Page 27 of Haunted

He laughs, and I feel relief. We’re on track. This is it. Things are going to work out between us after all. I take his hand and kiss his knuckles, because I can’t contain my joy.

“Wow. That’s—wait, when are you due back?”

“Monday at 0600. I’m flying out tomorrow.”

“Do they give you free flights?”

“No, I flew commercial. I really wanted to see you.”

“And if you had missed me again?”

“I’d wait for the next ninety-six hours of liberty and take another red-eye.”

His smile is warm. “Careful. You make me feel important.”

My face heats. “You are. I missed you so much during boot. I just kept thinking how I wanted to tell you how I was, and what was happening. Just to hear your voice. How was your summer? Please tell me you missed me a little.”

A shadow crosses his face. He looks away, like he’s looking for a way to say something he doesn’t want to talk about. “I did. I was glad that you had your own life, though.” He wrinkles his brow and picks at his wristband. “It was…lonely. My aunt and I had planned to fly out to Spain in June but…something came up and we had to cancel the trip at the last minute.” He rubs his wrist one last time. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m alright, though. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Is there something you want to talk about with me? You can tell me anything.” I close my other hand over his.

He looks down at my fingers for a long moment. Then he takes a breath. “I’m okay,” he says. “Maybe earlier, over the summer—”

Behind him, the door opens. Liam pokes his head out. “Parks, there’s a line.” He looks at me, and his expression isn’t friendly.

Parker straightens and reties his apron strings. “I’m right there.” He looks back at me. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to work.”

“Can I call you?” I ask.

He blinks, like the question came from further away than I’m standing. “Are you still on the same number?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll call you soon.” He’s already moving. “I’m sorry, I really do have to get back. It was good to see you, Lance.”

Liam holds the door open for him before letting it close. “Two minutes,” he tells me, and gives me one last look before the door closes.

I stand in the courtyard by myself with the string lights buzzing over my head. Through the wall I can hear the espresso machine and his voice calling out drink orders, easy, comfortable, in a life I know nothing about.

Parks. That’s what Liam called him. Nobody has ever shortened his name in front of me. Jealousy goes through me so hard I have to take a few breaths to get over it. I want to stare him down and ask him what he thinks he’s doing

But the truth is that I’m leaving Parker behind, and he’s not.

I let myself out through the front. The October air has gone cold and the light is going, and I get about half a block before I stop and stand on the sidewalk in my service dress like an idiot.

What exactly are your intentions? Martha Gillibrand asked me that a year ago and I still don’t have an answer.

He said he’d call soon.

I have no idea whether he means it.

Chapter ten

Parker Jonathan Bishop

After Lance leaves I make drinks on autopilot. Syrup in the cup, pull the shots, steam the milk, pour. My hands know what to do. My brain is still out in the courtyard with the string lights, where Lance Broussard kissed me and the world tipped sideways.

I can still taste him. That’s the problem.