“When did you get so smart?”
“I’ve always been smart,” she says before a group of girls cautiously approach, waving excitedly. “See you tonight.” She smiles sadly before leaving me alone with the knowledge that the kid sister I rushed to rescue this weekend might be more emotionally intelligent than I am.
Chapter Sixty-One
Savannah
Genetics Are A Bitch
I have every intention of going back to campus on Sunday, mostly so my mom can stop looking at me with concern. She’s about to call in reinforcements, and Clay won’t let me hide under the covers like she does.
But then I get a text from my roommate.
Anna
People are literally hanging outside the dorm as if you brother is about to stop by. I’m staying with a friend and suggest you do the same.
She has never texted me before, so it’s either progress, or the first time I’ve annoyed her enough for her to tell me.
Either way, I hide my phone and Mom distracts me with Hallmark movies and baking.
* * *
By Monday morning, my parents are off to work, and I’m doom scrolling. Which is usually just a waste of brain power and energy, but this time I feel impending doom, because mine is the life that’s unraveling before my eyes.
When the doorbell rings, I answer without even looking up from my phone, fully expecting it to be Clay, but instead, I find, “Parker.”
“I called. And texted,” he shares, stepping in with an eggnog latte for me.
“I banished my phone about a minute after the school paper wrote an article about me,” I explain. “I just got it back.”
“Did you read it?” I shake my head. “It wasn’t half bad. Completely glossed over our relationship though, but I get that it would be too much hotness for one article.”
I give him a half-hearted smile, because I appreciate that he’s trying.
“I saw Kinsey’s name and stopped reading.”
“I was going to as well, but I took it upon myself to keep you safe this week, so I had to know what we were up against.”
“Tell my brothers I’m fine.”
“Dallas’ plan was for you to stay with him for the week, and Clay was either whisking you to a beach somewhere or moving home after murdering Kinsey, so I think you can deal with my stellar company.”
“You see how this just links me to more awesome athletes people will want to use me to get closer to?”
“This isn’t high school, Banana. NFL and MLB stars, yes, but no one is going to cozy up to you to get to me when I’m right here and very accessible.”
“You haven’t dated in years.”
“And you don’t have the power to change that.”
He grabs the treats I stress-baked over the weekend, putting some on a plate and others in a Tupperware for later. My life is a mess, but I smile watching Parker treat our kitchen like his own.
“These were for me, right?” he verifies.
It’s not like I was going to work up the courage to bring them to Noah’s, so I nod. The almond pastries, however, I put back in the fridge, with the address on a Post-it on top. My mom has decided she would rather support the arts than go to her manicure tomorrow morning. Or she stepped in when I baked them all before realizing it wasn’t my place to make the treats for Izzie’s bake sale. Who’s to say?
“I really appreciate you being here, but I was never worried that people would be mean over this.”
