Brothers of Paradise Series

“You did,” he says, grinning. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah, it was.” My mind travels back to what happened when we stopped outside my house. When he’d brushed a hand over my cheek, and I’d wet my lips, wondering if it was happening. If he was going to do this, cross the boundary between us, the one made up of so many layers. Best friend’s older brother. A grade above me in high school. Jock and misfit.

But he didn’t.

He told me I was beautiful, and that it was late, and I should go inside.

“You gave me a compliment too that night.”

“Yeah,” Parker says. “I remember that, too. But mine wasn’t an obvious lie.”

“Oh,” I breathe. My throat feels dry and I search for his previous words. “Well, I appreciated it regardless?”

He smiles. “I’d say it still stands, but seeing as how I’m hiring you to overhaul my website, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Probably not,” I say and reach for my notebook. I regret the words an instant later. Stupid, stupid.

“You know where to find me,” he says. “Whenever, wherever, if you want to discuss the website. Or,” he says with a wink, “which type of sprinkles are the best. I have strong opinions on that, and I suspect Emma does too.”

“Oh, she does now. Thank you.” I extend a hand. “Looking forward to working with you.”

Parker grins and takes my hand in his. Long fingers curl around mine, calluses on the insides of his palm chafing gently. “So do I, James.”

JAMIE

I drink my cup of coffee and look out at dawn’s first rays on Greene Street. It gets light early these days, earlier than when we usually wake up. The clock in the kitchen reads just past five thirty. Emma won’t be up for another hour at least, nor will my mother.

The coffee helps with my own tiredness, but actual sleep would have helped more. But it had been little and far in-between last night after Lee’s calls.

I hadn’t planned to pick up, even as he called a second time. And called again, and again. The last time we’d spoken he said he didn’t care either way if we stayed or left. But he’s changed his mind more than once before. And so I’d picked up the call.

Outside the window, a soft breeze catches the trees that line the street. Leaves stir softly. It’s a beautiful morning for a run. I change into a pair of stretchy shorts and an old T-shirt. It has paint stains from the time I re-did Emma’s old bedroom. Lee had hated the color I chose, so I’d re-painted it a week later.

Fuck him, I think, and his call with polite apologies and measured speech. And immediately after, I think fuck me, because the truth is that it would have worked on me two years ago. One year ago. I would have believed him, every manipulative word out of his mouth.

I hit the sidewalk outside the house in a run that sets my heart racing. I’m free now, at least. And I’m back here, with my daughter, with a job. With a future.

I reach the top of the street, right by the cul-de-sac, before my lungs start to burn. Freedom turns to torture.

I’m so out of shape.

Once, I’d been able to do this route before school. Now my lower back aches and there’s a burning sensation in my chest. It’s yet another thing I’ve let falter.

But I keep going, up the next street, and the one after that, beneath the trees and past the hedges. Birds sing happily above me, unaware of how close I am to expiring.

The streets are empty. People haven’t started their days yet, and I’m grateful for it. The last thing I need is to run into anyone from high school, or my mom’s friends. Or Lily. We haven’t spoken since that awkward conversation in the yacht club.

But the universe isn’t so kind.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

I round the next street and come to face-to-face with another runner. He’s heading toward me, black shorts and a white T-shirt. Strong, tanned arms move at his sides.

Because of course those are my odds.

Parker slows down when he sees me and I come to a grateful halt. My lungs pull in a few quick gulps of breath before he reaches me.

“Hey,” he says. “Out for a run?”

I nod. It’s safer than speaking just yet.

“I didn’t know you ran.”

“Not for years, now. But I just realized-” I take a deep breath-“that I have no muscle or stamina left.”

Parker’s eyes narrow, and I want to take back my words. “Well, you’re on your feet all day as a waitress. That’ll build your stamina. What you need is probably strength training.”

“Strength training?”

“Yeah. Have you ever lifted weights?”

I shake my head. “Not really, no.”

“Hmm,” he says, and then he gives a crooked smile. His face is flushed with color, sweaty and glorious, and he’s not panting at all. “I’m wondering if you’ll get mad at me for what I’ll say next.”

“Me? Mad?”

He laughs. “Yes, you, James. You always took me to task for my jock ways.”

“Well, you were very jock-y,” I say.

He doesn’t react like Lee would. There’s no snark or mocking, no feigned hurt. He just keeps grinning. “I was. And you were very artsy.”

“I had to keep up with Lily.”

“Jesus, yes. Didn’t the two of you try spoken word poetry one time, too?”

That makes me smile too. “We were awful.”

“I don’t think anyone is good at spoken word poetry.”

“Oh, some are wonderful, but two high schoolers from Paradise Shores with absolutely no life experience aren’t.”

Parker laughs and reaches for the hem of his white T-shirt. He pulls it up and wipes his face, exposing a slab of strong, tanned stomach. With each deep breath he takes the muscles shift beneath, showing the hint of a six-pack.

I quickly look away.

“Why are you out so early?” he asks. “Most people aren’t up yet.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Besides, I like avoiding people.”