Kismet (19 page)

“Are you kiss-drawing on me?” I ask.

“Mmhmm,” he moans as he finishes back on my belly button. He stands back up and looks deep into my eyes. “What did you draw?” I question as I run my hand up under his shirt along his bare back.

“A heart.”

Tears sting my eyes again, but I refuse to let the sadness of my past to ruin tonight.

“You were beautiful back then, kiddo, but you’re even more beautiful now. There’s nothing hotter than seeing the girl you love become a woman.”

I can’t tell if he’s done talking, and to be honest I really don’t care. I kiss him again and in an instant, his hands are on me, tantalizing every inch of my skin. Igniting the fire deep inside of me that I thought had long burned out. Every pinch, every caress, brings me to life.

The button on my shorts pops open and he glides his hand across my stomach one more time before dipping in. He rubs his hand on the outside of my underwear, testing the waters I’m sure, the dampness urging him on. Pushing my panties to the side, he tentatively dips one finger in and I practically melt into a puddle. It’s been a long time since someone touched me.

Michael.

Michael had been the last person to touch me.

He would never touch me again.

And all at once, the feelings are back. I’m being selfish. Smiling, talking, laughing, that’s one thing… but this, fooling around like a couple of horny teenagers? This is flat out wrong.

Unaware of my thoughts, Parker slides another finger in and I betray myself with a moan.

“Stop,” I choke out between frantic breaths.

But Parker doesn’t hear me and he continues to slide in and out. Even though I’ve changed my mind I can feel myself building, growing closer to the edge with each stroke, and I’m frantic for him to stop. I don’t deserve him doing this. I don’t deserve to be touched. Or to have a release.

I push him away. He stumbles backwards, a look of pure shock on his face. He quickly uses his hand to adjust himself, and I can’t help but stare.

“What’s wrong?” he asks nervously. “I… I’m sorry, Katie, I thought you—”

“I thought so too, but I was wrong. This is wrong. I can’t, Parker.” I turn around and start walking back to the house, tears streaming down my face. I am broken. Irreparably damaged. I’d been a fool to think that I was ready to feel like this.

There are footsteps behind me, and my body jerks as my arm is grabbed and I spin around. Parker envelopes me with his arms, which does nothing for my crying. In fact, it increases it tenfold. There’s just something about having someone care about you when you’re in a bad place, and upset, that causes an eruption of feelings.

And that how we stand, him rubbing my hair and soothing me while I sob into his shirt.

“It’s all right, kiddo. We don’t have to go there. I don’t need that from you.” He places his hands on my shoulder and pushes me back so that he can look into my eyes. “All I need is this.” And he places his left hand over my heart.

My heart swells, but deep down the pain is still there. A reminder of everything that went wrong before. But I refuse to make the same mistakes again. I can do this. Slowly. I owe it to them, all of them, to at least give it a try.

And to be honest, I really want to.

Because I think Parker McKenzie is my lifeline.

Sitting—no, correction—
snuggling
on the couch with Parker is my new favorite pastime. Every morning, after he finishes helping around on the farm, he hangs around for a few extra minutes and I find myself looking forward to the contact that I once avoided.

There were obviously going to be questions from my family, but Parker must have filled them in on a lot of things because nobody questioned it or seemed to think it was strange, and for that I was thankful. I couldn’t handle any more drama, for now at least. There was something about being with him that just made things feel a little simpler, even if for just a bit. Because when he wasn’t there, my conscious always ended up getting the better of me, telling me that I was being selfish, or stupid.

“I’ve gotta go to the shop, Katie,” he murmurs into my hair.

Not wanting him to leave, I wrap my arms tighter around his waist. “Don’t,” I plead, burying my face into his side.

“I have to. For one, this show is so stupid. I don’t know how you can watch something so mindless and dumb.” He pauses and gestures at the T.V. My guilty pleasure—
reality television
. “Plus I have three cars scheduled today, and if you want me here for dinner I needed to leave like”—he checks his watch—“
fifteen
minutes ago.”

Without really thinking I ask, “Can I just lay in your nook for a minute?” The instant the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. The nook had been sacred, and it felt wrong to be talking about it with Parker.

He looks down at me. “My nook?”

I pause, trying to think of a way to take back my words but I know it’s too late. Besides, I imagine lying in Parker’s nook to be like my very own slice of heaven. “Yeah. You know, the spot on your chest right next to your arm. The place that makes every girl feel safe, like it’s the only place in the world they belong.”

Parker cocks his eyebrow. “The nook, huh?”

“Yeah,” I plead with my eyes.

With a sigh he lies back, his arm straight out at his side. I take a deep breath, knowing that I’m about to cross a line. The nook had been my thing with Michael but right now, before Parker left for the day, I needed to feel home, and despite my conscious trying to fill me with doubt, I was ready to feel that with him.

Placing my head on his chest, I hear his heart beating. As I lose myself in the sound of him and his breathing, a tear falls from the corner of my eye knowing that this is a moment I will never have with Michael again. I breathe in the scent of Parker and force a smile up at him. He uses his thumb to wipe away my tears.

“I really do have to go,” he whispers. I let go of him, sitting up immediately and sticking my bottom lip out. In a move reminiscent of my fifteen-year-old self, I cross my arms in front of me and give my best pout. He laughs before bending down and kissing me. “You’re adorable. I’ll see you tonight.”

I watch him leave, and it makes me feel a little better. Parker is fun to watch, period, but seeing his backside. Yeah.

Selfish Katie.

I direct my attention back to the nonsense on the TV. I mean, really, why are these people famous? It always just made me feel better about my own life hearing about the drama of these so-called “perfect” people. I don’t really care what they do—it’s just something to keep my mind off things.

