Page 42 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

PARKER

T he ancient fold-out bed dominates Nana’s living room like a ship that lost its way at sea.

She’s propped up, working her way through the grilled chicken I picked up on the way back from the hospital.

The TV murmurs on low, some reality show where people win money by turning on each other, which feels fitting after the day we’ve had.

I shift in the armchair, my shoulders still burning from the stress.

The hours pacing the hall outside her hospital room…

The look on my father’s face when he told me I was “dead to him,” sometime around three o’clock, when he finally realized that he wasn’t going to get his way…

He really thought he was going to be able to convince me to shut up and go along if he just kept at me long enough.

To be fair, I’ve never stood up to him like this before. But then he’s never threatened someone I love before, either.

The thought makes me wince.

Speaking of people I love…

I have to call Makena as soon as I get Nana settled for the night. I pull out my phone, glancing down at the screen, but there’s still no reply to the texts I sent an hour ago, explaining that things got worse after she left and apologizing for not texting sooner.

But maybe she’s still in the air.

I’m not sure what flight she was on. She didn’t say.

Probably because she hates you now , the inner voice supplies, making me wince again.

“You can stop pretending you’re watching this foolishness,” Nana says, wiping her fingers on her faded cloth napkin. “Your good leg’s been bouncing for ten minutes straight.”

I still my knee. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” She drops the napkin onto her plate, turning her sharp gaze my way. “Today was ugly. No sense pretending otherwise.”

My throat tightens.

She knows. Of course, she knows.

I tried to keep Dad out of her room as much as possible after his initial “this is what is best for you, Mom” lecture, but his voice carries.

“I should be the one apologizing,” she adds, her brow furrowing.

“I tried, Leo. I tried so hard with your dad. But he never understood what I was trying to teach him, and I never understood why he was so ashamed of me. I know losing his father when he did wasn’t easy on him, but I…

” She presses her lips together, her throat working for a beat before she adds, “I’ve grieved it all.

Grieved him . I wish things had gone differently, if only so you wouldn’t have had to suffer the way you have.

You deserved a better daddy, baby, you really did. ”

I reach over, taking her hand. “I’m okay, Nana. I don’t blame you. I never have. Dad is who he is. Some people just…suck.”

Her lips twitch. “He’s chosen a path I don’t understand, that’s for sure.

” She squeezes my fingers, the strength in her grip making me hope all the scary health stuff is behind us.

“But he brought you into the world, and for that I will always be grateful. I’m sorry you had to defend me from my own son today, but I wasn’t surprised that you did.

You’re a good man, Leo. I’m so proud of you, and I love you with every piece of my heart.

I always will, even when I’m not here anymore. You know that, right?”

I nod, fighting tears for real now. I clear my throat.

“But let’s not talk about that, okay? You heard what the doctor said—you’re in great health for your age.

You just need to stop forgetting that you’re not twenty anymore and slow down a little.

Drink water. Go to bed before midnight. Lay off the pole dancing. ”

“I know,” she says, “but it’s hard. I have so much I want to do before my time’s up. Those dicks don’t crochet themselves, you know.”

I grin. “So, I’ve heard.”

She casts a pointed glance over my shoulder. “So, are we going to address the other elephant in the room? Where’s my girl? Did your daddy scare her off?”

My jaw tightens again. “Something like that.”

She grunts. “Do I need to call her up and apologize for Phillip? Do you think that would help?”

I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t Dad… He didn’t… I mean, it was kind of him, kind of…” I exhale. “It was me. I asked her to leave. It seemed like the right thing at the time, but now…”

Nana’s pained expression stings more than her irritation ever could. “Oh, no. Honey, why’d you do that?”

“She jumped in and started yelling at Dad, trying to stick up for me. Which was sweet, but also…overwhelming.” I shake my head, chewing the inside of my lip.

“I couldn’t manage her feelings and Dad’s feelings and my feelings, all at the same time.

Something had to give. It wasn’t like Dad was going to hit the road just because I asked him to, and I had to stay. For you. So…”

“I understand it was a tough spot, but you don’t have to manage other people’s feelings, Leo,” she says. “That’s not your job. Your job is to stay in your integrity, and if someone gets upset or unhappy with you about that, let them.”

“I know,” I say, starting to feel the tiniest bit defensive. “I made Dad plenty unhappy with me today. You saw that.”

Nana nods. “You did, and I was proud of you. But the same applies to people you have good relationships with, too. It’s okay to clash with Makena.

To tell her things she doesn’t want to hear or disagree in the name of staying true to yourself.

” She pauses, arching a brow as she adds in a more pointed voice, “What’s not okay is to shut a person down for standing up for what she believes in.

Which, this time, happened to be you.” She sniffs.

“Especially not Makena. She’s skittish already. ”

“Exactly! She’s skittish. Known fact. That’s part of why I felt like I had to remove her from the equation,” I say. “I didn’t have the bandwidth to worry about scaring her away today.”

“So, you rejected her support and pushed her away, instead?”

My lips part on another defensive parry, but after a beat, I have to admit…

“Well, when you put it like that…” I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “Fuck. I fucked up. Didn’t I?”

Her lips pucker. “You want my two cents?”

