Page 105 of The Wrong Heart

I run with what I know because it’s the only way to understand the things I don’t.

“You want to know what’s on the other side of grief and pain?”

My question causes a trace of curiosity to flicker across his face. Parker sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Fuckin’ rainbows and butterflies, right? All that shit therapists shove down your throat to keep your head above water.”

I pin my eyes on his, punctuating each word like shrapnel to his skin. “What youputthere.”

A heavy silence fills the space between us, and I watch carefully as a frown draws across his brow line, pensive and wistful. He blinks, processing my response and swallowing down the remnants of it.

I don’t wait for his reply because I’m not looking for one—instead, I step backwards and slowly spin around to collect my discarded dress, stepping into it and pulling the straps back up over my shoulders. Straightening where I stand, I face him once more, noting that his thoughtful expression still stares back at me. I smile. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

As it turns out, Parker doesn’t have cable.

Or Netflix. Or Hulu. Or Amazon.

I’m actually not even sure why he has a television. It’s cased in a thick layer of dust, a telltale sign that he never uses it.

Settling beside him on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, I maintain a small distance between us, allowing him time to return from the dark place he entered in his bedroom. The room is dim, with only two working bulbs on his ceiling fan illuminating us in tungsten.

Parker glances at me, hands gripping his spread knees. “Popcorn doesn’t go well with invisible movies.”

I pop a kernel into my mouth with a grin. “We can talk instead.”

“I don’t go well with talking.”

My smile widens as I pull my legs up to the sofa cushion, my knees grazing the side of his thigh. “You have a sense of humor behind all that grouch. You kind of remind me of…” I trail off, realizing he reminds me of…Zephyr.

Sort of. Sometimes.

The dry sense of humor and occasional quick wit.

But Zephyr doesn’t exist to me anymore. He took one look at me and disappeared, leaving me questioning everything we had, everything we shared. Every joke, every pun, every sage word of advice.

I know I’m not completely monstrous to look at, so I have no idea what transpired that night. Part of me regrets taking it to video—he was right in the sense that everything was perfect the way it was. I must’ve ruined the illusion for him.

Still, it doesn’t justify him ghosting me like that.

It was hurtful.

“Who do I remind you of?”

I blink at Parker’s words, returning from my dreary musings and setting the bowl of popcorn on the side table. “Just… someone I used to talk to. It’s nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“He was…” Swallowing, I debate how much I should confess to him, but I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. “He was kind of a pen pal. He, um… he was the recipient of my husband’s heart. I reached out during a particularly rough time in the grieving process, and he replied to me. We had a connection.”

Parker studies me, expressionless. “Is that important to you?”

“What? The connection?”

“The heart.”

I hesitate, my eyes dancing away from his.

Is it?

I mean, it was. For a while, it was everything. Zephyr and his heart were my final tie to Charlie—the last tangible piece of the man I loved withmywhole heart.

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