Page 127 of Mother Parker
“And this is crazy? I can give you my number,” Duke grinned, coming back to Parker with his hands full.
“Hey, Carly Rae Jepsen, he’s taken,” I told Duke.
I’d met the man over the years whenever one of the girls needed medical attention. Duke devoted all his time to his sanctuary with a farm full of injured or abandoned animals. I’d never seen him in town. The only reason I knew he existed was because of the Golden Girls. I wondered whether he was a recluse or if there was a story there.
He didn’t strike me as a recluse, considering his wit and charm, but perhaps I was wrong.
“Okay, if you cry, you don’t get a treat,” Duke said, wiping around Parker’s bullet wound.
“Good. I’m not into worms or crickets,” he replied. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Duke threw a glance at me before he turned back to Parker with a needle and thread.
“Just wag your tail if it hurts,” he said, shaking his head.
Half an hour and a cup of tea later, as well as an explanation of what had taken place at the shop—just the basics, not the details, of course—we made our way back to town, leaving Sophia in Duke’s trusted hands.
We reached my house, and thankfully there were no police or people around anymore. Just tape and glass everywhere.
I parked in the back and turned the engine off.
“What are you doing? We need to go to the station,” Parker said.
I fell back on the seat and looked at Parker.
“Let them come and arrest me then. I’m tired.”
Parker sighed.
“Me too.”
“Let’s go to sleep,” I said, and we got out of the car.
I opened the back door and locked the connecting one between the hallway and the shop. Considering my shop was a free-for-all to the elements and any desperate thieves, I wasn’t risking it.
I took a deep breath when I opened the apartment door, bracing myself for what I was about to witness.
Nothing.
No damage. No broken glass everywhere. Just a lingering smoke smell, but I could live with it for a night.
Parker tried to climb the ladder to bed, but I stopped him.
“I am not putting you through this and risking another trip to the vet,” I told him.
He glowered.
“We’re using the guest room until you heal,” I said.
I helped Parker discard his bloodied clothes, cleaned him up as much as possible with a wet towel, and finally took his hand and led him to the guestroom.
We lay down face to face, holding hands. The strain in my body dissipated, leaving me with nothing but numbness and fuzziness. I was just about ready to pass out.
“Did you mean it?” he asked me, his hushed voice ringing like a melody across my skin.
“Hm?” I asked.
“That you love me too. Did you mean it?”
