7
PARKER
Was it embarrassing that I still had his number saved? Probably. Yet, when I’d nodded, he didn’t seem surprised—and I had to believe it was because he still had mine, too.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes to staying at his house. I should’ve grabbed my luggage and driven to some other town. Finding a place to rent would be difficult with my low budget, but it wasn’t impossible. It was probably easier than facing these feelings slamming into us like a freight train with no control of its brakes. Nearly ten years clearly wasn’t enough for us to move on—did either of us even want that? The only reason we’d parted ways was because our goals were leading us on different paths. Perhaps fate meant for us to find each other again, if only to see whether now that we’d gotten our fix out of the way—we might discover we never truly wanted this to end.
Whateverthiswas. I didn’t even know if he had agirlfriend, and I… I was a complicated case. Pregnant. Single. No place to call home. No job.
The list could go on and on.
Once I found out I was pregnant, I decided making money off social media wasn’t enough. Sure, it paid whatever bills I had at the time, but it wasn’t always stable. I could make thousands of dollars one month, and the next only a few hundred. It fluctuated too much, and I didn’t want to put a child through that instability.
I’d stopped posting two months into my pregnancy. I could’ve kept it going as a side gig, but I had no new videos or photos of me riding my horse and exploring new ranches, and once the content I had prepped ran out, people were bound to get mad I wasn’t making more. That was the hard part about putting your life online—once you started withholding things for privacy or other reasons, people felt entitled to know why. It almost made them hungry for more.
But I didn’t want my baby online, and I didn’t want all those strangers knowing I was pregnant, either. Being a social media influencer, people gave their opinions on everything, from the clothes I wore to the length I cut my hair. It got to the point where I couldn’t even have a sunburn without everyone hounding me with information on what I should do and what I was doing wrong.
I could only imagine how they’d react if they found out I was pregnant, and that I wasn’t with the father. They’d stalk me until they found him while simultaneously giving me advice oneverything. I’d had my privacystripped from me for far too long, and the last thing I wanted was to put a newborn through that.
All of those haunting thoughts flitted through my head as I stared up at the rusty metal sign for North State Auto. The thought of working here hadn’t crossed my mind until Beckham mentioned the place, but Wyatt had always been nice to me growing up, so I figured it was worth a shot. He’d watched my back, same as the Bronson brothers, and for a while, he was part of the family, too.
I could only hope he still held that sentiment. I walked through the door, the bell dinging with my entrance, and hoped he wouldn’t mind offering me a job. Even if it meant filing paperwork all day, I’d take it.
The door swung shut behind me as I took in the small space. I scanned the four gray chairs leading to the oak desk, and the man sitting behind it. Two computer monitors took up a majority of the tabletop, and a very thirsty plant was nearly falling off the chipped corner.
Wyatt spun around in his chair with a corded phone pressed to his ear. He held up a single finger to gesture for me to wait, then he froze, eyes bulging as he realized who was standing in the lobby of his shop.
“I gotta go,” Wyatt said into the phone, not giving the person on the other end of the line the chance to object. He set the phone in the base and shook his head, disbelief coating his features.
“Parker Summerhill.”
I smiled. “Wyatt Walters.”
He stood, rounding the desk to pull me in for a tighthug. I returned it, forcing myself to ignore the emotion building in my throat. He smelled like oil and grease with a hint of citrus hidden somewhere under all that.
“Where have you been?” he asked as he let me go. He took a small step backward, studying me like he couldn’t believe I was standing here. I couldn’t, either.
I shrugged. “Around.”
“If that ain’t the vaguest answer.” He flashed his teeth with a grin before his gaze focused on my belly. “I didn’t know you and Beck were?—”
“No.” I waved my hands awkwardly. “We aren’t?—”
He quirked a brow. “Really?”
I shook my head, at a loss for words. He really thought I was pregnant with Beckham’s child? It was as if, to this day, the thought of me being with someone else wasn’t an option for anyone. For the longest time, it wasn’t. Until Daniel. But even then, we’d barely been sleeping together for a month before I cut things off. A couple weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.
“I’m looking for a job,” I blurted, needing to change the subject. Explaining much of anything was futile right now. If I knew anything about the Wyatt I grew up with, it was that he’d want details on where I’d been and who I’d been with. If he assumed the baby was Beckham’s, he’d ask when I was in Bell Buckle for that to have happened. And, well, right now, it almost felt easier for him to assume that than to ask where the baby daddy really was, and when he could slam his fist into his nose.
Beckham and Wyatt were similar in that they were both good at fighting out theirproblems.
I craned my neck, peering through the small window to the shop. “Is Beckham here?”
Wyatt shook his head, leaning his ass against the lip of the desk. “He told me he couldn’t come by today. Said he had something to do. Which is fine, really. He’s balancing a lot right now, so most days, he’s just been stopping by to help when he can. That’s what he’s doin’ at the ranch, too. He’s just kind of…” Wyatt’s gaze fell to his boots.
“Kind of what?” I pushed.
He grabbed a rag off the desk, fiddling with it. “Trying to figure shit out. He’s been weird the past couple of months.” He nodded at my belly. “Guess that might be why.”
