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The weight of Parker’s gaze followed me until I turned the corner into the galley kitchen. I took one last look at the number I didn’t recognize, then shrugged and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey there, Lola girl.”
My whole body clenched at the raspy voice.
“How’d you get this number?”
“Is that any way to greet your favorite uncle?”
“You were Dad’s step-brother. That doesn’t make you my uncle.”
“The law disagrees with you there, Lola girl.”
My teeth ground together with enough force to make my jaw ache. “Don’t call me that.”
George laughed and devolved into a coughing fit. “When are you coming home? The shower in the big bathroom is leaking something fierce.”
I switched the phone to my other ear and ventured farther into the kitchen, leaning against the sink. “I told you. I’m not coming back. You were the one who insisted on living there—figure it out for yourself.”
My throat nearly closed on the words. He didn’t give a shit about the plumbing. “Uncle” George called me every couple of months to try to get me to return to Brookville, Wisconsin for the express purpose of locking me down as his golden goose. His entitled ass thought he’d earned it by acting as my dad’s manager in the early years of his career. Unfortunately, a state judge agreed.
As the beneficiary of Dad’s estate, I was ordered to pay support for George while he burned through several other high-profile businesses. Except I didn’t have full access to my dad’s money until I turned twenty-five. Our solution was to let George live in my old house and give him most of my trust stipend until the rest of the money was released to me.
I had enough to cover the rest of my college expenses after my scholarship, but it was a paltry amount compared to what he got.
“I could call a plumber, but he’s going to charge a godawful amount. I’d hate to have to report to the authorities that you’re not fulfilling your end of the deal,” he wheezed.
He could easily afford a plumber, and nowhere did it say I had to personally respond to his every need. This phone call was harassment, pure and simple.
I closed my eyes and rubbed the building pressure at my temples. “It’s the middle of football season. Even if I wanted to come home—which I don’t, to be clear—I couldn’t get away right now.”
He laughed again, this time with an edge of mockery. “C’mon now. Aren’t you a little old to be chasing that fantasy? Girls can’t play football. Your team will survive without your fine ass cheering them on from the bench.”
“Listen, you sexist parasite, I’ve followed the court order to the letter. I’m not your property manager. Call a plumber or don’t. I’m not coming back.”
I couldn’t choke out the word home one more time. The house where I’d lived with Dad had stopped being home after he died. When George had moved in, he’d destroyed any remnants that remained. Hot tears pricked my eyes, both at the sharp memory and at my inability to do anything about the situation.
George laughed on the line, but I stabbed at the screen to end the call. If the asshole really did call the case worker, I’d deal with it then.
A telltale shiver of awareness raised the hair on my arms a second before Parker spoke from behind me.
“You okay?”
His quiet presence should have surprised me. Booming explosions and Mac’s chatter came from the living room, so I knew the others were still watching the movie. Parker had known though. Somehow, from the other room, he’d known I wasn’t okay.
The question was a courtesy. I swiped at my cheeks before turning, but the effort was in vain. Parker could read me from across a football field. The two-foot gap in the kitchen was nothing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need a minute alone.” I didn’t wait for him to respond, simply walked past him out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
It figured Parker would come looking for me when I was at my weakest. I hated feeling out of control, and everything was spiraling that direction. The stupid Human Sexuality class, our shaky football game, now George—I should have told Eva no tonight and gone to the weight room. At least there no one would see me break.
Parker didn’t waste any time. I’d barely made it to the closest door before he caught up to me. “Not that one.”
His words halted me with my hand on the knob, but I didn’t dare look at him. “What’s the difference?”
“That one is Mac’s room. Mine’s at the end. No one will bother you in there, and I have my own bathroom.”
