Page 120 of Dear Mr. Brody

“You’re wrong, though. It doesn’t work like that,” I said, my voice almost too thick to speak. “I never missed a thing when I was with you. I loved you, Lanie. With everything that I was. I might’ve not had a chance to know this other side of myself, but when we were good, I never needed anything else. It’s different with him, but it doesn’t diminish what we had.”

“You’ve always been good at knowing what to say,” she said and sniffled.

“I wish I knew what to say to him.”

“You love him?”

“I do.”

“Does he know?”

“I don’t think he does.”

Her laugh was light as she wiped at her eyes again. “Hell, Van. Have you told him?”

“No.”

“There’s you’re answer,” she said, looking at me like I was an idiot. Maybe I was. “You have to tell him that you love him. Whatever happened, maybe he’d be more understanding if he knew.”

“Yeah... It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always,” she said as she fidgeted with her car keys. “Has Anne met him.”

“She has. He’s the one who bought her that big ass whale.”

“I like him already… he’s good with her?”

“Yeah, he is.”

She set her keys to the side and leveled me with a look I knew all too well. “Just tell him how you feel. And if that doesn’t work, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

“You don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t. But I know you, Donovan, and whatever it is… you’ll make it work.”

Three days had turned into nine, and when he hadn’t shown up last Wednesday for class, I’d thought for sure I’d fucked everything up beyond repair. But as I stood by my desk, summarizing the final assignment, he walked into the room. He kept his head down, his hat low enough I couldn’t see his eyes. It wasn’t until one of the students in the front row turned to look over their shoulder that I realized I’d stopped talking.

“Uh…” I couldn’t do this. Fuck… I couldn’t do this. Each breath I took was marked as I tried to collect my thoughts. “Um… what… what was I saying?”

“The final…” someone said, and I ran a clammy hand through my hair.

“Yes. Thank you… The final.”

Parker flipped his hat backward, his blue gaze penetrating. His chest rising and falling in quick succession as he stared at me. The dark circles under his eyes made me wonder if his nights had been as restless as mine.

I counted to five in my head before he looked away.

“When did you say it was due?” another student asked, and I remembered where the hell I was.

“Friday,” I said, and tore my eyes away from him. “The final assignment is due on Friday, but you have all of next week to turn in any late work since we don’t have an actual final exam.”

I did my best, going over the assignment while stealing glances at Parker. The handful of times he’d caught me, he’d look away. It was torture having him here, missing his secret smiles, his loaded, inappropriate looks. I was standing in the front of the classroom, but his scent was everywhere. Soap and spice in my lungs and on my hands, and I heard him in my head. He said,figure out what you want, andyou know how I feel. Instead of walking up the aisle to pass out the outline, I handed it to the first row and asked them to pass it back. I didn’t trust myself not to say something to him if I got that close. The hour dragged by as everyone worked on their paper. While most of the students had tapped away on their laptops, Parker scribbled into his notebook, ignoring me. As class ended and everyone started to pack up, my heart rate increased. He stood to leave, and despite the number of students remaining in the room, I called out his name.

“Parker, can you stay a minute?”

Parker.

Not Mr. Mills.

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