“I already know what you’re going to say. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you fucked up,” she confirms. “But in a very understandable way. You were under a lot of stress. Makena knows that, and I’d bet every penny in the cash box, she’s already looking for an excuse to forgive you.

What matters now is that you make things right as quickly as possible. Have you called her?”

“I texted.” Before she can yell at me, I insist, “Our generation doesn’t call without an invitation, Nana.”

“Why on earth not?”

“I don’t know,” I say, flopping my arms. “An unexpected phone call is aggressive. Borderline rude. And a lot of people have phone anxiety, and I don’t know if she does, but she knows I hate calls and never call.

If I call, she’ll think I’m on fire or something, and I don’t want to freak her out any more than I have already.

She’ll see my texts, and if she wants me to call, she’ll tell me to call.

Nana smiles. “Okay. Well, you know best about all that. Just be honest in the texts. Don’t hold anything back. Show her you’ve learned your lesson and will never stab her in the heart while she’s trying to protect you again.”

I wince again. “You think that’s how she felt?”

“Reading between the lines, it doesn’t sound like her home life was much better than yours, baby,” she says.

“And she didn’t have a nana to convince her she was lovable.

Always. No matter what. Just the way she was made.

Even when she makes mistakes or tries to love her man in a way he doesn’t want to be loved at the moment. ”

“You think she loves me?” I ask, my throat going tight again. I drag my fingers through my hair. “Fuck. I’ve really fucked up. Big time.”

She reaches over, patting my hand. “But you’ll make it better. I know you will. And I’ll help as much as I can. Let’s get a good night’s sleep, and we can leave first thing in the morning.”

My brows shoot up. “What? Nana, you can’t?—”

“Well, of course, I can.”

“You just got out of the hospital.”

“And the doctor said I was in great shape,” she says, throwing my words back in my face.

“I just need to take it easy for a while. I can take it easy in New Orleans as easily as I can here. And I’ve been wanting to see your new place.

” She smiles, that familiar mischief in her eyes again as she adds, “Besides, can you imagine how much that will piss off your daddy? To see shots of us enjoying ourselves on his home turf after he tried so hard to get me locked up in the old folks’ home? He’ll be eating his own fist.”

“Assuming he still follows me on social media,” I warn.

“Oh, he’s still following you,” she says. “The only thing Phillip hates more than not being in control is being in the dark. He’ll want to keep tabs on us, if only so he won’t miss his chance to say he told us so.”

I nod, seeing her point. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right,” she says. “And I’m fine to travel, I promise. I’ll stay in the guest room and leave my hearing aid out, so I won’t interfere with the make-up sex.”

“Assuming there’s going to be make-up sex,” I mutter.

“She might not let me in the house.” The words have barely left my lips when I realize there’s a much more likely, much less desirable option.

“Or she’ll already be gone by the time we get there.

” I curse as I surge to my feet. “I need to call her. Now. If she’s still in the air, I’ll leave a message. Are you done with your tray?”

“I am, but I can take care of it,” Nana says. “I’m not?—”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” I insist, pointing a warning finger at her chest as I collect the tray.

“That’s part of the deal. If we go to New Orleans, you have to let me wait on you.

For at least a few days. And the second you feel the slightest bit off, we’re on our way to the ER.

The good one is near Dad’s house. He’s wrong about most things, but he wasn’t wrong about that being the best hospital in New Orleans. ”

She lifts her right hand in the air with a nod. “Yes, sir. I solemnly swear to be a good patient for exactly three days. Then, I want to go walk around the French Quarter and get lunch at that place we like. It’s been too long since I’ve had good gumbo.”

“We’ll see how you feel,” I say as I start toward the kitchen. “No promises. This is a wait-and-see situation.”

She huffs behind me. “Fine, but I’m going to feel fine. I’m back to eighty percent already.”

After rinsing her plate and loading it into the dishwasher, I step outside to call Makena.

I hold my breath as the phone rings, pacing back and forth on the porch in the twilight, but I’m not really surprised when it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, I hope you’re making it home safe,” I say, sounding weirdly breathless.

I make an effort to pull myself together before adding, “Call me when you land. I miss you already, and I’m sorry about this morning.

It was a fucking nightmare, but I could have handled things better.

But…yeah.” I wince at how stupid I sound.

I should have known better than to freestyle this, but it’s too late now.

“Anyway, we’re home, and Nana’s doing much better.

So, all’s well that ends well, I guess. Call me when you get this. Miss you.”

I want to say “I love you,” but that’s not something you say for the first time on the phone. Or in a voice message.

It’s something you say in person.

And I intend to say it as soon as I see her pretty face tomorrow, along with more “I’m sorry,” and “forgive me,” and “you can trust me not to make this mistake again.” I just hope I get the chance to make different mistakes.

I hope this is a fuck-up we can find our way back from, not the proof she needs that she never should have stopped running.

I call again an hour later, then one last time before I go to sleep, around eleven, but she doesn’t answer. I suppose there’s a chance she’s still traveling, or that she put her phone in airplane mode for the flight and forgot to turn it off, but…

But I don’t really believe that.

I go to sleep with a sinking feeling in my gut and wake up to find the freefall has spread to my chest.

She still hasn’t responded, not so much as a thumbs-up emoji.