Page 164 of Untouchable

He holds his tongue about Parker's ex—because he is Parker's ex, and he must have at least started with some redeeming qualities.

It simply aches hard, like the bone-deep throb of his hip, when he hears Parker talk like this, realizes how fucked up Cole had been to him—knowing, now, what it really must have been like at the time, what it sounded like and how it looked. Thank God for Mindy, Harp thinks abruptly.

"Come on," Harp says, rubbing a hand down his back. "That doesn't matter right now. And you saw how fast he fucked right off once someone stood up to him, huh?" Parker nods slowly but he still has a thousand yard stare.

Christ, first a concussion and now this confrontation with his ex. What the hell kind of day?

Harp hugs Parker gently and then digs in his pocket. "I half-forgot, I got you a granola bar since we would've been eating by now."

Parker smiles and accepts the crunchy piece of crap that they're both pretending is better for him than a straight-up cookie.

"I called Mindy at work," Harp says as Parker begins chewing, "so don't worry about texting her. She said she can drive you in to work tomorrow, if you go, but I said to go ahead and start planning the day without you."

* * *

“Really?”Parker said. He feels another wash of relief, and pulls out his phone—he’d just sent the text when Cole had walked in, and now he has a new message from Mindy.

>>MINDY: harp called me. take care of yourself ill ttyl! and dont worry about yr appts i talked to dr breen and morgans gonna cover them

>>MINDY: love u glad youre ok

>>MINDY: tell harp hes still on probation but hes doing a good job

Parker laughs softly and shows Harp the screen.

“Even after all that shit with Cole happened,” he says, leaning his head against Harp’s shoulder, “I… don’t know if I’d go back in time and change things if I could. Because he’s the reason I ended up in Mink Creek and now… I have such good people in my life. Like you and Mindy and even the people I work with and—”

He sniffles, realizing he’s starting to tear up. He’s not even sad, but the whole afternoon has left him feeling raw and frazzled and thoroughly depleted.

"Hey, come on, just relax," Harp says, stroking a hand through his hair. "Doc should be right around the corner and then we can take you home. And don't worry about your car, alright? It's taken care of for the night."

"What? Harp, wh—"

But he's interrupted by the doctor. She steps in and they part gently, Harp keeping a steadying hand on Parker's back. She explains that everything came back fine in his imaging, and that although he'll be sore and maybe a little confused, he's internally sound.

"Does he need stitches?" Harp asks with a raised eyebrow. "Another physician came by and said it looked like he would..."

The doctor tucks her head. "No. We can put a bandage on it here, and he'll want to clean it when he gets home, but no suture," she says.

Harp and Parker exchange a look. Harp is smirking.

"No driving for at least 24 hours," she continues. "And as much rest as possible tonight. No work tomorrow and take naps as you need them."

“Fuck,” Parker whispers under his breath. Even though he knows his shifts for tomorrow are covered, the mandatory bed rest brings home the realness of the accident, and how inconvenient it is to nearly lose your life.

The doctor gives a few more instructions and bandages the cut on Parker’s head before sending them on their way.

“Wait,” Parker says, halting in the hallway as Harp guides them to the exit. “My car will be fine in that turn out where you left it, right? No one’s on that road anyway, right?”

"It's already at a shop, Parker," Harp says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, showing Parker an email he’s pulled up. "They already got photos of it tonight, so I'll forward these to you and you can send them to your insurance in the morning."

Parker flips through the photos of the damage.

“Wait…” Parker says stupidly as he looks at the photos of his own car—and, god, it does not look good. “My car is… what?”

He’s not sure if it’s the concussion or the exhaustion but he feels like he’s staring at a jigsaw puzzle where each piece belongs to a different picture.

* * *

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