Page 18

WAVERLY

P arker and Hope watched Keene hurry down the street before they both turned back to the tree I was hiding behind.

As soon as I stepped out from the shadows, Parker lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, we have questions.”

Next to him, Hope nodded. “Yeah. I mean, what—how— why ?” she started, gaping at me with her mouth falling open.

Parker patted her arm. “Maybe add a few more subjects and predicates in there, darlin’, less interrogatives, and she might actually understand you enough to reply.”

She glowered and smacked him in the gut with the back of her hand. “Shut up.” She turned to me and exploded, “What the fuck, Waverly?” A second later, she glanced up at Parker and taunted, “Better?”

He grinned and sent her an okay sign. “Perfect.”

And together, they turned back to me.

I cleared my throat discreetly. “I…don’t really want to talk about it.”

With a scoff, Parker shook his head. “Not sure if you’re aware,” he told me. “But Dugger’s not exactly a private person. If he was involved, we’re all going to hear about it, anyway. In detail.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, swaying as all the blood vacated my head.

Keene was going to tell everyone. And Parker and Hope would know it was me .

What the hell had I done?

“Hey, hey.” Speaking softly, Hope took hold of my arm in support. “Are you okay? Damn. Did he hurt you?”

“Keene? Hurt a girl?” Parker barked out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

Hope shot him a scowl before turning back to me. “I swear, if he laid a finger on you, Waverly, I’ll?—”

I sobbed out a strangled sound that was part laugh, part hopeless weeping, and I pressed my hand to my stomach.

Hope glanced questioningly at Parker, and he shook his head, not able to interpret what my reaction meant either.

Finally, he stepped uneasily toward me, wincing. “Jesus, did he hurt you?”

Starting to breathe hard as panic edged in, I curled my fingers into a fist and kept it against my gut as I shook my head. “No,” I told them, unable to look at either of their faces. “No, he didn’t hurt me. But I—I hurt him.”

“You…what?” Hope blinked, clearly confused.

But Parker was on top of the situation. “Is that why he was limping?” he asked, squinting as if trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. “Because you?—”

“Kicked him,” I confessed with a cringe and a nod. “Between the legs.”

“Fuck.” He lurched forward to grip my arm as if he thought I was about to fall. “What the hell did he do to prompt that ?”

As part of Keene’s inner circle and one of his best friends, Parker would defend Keene to the death. But he’d also kick his ass if he learned his buddy had done something harmful to an innocent.

So I shook my head to protect him. “No. He didn’t do anything wrong. I—it was me. I—he—it was dark. He didn’t know it was me.”

“Ah shit,” he muttered. “He got fresh with you, thinking you were someone else, so you had to kick him away.”

I winced. “Not…really.”

Parked blinked. “Then what , really?”

“I—yes, he thought I was someone else,” I confessed. “But I—I let him keep thinking it.” Another keening sound of panic escaped my lips as I wrapped my arms around my middle and bent slightly, feeling sick. “I don’t—I don’t know why I did that. Why did I do that?”

Except, of course, I knew why. Because I’d dreamed of being with Keene Dugger. I’d wanted to know if I even could be with someone.

Night air stole up my skirt, reminding me I was still missing my underwear, reminding me of everything I’d done because of my stupid, awful, idiotic dreams. A hyperventilating sob exploded from my lungs, and my head went light.

Parker and Hope merely gaped at me, not sure what to say.

Very quietly and very slowly, Hope asked, “You let him do what exactly?”

I looked at her, still in shock over what had just happened, and I experienced a sudden, horrifying gush of word vomit.

“I just wanted to know if I even could ,” I said. “Because I was sure I’d never be able to. Not after—well…not after….” I glanced warily at Parker.

And I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. His gaze flared with realization before he gave a slight nod of understanding.

I started to wring my hands and rock slightly, needing to confess my sins.

Too many years of stupid therapy sessions had conditioned me to admit the worst things about myself.

“Keene was right there, and he—so I just—and then we—” Swallowing noisily, I gulped for air before admitting, “I found out that I guess I could, after all.”

Parker’s lips parted and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. But he remained calm enough that it didn’t scare me into thinking I’d done something beyond redemption.

In fact, he sent me a proud nod. “Well, that’s good, though. Right? Learning you could? Now you know you’re not broken after all.”

“Wait.” Hope lifted her hands and shook them to interrupt us. She sent her boyfriend a dismayed glance. “Are you saying you actually understood what she just said?”

