Page 28 of My Cowboy Salvation
I stare into a face that looks eerily like his dad’s. The same cheekbones, same jawline, same color hair. Fortunately, Parker’s eyes are brown, like his mom’s, so it isn’t like I’m staring at a younger version of Logan. Although, now as they stand in front of me, I see other differences. Like the confidence and strength in something as simple as Logan’s stance, in the breadth of his shoulders, in the way he brings his mug to his mouth to take a drink that Parker can’t quite pull off.
I’m embarrassed to admit I have a moment of brief comparison to some other… attributes. But there are, fortunately, also more contrasts than similarities between the two men. Parker was eighteen years old the last time we had sex, and although in the year we were sexually intimate, he was definitely less experienced, less confident, and a lot quicker in the lovemaking than his dad. There also was the striking fact that being with Logan meant far more to me. There was a connection there I’ve never had with Parker or anyone else.
Thank God.
“Thanks, Parker,” I say, sliding my hand through my hair. “It’s shorter, but I’m adjusting. And you look good, too. How is Lauren? Did she come with you?” I ask, referring to his girlfriend, who he’s been dating for almost two years.
He appears sheepish. “I guess you and I haven’t really talked. Lauren and I broke up a couple of months ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, and instantly feel bad that in the few communications we’ve had, I’ve made it entirely about me. “I didn’t realize.”
“You couldn’t know. It was probably for the best. We were on two different paths, different places. You remember how that goes,” he says, grinning at me, reminding me of what I told him when I ended things years before.
“Well, sit down. Both of you,” I say, suddenly feeling the awkwardness in the situation as Logan has just been watching us both, his expression inscrutable. “I made breakfast, and we should eat it before it’s too cold.”
It only takes the three of us a couple minutes to set the table and place the food on it before we gather around it. I take the open seat between them, not able to meet Logan’s eyes just yet, instead holding my coffee cup in front of me.
“I’m happy you finally made it up here to see the place, Parker,” Logan says, biting into a piece of bacon. “That’s quite a distance to drive.”
I stare at Parker. “You drove all the way here from LA? What is that? Like fifteen hours?”
“Closer to twenty hours of drive time, but I crashed in Idaho Falls last night before getting back on the road. It was worth it to see you and make sure you're safe. The scenery wasn’t bad to look at either.”
“You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary on the drive here, did you?” Logan asks casually, tossing the rest of his bacon in his mouth. “No one strange or suspicious who might have been tailing you?”
Parker smiles at his dad like he’s humoring him. “No, Dad. No one was following me here, nor was anyone tailing me around LA. Give me some credit.”
“I can’t imagine Simon would have any reason to look twice at Parker,” I add quickly to reassure Logan. “I only mentioned him in passing as a high school boyfriend, and unlike the few friends I’ve stayed in touch with, Parker isn’t on social media. I can’t imagine any reason why Simon would have to look into him.”
“All true.” Parker stabs a piece of a waffle and shovels it into his mouth. “Wow. This is good. You said you made this, Dylan?” he asks suspiciously. “The Dylan I once knew could barely pop a bag of microwave popcorn without burning it.”
I slug him good-naturedly in the shoulder, remembering the night I set the timer for ten and a half minutes instead of one and a half and stunk up his mom’s house with the acrid smell.
I glance over to Logan and notice he’s not making eye contact with me, his attention entirely on his plate. “So how long are you going to be here?” I ask Parker.
He shrugs and swallows his bite. “Well.” He sounds a little more nervous as he glances at his dad. “I have a few weeks before I’m scheduled to take the LSAT. So if it’s all right with you, I thought I might stick around for a couple of weeks and get some studying in.”
There’s a long pause as we both digest this. Then Logan smiles with pride at his son. “The LSAT? So you’re going to law school?”
“I am if I can get a decent test score.”
I’m just as proud and excited for Parker as his dad, but I also am a little stunned by the possibility that Parker will be staying. Here. In this house. With Logan and me.
If Logan has any similar inner turmoil at that possibility, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. “You will, son. I have no doubt. And of course you can stay here. I’m happy to have you.”
“Me too,” I add and smile at my friend. Parker would be a good attorney. He’s always been smart, good at debating any and all topics, and, more importantly, he’s a very compassionate guy. The world needs more compassionate attorneys like Parker, less psychopathic attorneys like Simon. “Do you have any schools in mind?”
“UC Berkeley. UCLA. UC Irvine. Loyola. The test scores come back at the end of November, plenty of time for me to assess my prospects and apply by the February deadlines. Anyhow, I did a prep class and have a bunch of books to help study, so I’ll keep myself scarce.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be happy for the company,” I say.
“Aren’t you still playing the cello?” Parker asks, giving me a concerned look.
“I had to leave my cello in California, so it’s been months since I practiced. But your dad found one for me the other day, so I’ve been slowly getting into it again.”
“Good,” he says, nodding. “I know how much your music means to you. In fact, maybe you would consider playing a little for us? It’s been years since I heard you, and I would love to hear how you’ve come along.”
I can’t deny feeling some trepidation at the prospect of performing for people after feeling forced to do so under Simon’s watchful eye for so long.