye.”

I can still hear her calling my name as I press End and run over to the door. This time, a hotel attendant stands behind a rolling cart which has silver dome-covered plates on top. But my appetite, which was voracious half an hour ago, is gone.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, with the rolling cart untouched before me, I feel numb. And stupid. And after that, furious.

Furious is good. Fury makes my tears dry up quickly.

Quinn Morgan’sin lovewith me?

For me, this is not—as it might be for the heroine in a crappily-written, hare-brained, rom-com movie—good news. I’m not feeling particularly swoony about the prospect of Quinn’s long-standing “love” for me. I’m not feeling like some lucky girl, who somehow managed to snag the hero’s affections in spite of herself. I’m not going to dance around the room in a dreamy montage sequence with Taylor Swift playing in the background.

No, no, no. No toallof it.

For most of my life, I’ve been the butt of Quinn’s jokes, the target of his teasing, and the victim of his pranks. And if that’s how he shows his “love” for someone, I’d just as soon stay his enemy. My sister’s words revolt me, in fact. They make me sick. I don’t want Quinn’s masochistic brand of love. I don’t wantanythingfrom Quinn Morgan.

To be clear, I appreciated his apology today, and moreover, I believe it was sincere. It was touching in its own way. It even made me hope for peace between us. Butlove? Hell, no. I’m a long way off fromlikingQuinn Morgan.Loveis absolutely, positively impossible.

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