Page 3 of Walking on Broken Paths

Chapter Three

Jesse freaking Melnik.

Holy. Shit.

Parker sat across from his old friend in The Churchill Arms, fingers clasped around a beer bottle.

On the table between them sat a nearly empty plate of nachos they’d ordered and devoured as they waited for their main course.

The pub was about at half capacity—fairly typical for a Wednesday evening—and the televisions spaced around the place aired a baseball game.

Parker was at the wrong angle and couldn’t see who was playing. Not that it mattered. A juggling clown singing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” ad nauseam wouldn’t have been able to pull his focus off Jesse.

Jesse freaking Melnik.

Christ.

Parker didn’t know whether to slug him for fifteen years of non-communication, hug him, or beg for NHL tickets.

“What?” Jesse asked, gesturing at Parker with his beer. “Why are you staring at me?”

Parker sat back in his chair and kicked his legs out, poking Jesse in the ankle beneath the table.

“Just... you look the same.” It was in the shape of his eyes and jaw, the hue of his lips, and the prominence of his nose.

“But also different.” His face had filled out, matured.

He’d grown a close-cropped beard that had a hint of red to it, unlike his hair, which was as thick and brown as ever.

He was taller than Parker remembered and built like he could take on a WWE wrestler and win.

But then, most NHL defencemen Parker had met were big guys. Jesse was no different.

Jesse grunted. “You look like you’ve gotten too much sun lately. Your nose is peeling.”

Parker went cross-eyed trying to look at it. “Damn it. It’s not even warm yet.”

“Doesn’t mean the sun’s rays aren’t strong. Remember the time you got sunburned on an overcast day?”

“Fucking UV rays.”

“You looked like a cute little lobster.”

“Fuck you.”

Jesse chuckled, and Parker couldn’t help but grin back at him.

If his future self had arrived to tell him how his night would play out, he would’ve laughed in his own face.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever see Jesse again except while watching a hockey game on TV, yet here he was, six-plus feet and 220-plus pounds of every one of Parker’s fantasies come true.

Was it fair that Jesse was sexier in the flesh than when he was giving a pre- or post-game interview on TV?

No, it was not.

“How’ve you been, Jess?”

Jesse waggled his head side to side. “Okay. You?”

“Okay. What brings you out this way? Visiting your parents?”

“Yeah.” Jesse’s gaze shuttered, then cleared in the next moment. “I don’t have anything going on in Vancouver, so I thought I’d spend the summer here. What about you? Visiting your dad?”

The question was a blow to the jugular. Parker picked at the label on his bottle. “Actually, I moved back late last summer. Dad got sick and... Anyway. He passed three months ago.”

“Fuck. Parks.” Jesse’s voice was rough. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he squeezed Parker’s hand and muttered another low, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Parker said with a little laugh, surprised he could find any amusement at all. “Fuck is right.”

“How come you’re still here? Are you heading back to Montreal soon?”

How had Jesse known he’d lived there? Had he googled Parker like Parker had googled him? The thought sent a rush of warmth through Parker. “No, I’m running Dad’s business now.”

A furrow appeared between Jesse’s eyebrows. “The dinner cruises?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Can’t someone else do that?”

“I don’t see a lineup of people willing to take my place.”

Except Joel Penny. But Joel didn’t want to take his place. Joel wanted to add Parker’s ship to his own business. That wasn’t the same thing.

“But you never wanted to take over from your dad.”

Avoiding Jesse’s gaze, Parker shrugged. “People change.”

“Not that much,” Jesse murmured. “You wanted to write, not, and I quote, ‘spend my time schmoozing unappreciative assholes playing tourist.’”

Parker scowled. “Why do you have to remember everything?”

Lips quirking, Jesse tapped his temple. “Memory of an elephant.”

“Take that memory somewhere else,” Parker grumbled, grabbing what remained of a soggy nacho from the plate between them.

Jesse snorted.

Parker threw the nacho at him.

Jesse threw it back.

And there they were, a couple of thirty-two-year-olds, grinning at each other as they tossed a soggy nacho back and forth into each other’s faces. It was like when they were kids, playing Keepie Uppie with a Spiderman-patterned beach ball.

Their server arrived with their meals, halting their shenanigans. Her curly grey hair was tied back into a long ponytail, and she eyed them both like they were her naughty grandkids who needed a good talking-to.

Parker swallowed a laugh. Jesse’s ears turned red.

“One butter chicken,” she said, setting the plate in front of Parker. “And a club sandwich with fries and a side Greek salad.” The second plate went in front of Jesse. “Anything else I can get you?”

They shook their heads and she left, taking the plate of nachos with her.

Parker pouted at her retreating back. “That was mean. I would’ve eaten those soggy nachos.” He stabbed one of Jesse’s fries with his fork. “How are your parents doing? I haven’t seen them in a couple of weeks.”

Jesse paused in the act of shoving fries into his sandwich. “What are you?—”

“You still do that?” Parker interrupted with a grimace.

“What?” Jesse blinked at his meal. “It’s the British way.”

“And when did you turn British?”

“You’re one to mock my food choices. Your favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla .”

“Uh, yeah . Because it’s delicious.”

“Tastes like nothing.” Jesse licked mayo off his thumb, his tongue flicking out and sending Parker’s hormones a little haywire. “You might as well be eating air.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense.”

And just like that, Parker had his best friend back. It was as easy as it had always been between them. Like no time at all had passed since they’d last seen each other. Parker had often wondered what their reunion would be like and if it would be awkward and tense.

But it was like being sixteen again and sitting across from each other in the high school cafeteria. But instead of shooting the shit while eating greasy cafeteria pizza, they were shooting the shit while eating greasy pub food.

Full of the warm fuzzies, Parker nudged Jesse’s foot. “So? Your parents?”

Jesse finished chewing before he answered. “They’re fine. I didn’t realize you still talked to them.”

“They came around a lot when Dad was sick. Sometimes they brought food, but usually they just hung out with Dad, kept him company.”

They’d known they were going to lose a friend, so they’d dropped by several times a week to get the most out of their time with him.

“I really am sorry about your dad, Parks.” Leaning his elbows on the table, Jesse reached over and brushed the backs of his fingers against Parker’s. “I didn’t know. I would’ve come out for the funeral if I had.”

“We didn’t have one,” Parker said, stealing another fry off Jesse’s plate.

Instead of grumbling that Parker should’ve gotten himself a side of fries, he turned his plate around so the fries faced Parker.

Parker bit back a smile despite the topic.

“He wasn’t religious, so he didn’t want a church service.

We had a celebration of life instead. We couldn’t bury him, though, because the ground was frozen.

That’s scheduled for a couple of weeks from now. ”

“Let me know when so I can come.”

The offer from the man who’d fled soon after his brother had died—and who, from what Parker had learned from Jesse’s parents, had never visited Mikey’s grave—meant more than Parker could process in a brightly lit pub surrounded by strangers while he was still reeling from Jesse’s sudden reappearance in his life.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. He had so many goddamn questions he wanted to ask, starting with why Jesse hadn’t gotten in touch after he’d left, and ending with whether he had any tips for moving on from the death of your closest family member.

Parker suspected he knew the answer to both of those questions, though. So he dumped rice into his butter chicken and sent Jesse a quick grin. “Changing the subject to something a little lighter... want to talk about how your team missed the playoffs again this season?”

Jesse’s glower would’ve been scary if he weren’t also laughing. “Asshole.”

Parker stabbed another fry off his plate and laughed along with him, the rip in his soul that had widened over the last few months finally earning its first stitch.