She would not be a useful pawn, not at all.
Maxx is browsing his phone while he eats, and my stomach drops when he pushes it across the table toward us.
Milk Carton Isn’t Available to the Public Just Yet—and it’s Already Saving Lives
The news article turns my blood to ice as I drag the phone forward, scanning the rest of it to see how much of Parrish’s story has already gotten out.
“Somebody leaked something—intentionally, of course,” Maxx says, before I even finish reading the article. He’s right, that’s for damn sure.
The boy sat shivering in the back of an ambulance, alive and relatively unharmed—but only because his face, analyzed and placed into Milk Carton’s advanced facial recognition database was scanned in through various videos posted to a popular social media app known as TikTok.
I sigh and give the phone to Chasm. He reads the article over and shakes his head, passing it back to Maxx.
“What a clusterfuck,” he snorts, shoving hair back from his forehead and then frowning at his hand when some of the black spray dye gets on his fingers. He wrinkles his nose and wipes his hand on his very expensive slacks like they’re blue jeans or something. “Some publicity stunt. Kidnap a kid and then save him all in one go.” He lowers his voice to the barest murmur and then attacks his food with the single-minded intent of someone who knows they have to do something, but really doesn’t want to.
“I wonder what Parrish’s story is,” I muse, finishing the last bite of crepe and pushing the plate aside. I don’t have to keep my voice down this time; it’s a genuine question. What is he telling those FBI women? What story will he give them, and why? He doesn’t necessarily care about Maxine; he could just tell them the truth right now.
But he won’t.
Because that would hurt me, and he knows it.
Tess sends us an update shortly after, letting us know that they’ll be headed home soon, and my stomach twists into impossible knots.
Together, the three of us tackle the kid duties, putting Amelia and Henry to bed after they drift off on the sofa, setting Ben up in his room with a book, and … well, there’s not much we can do with Kimber.
“I’m waiting here until he gets home,” she declares from her place on the couch, even though nobody asked or tried to get her to do anything otherwise.
I wait near the front door like a crazy person, the way Tess probably waits for me every time I go with Justin, pacing a rut in the marble floor.
The boys are right there with me, leaning against the wall and waiting just as impatiently as I am.
When the front door does finally open, and I see him step through with bandages on his chest, and a fresh pair of sweats hanging low on his hips, I get a little dizzy.
“Hi,” I say as he pauses in front of me, just as arrogant and pretty as he ever was. No, no, more so than he ever was. I feel like I need another good idiom here: absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes it ache, makes it bleed, makes it long and burn and rage.
“Gamer Girl,” he murmurs, just as Tess and Paul sweep in behind him. Tess closes and locks the door, hitting a few buttons on the alarm, and then turns back toward us. I’m a bit disturbed at how easily Chasm disabled the alarm on the other house, but then again, he is the son of the company’s CEO. It makes a certain sort of sense.
“You’re home,” Tess whispers, touching the side of Parrish’s face. He allows it, but I can see that she’s been doing this continually since we separated at the ambulance. It’s going to be bad for a while; she likely won’t let him out of her sight to take a piss. “We got you home.”
“We got him home,” Chasm murmurs, and I elbow him in the side. Parrish notices, and his lush mouth twitches with the faintest whisper of a smile. He lets his gaze drift up toward the high ceiling and then glances over as Kimber comes padding out of the living room to stare at him.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she says, and Parrish exhales.
“I’m glad I’m back, too,” he admits, and the sound of his voice, it just carves out little spaces inside of me, nests there, becomes a part of who I am. It’s like what Maxx told me before, how I carved out a space inside his chest. Same deal here.
“What happened to you anyway?” Kimber asks, and Parrish’s eyes narrow.
“Kimber Celeste!” Tess snaps as Paul puts a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“We don’t have to talk about any of that right now,” he says softly, and Parrish nods. “You deserve to have the opportunity to rest before being grilled.” Paul frowns and adjusts his own glasses, like an older version of Ben. “Not that Agent Takahashi seems to care about that.”
