Page 147 of Twisted Needs

I stare down at the manuscript again. Most of this story came straight from my therapy journals. Entire paragraphs lifted from sessions where I was trying to untangle why loving Parker felt like the end of the world. And now somebody thinks that voice is worth something. That’s terrifying…the possibility that they might actually be right.

Three months away from Parker. My stomach twists immediately. I haven’t even told him I love him yet. Not in the way I keep rehearsing in my head at two in the morning when he’s asleep beside me.

“Anders.” I look up. “There’s no pressure,” Dr. Keir says gently. “I just would’ve hated myself if I didn’t tell you.” She slides the bound manuscript toward me. “The only printed copy. My wife had it bound for you.”

I grab it immediately. “Thank you.” The words come out too fast because suddenly I desperately need to leave before I fully lose my mind in front of her.

“And here.” She slides one final page toward me. “If you change your mind.” A name. A phone number. Gaten Publishing letterhead. “The author specifically requested you after reading the manuscript.”

My ears ring so loudly I barely hear the rest.

“There are people who stand to gain something from hearing your voice, Anders,” Dr. Keir says softly. “Whether it’s through academia or fiction or something else entirely.”

I stand abruptly, clutching the manuscript against my chest. “Thank you,” I repeat myself.

“Anderson.” I pause at the door. “Think very carefully about what you want your life to look like after graduation,” she says. “Not what feels safest. Not what feels expected. What you actually want.”

Two months ago, the future felt simple. I’d go to grad school, maybe do some research. Georgetown was supposed to be my home base. Everything was mapped out neatly enough that I never had to question it. Now I have a manuscript tucked beneath my arm, a phone number in my pocket, and a life that suddenly seems a lot bigger than the one I’d planned. And I’m not sure whether that terrifies me or excites me.

I nod once. But the second I step out into the hallway, all I can think about is Parker waiting for me at home and how terrifying it suddenly feels that my future no longer feels as certain.

CHAPTER 41

I LOVE NORMAL

ANDERS

Delores’s is packed to the brim today. There’s about a million people here, all talking over each other. Servers walk past us so quickly they’re followed by gusts of wind. And Parker sits beside me like none of it matters.

Beside me. Close enough that our knees keep brushing together beneath the table every few minutes. There’s something deeply disorienting about seeing the private side of Parker that exists comfortably in public. He reaches for my hand absentmindedly while looking over the menu, pulls my chair a little closer to his without thinking about it, and lets his arm rest along the back of my seat.

And the strangest part is that nobody cares. Nobody is staring at us or visibly disgusted. The world doesn’t stop just because Parker and I are sitting next to each other at a nice brunch.

It feels normal. I love normal.

Parker hooks his finger loosely around mine. “So,” he says, glancing over at me, “you gonna make fun of me the entire date or wait until after we eat?”

“I haven’t decided yet. It depends.”

“Depends on what.”

“It’s our first date, Pet’ka. I don’t want to scare you away.”

He lets out an amused grunt. “I like it when you’re all scary. It’s cute.”

“Whatever.” I smile down at the condensation gathering around my water glass before finally asking, “so how bad was the Bishop conversation?” When Parker groans immediately, I huff. “Damn. That bad?”

“He told me our age gap is the same as him and his oldest son’s.”

I wince. “Jesus.”

“He said he’s glad I’m happy,” Parker says after a moment. “Then immediately told me not to get comfortable.”

“You need a better best friend,” I mutter. “Between him and my brother…I’m starting to seriously question your judgement, babe.”

Parker rolls his eyes. “He’s jealous he ended up with a boring, age-appropriate ex-wife instead of a handsome, inappropriately-young boyfriend.”

The waitress arrives with our food before I can say anything, and while she sets our plates down, I catch myself watching the interaction a little too vigilant.