Parker never took his eyes off me as he smiled softly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I did.” He inclined his head my way as he added, “Congratulations,” only to furrow his brow. “Except, I don’t see how kicking him in the nuts came into play.”

“Oh.” My shoulders collapsed. “The girl he was supposed to be meeting showed up, and he realized I wasn’t her. When he tried to find out who I was, I—I couldn’t let him. Letting him find out it was me was more than I could take. So I tried to run. And he tried to stop me. Then I just…”

I tipped my head with a wince, hoping I didn’t have to explain more.

Thankfully, Parker seemed to catch the gist of it. After a brief wince, he huffed in amusement and nodded. “Well, okay then.”

But Hope lifted both hands. “Wait.” She glanced between me and Parker. “So you and Keene…” Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. You and Keene ?”

With a sickened wince, I hugged myself and sank a step backward.

“Just how far did you go ?” she demanded, aghast and unable to keep her mouth shut. Seriously, every time she pressed her lips back together, her jaw would just sag loose again.

“I don’t think that’s really any of our business, Trouble,” Parker answered.

With a snort, Hope shook her head. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want all the details. But damn…” Still blinking at me, she uttered, “You and Keene.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned, feeling slightly sick again. “Could you please stop saying that?”

“Sorry, I just—” She shook her head and straightened, repeating, “Right. Sorry.”

“And could you not tell him?” I asked, glancing between the two of them. “That it was me?”

Hope and Parker exchanged a glance, and I nearly whimpered in defeat. Damn, they were going to tell him everything.

Finally, Parker turned back to me. “ We won’t,” he assured, only to lift his eyebrows. “But I think you should. He has a right to know who he was with.”

I winced and swallowed guiltily.

Only for Parker to add, “But we won’t tell him.”

With a relieved nod, I dropped my gaze and mumbled, “Thank you.”

He sighed heavily and glanced down the street in the direction of Archer House. “Want us to walk you back to the party?”

I immediately shied from that idea, shaking my head madly. “No. I—I can’t go back there. Not tonight.” Probably not ever again.

“Okay,” he said calmly. “So we’ll get you to your car, then.”

But that only made me deflate. “I, uh, I walked here.” Then, I remembered, “And I forgot my phone at home, so I can’t order a ride back.”

Gah. I must’ve left my brain at home as well. I don’t think I’d done any thinking at all since I’d left my house this evening.

With a self-defeated groan, I shook my head, trying to calculate how many blocks—miles—I was going to have to walk through the dark, alone, to get home.

But Parker said, “We’ll drive you. We were heading out, anyway.”

* * *

He didn’t ask for my address. He knew where I lived.

I remembered the first time Parker showed up at my front door, asking questions. He’d only been eighteen years old, freshly graduated from high school, but he’d seemed so much older and in control of himself.

At the time, I had thought that day had been the worst day of my life.

After he had explained to me and my family the reason for his visit and then bluntly asked if Gerald Sprout had done to me what he’d done to others, I’d never felt so small and exposed, so ruined and awful and embarrassed, not in my entire life.

My parents finally knew. They knew what I’d done. What I’d let Sprout do. I had never wanted to die as much as I had that day. I’d wanted it all to go away and disappear. I’d wanted it to end.

Within the month, I’d swallowed a bottle full of pills, and a new life had sprouted from those ashes.

Mom and Dad had put me into therapy, and over time, I’d come to realize Parker showing up at my house, asking if I’d been molested too, had actually freed me, and with the truth out, I could finally work past it.

He’d saved me.

He was still saving me, it seemed.

Shaken over what I’d just done with Keene, I sat in the back seat of Parker’s fancy car and stared up at the stars through his panoramic skylight. In the front, he and Hope were quiet, occasionally glancing at each other in silent communication that only a couple could speak.

What must they think of me now? My stomach tightened with dread, worrying about all the different types of fallout that could arise from this.

I wrung my hands in my lap as we turned down my street, only for Parker to mutter, “What the fuck?” and brake slightly.

Shifting to peer around Hope’s shoulder and out the front windshield, I caught sight of red and blue flashing lights.

“Wait. Are the police at my house?”

“They appear to be,” Parker said in a tight voice.

“Oh God,” I moaned, feeling sick to my stomach. “Do you think he found out and called them?”

Parker huffed out a laugh. “I doubt it,” he said as he pulled to the curb behind one of the two patrol vehicles. “I’m sure the two aren’t even related. So why don’t you sit tight? I’ll go see what?—”