My mom walks in and smiles at me before sitting down on the couch. “I love you, Katie,” she chokes out.

I feel guilty. Mom and I have always been close, and I left her to grieve by herself, without me. She loved them all too. My heart aches for all the tears that she cried because I couldn’t deal with it.

Selfish Katie.

“I know you do, Mom.”

“I’m just so glad to see you
living
again.”

I sigh. I’m not sure if I’m really living yet because I’m still in that awkward stage where I’m trying to gather all the pieces. I’m going to need glue soon, but I don’t know where, or how, to find it. But for now, everyone’s just glad to have some sort of semblance of Katie back. And it does feel nice, especially on mornings where Parker stays to sit with me for a while.

“It’s nice to have you back,” Mom says, reaching across the space between us and placing my hand in hers.

I smile.

We sit in silence for a few moments before she gets back up and sighs. “Well, back to sitting down and going over bills with your father.”

“It always was your least favorite thing to do,” I tease.

“Indeed,” her eyes fall to the ground. “But now it’s so much worse.”

I wonder what I’ve missed but I fight the urge to press the topic any further and Mom starts making her way back towards the kitchen.

It’s been a few weeks since Parker and I almost sex by the creek. We haven’t talked about it again. Parker won’t push me, I know that much, but we have kissed… a lot. And every time we kiss, I feel like I find another piece of myself. I know without a doubt that Parker is the key to putting me back together. I just wonder how we’ll get there.

“Honey, can I ask you something?” Mom asks tentatively as she stops next to the doorway.

“Sure, Mom.”

“You and Parker… you have history?”

Obviously Parker hadn’t talked about the past with my family. Unsure of how she might react to her fifteen-year-old daughter having kissed a twenty-year-old man, but I’d told myself I would never lie again. “Yeah, Mom, we do.”

She nods. “I figured as much. He loves you, Katie.”

I think back to all of my big moments that Parker was there for. Despite all the things he and I have been through, he is still here. “I’m starting to believe that.”

“Michael wanted you to find someone to make you smile again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

I look at her confused. “How?”

For a second she won’t meet my gaze, but then she takes a deep breath before looking at me and saying, “Because Michael left letters. They were in his safety deposit box with all his life insurance information and his will. His mother dropped them off shortly after the funeral. There was one for everyone. Your father and I. Tommy. You.”

I scoff. Of course Michael had written letters. Always so responsible, he thought of everything. It had been part of his allure. He was the polar opposite of Parker. He didn’t remind me of the love I had lost. He was him, I was me, and that’s all that mattered. He vowed to take care of me, and he did, even if only for a short while.

“I’ve already read mine, but I’ve been holding onto yours until I thought you were ready. So are you, Katie? Are you ready?”

I consider saying no, but then I remember Stevenson is coming later, and Parker will be back for dinner. It’s the perfect opportunity to read the letters, knowing I’ll have comfort if I need it.

I nod and Mom pats me on the leg before she disappears, only to return with three envelopes in her hand. She sits back down cautiously next to me and again, I feel bad. It always seems like she’s walking on eggshells with me. I just want things to be normal, somehow.

“So, these are yours,” she says, passing them over.

“Three of them?” I ask.

“Mmhmm. You can see yourself who they’re meant for.”

I look down and see his familiar chicken scratch. Each envelope has something different written on it.

“My dear Katie.”

“Zoe.”

The inscription makes my heart ache. He had probably never dreamed that precious Zoe would be taken too soon and that I would be left alone. A tear slides down my cheek before I look at the final envelope.

“The man that holds her heart.”

I gasp.

My mom leans over and throws her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re so strong. Everyone loves you. We’re here.”

I cry into her chest, while she strokes my hair. My heart is breaking knowing that Michael had known I wasn’t totally his. I had never spoken a word to him about my past with Parker—he had obviously just felt it. “I was so selfish, Mom. He deserved more than a wife like me. Life’s so unfair.” I manage to choke out.

With a touch that only a mother can bestow, she gently places her hands on each of my cheeks and forces me to look at her. “I know, sweet baby, but in life you have to trust that things happen for a reason. There is nothing more heart-wrenching than losing people you love, but you have to have faith.”

“I’m not religious, Mom.”

“Neither am I. But I have faith that there is a reason for all your heartache. Take Parker for example. Having you back has probably saved
him
.”

“Saved him?” I ask.

“Sweetie, you’ve been gone a long time. Parker was always a bit of a wild child, but you didn’t see how self-destructive he’s been the last few years. Booze. Women. Dangerous stunts. But the minute he heard about you, he started working on cleaning himself up. The day we brought you home, that wasn’t Tommy’s idea, it was Parker’s. He insisted. Heck, he even forced your Dad to give him some jobs around here.”

“Wow,” is all I manage to choke out.

“And then there’s Onyx. We were having to think about selling her because she wouldn’t let the men around her, and I don’t know the first thing about horses. Then you showed up, and she responded. I mean, who knows what else will come from this terrible tragedy, but you always have to have faith.” Mom breaks away from me, standing up to leave.

“Kismet,” I say absently.

“Kiz-what?”

“Kismet. Fate.” I hate to think that fate killed my family, but for some peculiar reason it makes sense. Yes, I need saving, but in the process I’m saving Parker. And the fact of the matter is, that when I think of a world without Parker McKenzie in it, it’s too much to handle.

“Maybe,” she sighs. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. I’m in the kitchen if you need me.” I finger the envelopes as Mom leaves the room.

Am I really ready for this?