Of course he does. He’s about to marry his little brother’s ex. You can’t get much messier than that.
“I swear to you, I would never intentionally hurt her. Ever,” I vow to him. “I’m here to prove that.”
“And if she wants no part of it and can’t forgive you?” He lifts a brow.
I shrug. “I guess I’ll have to accept that. But she’s it for me. It’s her or no one.”
He holds my gaze before he takes off his hat and drops it on the counter. “Well, good luck, buddy. My sister may be the sweetest human on earth, but she can hold a grudge.”
Cooper chuckles. “They all do. Dakota still won’t speak to Mariann Smith.”
“Isn’t that the chick you made out with at the homecoming in seventh grade?” I chuckle.
“Yep, and she hasn’t let it go.”
Maddox sighs. “Parker, you and I have been friends a long time.” He picks up his hat, then places it back on his head. “I respect you. So this is your only warning. You fuck with my sister’s heart, I’ll put you in the ground.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” I hold out my hand and he shakes it.
Cooper chuckles, then inches a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“Hope you’re not planning on walking home, Maddox. Looks like our girls are sleeping at your house.”
Maddox shoots me a look. “This is all your fault. Because of your dumb ass, I won’t be getting my d—”
“Okay, man. That’s my sister.” Cooper lifts a hand. “And on that note, I’m going to bed. Don’t wake up Ari. She’s feral when she doesn’t get eight hours of sleep.”
Laughing, I push to my feet. I forgot there was a teenage girl down the hallway. Trace too.
“Guess I’m on the couch.” Maddox plops down on the sofa as I walk out the front door to head to the loft. I have my mind madeup. Tomorrow morning, I’ll bare my soul. I’ll tell Laiken the truth and pray she can find it in her heart one day to forgive me.
Chapter twenty-one
Laiken
“Coffee?” Ivy shoots me a sympathetic smile as she slides a steaming cup across the kitchen counter.
“Thank you.” My palm wraps around the ceramic. “And thanks for letting me crash.”
Crash. Last night was more than a crash. It was a natural disaster. I cried the entire drive home. All the way through my shower, then I cried some more as Ivy, Dakota, and I snuggled up on the couch until I finally fell asleep. I guess I never reallymournedwhat we had lost. Sure, I’d cried. Been angry. But this was more. I finally got to face him. Let him see just how muchhe hurt me. Which revealed a truth to myself I wasn’t ready to accept.I still love him.I’m still not over it. Over him.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks as she grabs a banana from the fruit basket.
I sip my coffee as Dakota walks into the kitchen.
“Morning.” She pads to the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice. “We’re ready if you are.”
Meaning they are champing at the bit and will not let me leave this cabin until I spill the metaphorical beans on the saga ofLaiken and Parker.
Taking a breath, I set my cup on the table. I’ve never shared what existed between Parker and me. At the time, he was only here for two months during the summer and sometimes he would visit during the year. It was new. It was fast, and it wasmine.It was something I looked forward to every year. To see his smiling face, those delicious jeans, and that tattered cowboy hat.
For two months, we had ultimate bliss. And in the months between, we had our postcards. We had our promises. Our plans. I held onto something that felt safe. I felt as if my heart was the only thing that touched it. Not people. Not the world. I was no stranger to unexpected tragedy. My father was a prime example. And in those months after his death, I found myself carefully crafting my relationships. I had already experienced the weight of mourning in front of an entire town when my father passed. That was hard enough even though most people offered encouragement and prayers. I learned the hard way. So the second I realized I was head over heels in love with Parker Stillwater, I knew I’d never survive if I lost him in front of the world. It would hurt so much worse.
But I was wrong. Silent suffering was almost unbearable. Then I lost myself.
“Parker and I used to be a thing,” I admit vaguely.
“A thing?” Ivy leans back against the counter in her pink ruffled pajamas.
