PARKER
Ithought having both of my parents buried six feet under would hurt more than it did. But instead, staring at the popcorn ceiling of my motel room, lying on my back atop the scratchy comforter for a blissful minute before I had to remind myself to shift, I felt nothing but numb.
If I was being honest with myself, not much in my life would change with them gone. My mom had been dead for ten years, and the only shocking thing about my father’s death was that I’d figured it would have happened sooner. He never took care of himself, much like how he treated his family. Three years ago, I was almost convinced he’d already passed and I simply wasn’t told. Bouncing around the United States from ranch to ranch left me no time to come back to Bell Buckle. Not that I really wanted to, anyway. I’d stayed away so long, I’d convinced myself I had no ties back here. Besides…
Beckham Bronson.
Merely seeing him today stirred up a whole plethora of things I didn’t want to be thinking about right now. I had to figure out my next destination, find yet another doctor, remember to take my prenatal vitamins and drink more water and eat healthy and not eat cold sandwiches or sushi or ride a horse.
That last one hurt the most.
But fuck, I had so many things to learn and remember. I didn’t have time for distractions. I was doing this on my own, which meant I had to store every little crumb of information in my hormone-crazed brain.
The only thing about today that really tugged at my heartstrings while I stared down at that coffin was the fact that my baby wouldn’t have grandparents. Even if my parents hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have wanted them in my child’s life. But on Daniel’s side? My child could’ve had a chance at relatives. But he’d wanted nothing to do with this baby from the moment I told him, so I did what I do best.
I ran.
I just didn’t think it’d land me back in my hometown in Idaho.
I glanced at the red digital clock on the nightstand beside the bed, heaving a sigh that my time of resting on my back was over.
My belly wasn’t even necessarily big yet, being that I was only four and a half months pregnant, but fuck, my lower back constantly ached. I was dreading the last half of this pregnancy solely for that reason.
I rolled onto my side before shoving to an upright position, but when I got halfway up, a knock sounded on the door. I froze, homing in on that sound like I might’ve imagined it. It had to have been twenty seconds before a fist rapped against the door again.
I’d paid for the room, and housekeeping wasn’t supposed to be in until tomorrow morning, so my only guess was either the motel manager was kicking me out for a declined card, or someone had the wrong door.
I pushed to a stand and padded in bare feet across the uncomfortably itchy carpet before stopping in front of the door and peeking through the little hole. I wasn’t exactly short, so thankfully I didn’t have to arch my sore feet too much to look out the dirty glass.
The man who stood there with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets made my heart rate spike, which probably wasn’t good. Or maybe it didn’t matter. God, I needed to stop overthinking everything. My baby was fine.
With one hand wrapped around the cold metal doorknob, I unlocked the dead bolt with the other. As I opened the door, Beckham lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting mine from under the brim of his cowboy hat.
Before I could even get a word out, he was talking. “A motel, Parker?”
My forehead creased, my mouth opening and closing twice before I could speak. “Yeah? I told you that at the—How did you find me?”
He flapped his jacket open as some kind of half-assed shrug. “Ifollowed you.”
My brows shot up to my hairline. “Youwhat?” I shook my head. “You left before me.”
“I didn’t leave. I sat in my truck. I saw you leave before anyone else had cleared out.”
My lips rolled together as I turned my gaze to the gray sky above him. I needed all the patience I could muster right now.
“Why aren’t you wearing socks?”
My eyes darted back to him. “Because I don’t want to? Why are you standing out front of my motel room?”
“The heater doesn’t work.” He said it like that was answer enough.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment as I processed what in the world that could even mean. “The owner said it’ll be fixed in a few days, and I’m not?—”
“Days?”
My eyes opened to find him looking at me likeIwas the crazy one here. “Yes. Days. I have heat packs, and a heated blanket, so I’ll be fine.”
Beckham didn’t look like he believed that for a second. He stepped forward, pulling his hands from his pockets as he somehow slid past without touching me, and took in the small space. I turned to watch as he surveyed the room like he was looking at a crime scene.
