Page 503 of Hate Mates

LUNA

That did not work out how I wanted it to.

I walk away from Parker’s store with tears streaming down my face too fast to stop, but I force myself to keep walking. I can’t break down on the sidewalk in the middle of town. I don’t need everyone knowing that I’m still a mess and can’t even walk into an art gallery without bursting into tears.

My hands are trembling with the vision of my mother still very clear in my mind. It was more of a shock, I think.

Still, I keep walking. I got up this morning determined to try again on Anne’s advice. While I got dressed, I decided thattrying againmeant clearing the air after the discussion we had on the beach. Maybe even apologizing for how I stormed off, and apologize again for the party.

I should’ve kept other people in mind when my friends were blasting music all night. But the plan was to work up to that. The plan was to be honest without telling Parker all the details and start over again.

And then he had that sketch of my mom, and it just knocked the wind out of me. My throat gets tight and fresh tears threatenat the memory of simply looking down, the words I’m sorry on my lips and there she was.

Maybe that’s because I’ve felt like I’m the only one who remembers her. Like I’m the only one who ever knew her when she was alive. Like she never made an impression on the rest of the world, so I’m the only one who knows what we lost when she died. We didn't have family outside of each other. It was a small funeral and everyone else has simply moved on. I don’t know how.

I know I’m not the only one who remembers her. I might not even be the only one who misses her every day. She was my mom though and I was her only daughter. And it hurts. I can’t make it stop hurting.

I slow my pace and breathe, then breathe some more, then finally get to the condo.

Inside, the tears don’t fully dry up, but they stop enough for me to catch my breath completely. I fill up the bathtub and soak in the hot water until I can bring myself to get dressed again, then make myself a cup of tea and sit down on the couch with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

This is why I came to this town, isn’t it? At least a little bit. I came here because I have memories with my mom here. Becauseshehad memories of this town and the time we spent here when she was alive. Because I thought it would remind me of her…while alsonotreminding me of her. Or whilemostlyreminding me of the beautiful days we had and not the fact that we’ll never have a day together again.

Parker captured one of those moments worth remembering. I don’t even have a photo of her like that on the beach, but he painted her. With sleep dragging me under all I can think is that I don’t know how I’m going to be able to see Parker face to face. Next time a letter will have to do and then I’m hiding from him from here on out.

The next day, when I’m shopping for groceries, I spy something on the shelf and pick it up for him, then spend an hour at home afterward agonizing over the note I write to him. Present on table, pen in hand, I scribble out an explanation and then crumple up paper after paper and toss it in the trash. I try to keep it simple and not ramble, but my emotions aren't simple and I don’t know how to separate them from the apology.

Knock, knock. Someone knocks at the door before I can finish. With a heavy sigh, I put the pen down and assume it’s going to be a package delivered.

“Coming,” I call, leaving the note on the coffee table and hurrying for the condo door. My sheer sweater sleeves sway by my wrists and my jean shorts are cut off mid thigh. At least I’m not in pajamas. I peek through the peephole and barely manage to stop myself from gasping. Parker’s on the other side. Parker camehere.

Shoot. I bite down on my bottom lip debating on whether it’s okay to just not answer. My heart races. More than it should. Mustering up all the courage I have, I open the door with shaking hands. “Hi. How are you?” I don’t know how I even got the words out. He stands there with a crisp white tee and navy shorts. His blue eyes brought out by the sunny day behind him and something settles in me.Thump. Thump. And still my heart picks up when he speaks.

“Hey.” He runs his free hand through sun-kissed brunette hair. “Is now a good time to talk for a minute?”

Thump, thump, thump. I swear my heart flips in my chest. It’s acting as foolish as I have and I can’t stop it.

“Of course.” I step back to let him in. He comes into the entryway, smelling like sunscreen and body wash. “Is everything okay?” I close my eyes slowly at the question. Once again feeling foolish. Of course it’s not. Anyone with two open eyes can know that.

“I don’t know.” His eyes search mine, and he holds out a little paper bag to me. “Listen, Luna, I don’t know what happened the other day, but I got you these. I wanted to apologize for upsetting you and replace the shell that broke. I’m sorry I came on so strong.”

I pause for a moment, surprised that he’s the one apologizing.

“Thank you.” I take the bag and look inside. Ten shells, maybe fifteen, all the same kind I picked up the other day. “Thanks, Parker. I—” My throat closes up. “I wanted to apologize too, but I didn’t want to come off badly. I got you—” I go into the living room and get the earplugs, then take them back to him, my face hot. “I was in the middle of writing you a note, actually. I’m sorry we kept you awake. I don’t know how much you can hear from here and I didn’t want it to seem mean to get them for you. I thought it might be funny and—-” My nervous rambling is cut off. My ears hot and my heart still disobeying the rest of me.

“You’ve kept me awake even more since then.”

“I have?”Thump. Thump. My eyes go wide. I’ve been so quiet.

Then he leans in, his strong hand wrapping around my chin, and kisses me. It’s sweet. His touch is soft and my heart slows for a moment. As if not wanting to run away from this. I can’t help sighing into his mouth and deepening the kiss when it feels like he’s going to pull away.

The relief and nearly the act of falling is far too tempting when he kisses me, soft, yet passionate, like he’s been wanting to do this for a long time.

Parker pulls away and bites his lip, his eyes dark and hot. It’s nothing like he looked the other day at the beach. This is all Parker wanting me. I recognize the passion in his eyes and the warmth that flows through me. It ignites like a smoldering fire finally given tinder.

I haven’t felt like wanting myself, but suddenly—there he is. There’s a man I want desperately. A man who brought me shells because he worried about me and kissed me because he wanted to. I could taste it in the kiss. Hewantsme.And I want him.

“I hope that was–” Parker says, voice low and his eyes hungry with a primal desire.

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