Page 104 of The Wrong Heart

And a little pink Post-it note stuck to the side of the fridge, wrinkled and creased. Familiar handwriting stares back at me, sending a tremor through me.

“I think you saved my life that night.”

It’s the only personal sentiment sprinkled into his otherwise very basic living space.

When my eyes find Parker watching me from the same place I left him, a burst of emotion climbs up my chest and causes my eyes to water. “You saved my note,” I murmur in a low, broken voice. I had attached this note to his cupcakes after that night in the rain when I had my breakthrough.

I’m not okay, but I’m not ready to give up that one day I will be.

He’d told me he hadn’t even read the note.

Parker’s expression is minted with vulnerability as he stares at me, a little uncomfortable, like he hadn’t expected me to see that. His jaw ticks while his eyes skim over me, then his gaze drops to the floor. Everything about him is rigid and hard.

Everything except that look on his face.

I approach him with slow steps and a swiftly beating heart, closing the gap between us and reaching for his hand again. It’s clenched tight, only loosening slightly when I give it a gentle squeeze. When Parker glances back up at me, I don’t say anything. I simply give his hand a tug and guide him towards the hallway, my insides buzzing when he doesn’t pull away. He follows my lead.

I’m not sure where I’m going, but as I inspect the limited selection of rooms and note that only one of them adorns a bed, I push through the cracked door and step inside, drawing Parker with me.

Nerves seize me when my eyes land on the queen-sized bed, shrouded in the shadows of the dimly lit room. A nightlight on the wall provides a minimal glow, enough to drink in the sparce and uncolored space. White walls, gray bed covers, a little wooden nightstand with a lamp. A dresser on the opposite wall. A laundry basket partially filled with t-shirts and jeans.

And that’s everything. That’s the extent of his bedroom.

Turning to face him, I let go of his hand and pace a few steps backwards, until I reach the foot of the bed. Parker lingers just in front of the doorway, still stiff. Still strained. His gaze flickers with conflict as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, eyes spearing me from a few feet away.

Gathering my courage, shaky fingers lift from my side and carefully slip the straps off of each shoulder. He watches me, drinking me in from the shadows with guarded interest, his eyes dipping when the dress slides down, revealing my black lace bra. I tug it further, exposing my ribs, my abdomen, my matching underwear, and then it glides down my legs into a halo of red at my feet. Parker follows its descent, then drags his sights back up my nerve-wracked body, settling on my wide, terrified eyes.

I hold out my hand, encouraging him towards me.

I need him closer. I need tofeelhim.

His fingers tap along the side of his thigh as his head jerks away from me, a hard sigh escaping. “Fuck, Melody… I told you I’m no good at this.”

A frown furrows as I lower my hand. “I’m not either. You’re the only one I’ve done this with aside from…” I swallow, pursing my lips. “You’re the only one.”

Parker’s attention stays fixed to the other side of the room, his stance restless, prepared to bolt at the slightest threat. Pacing towards him, my movements are cautious and controlled—as ifI’mthat threat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper when I approach, taking his tense hands in mine and guiding them to my hips. His fingers unravel and cling to me, digging into my hipbones with something akin to desperation. He’s fighting something I don’t understand. “Parker, look at me.”

It takes a moment before his neck cranes toward me, green eyes glinting from the subtle glow of the nightlight. He heaves in a rattled breath, holding me tighter. “This won’t work, Melody. It can’t.”

No, don’t do this.Not now.

I grind my teeth together and duck my head. Pushing aside the sting, I collect my wits and try to read him instead. I try to wind my way through this endless maze that is Parker Denison and locate the source of his block. His deep-seated resistance. “Tell me why it won’t work,” I prompt softly. Gently. “Please, talk to me.”

“Because…” Parker’s fingers uncurl from my waist, then skim down my body until his arms fall loose on either side of him. “Because I’ll never be him… and you’ll always be her.”

My brows pull together, my heart stuttering.

Himis Charlie.

But who is…her?

I refuse to give in to the frustration of his push and pull, his indecision. I choke back the anger that bubbles to the surface. I won’t allow the prickle of rejection to consume me and drive another wedge between us.

Iknowhe wants this. Iknowhe has feelings for me.

So, I run with that.

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