Breaking Out (25 page)

I know.

She frowned and stared at her knees. “But he was committed. I was the one . . .”

Without touching her, Parker eased forward, his gaze searched hers. “If he was so committed, he wouldn't have told you to go, Scout.”

The truth of his words hit her like a hammer to the chest. She was so tired. So emotionally exhausted, simply mangled, yet a part of her rejected his accusing words. Defensively, she snapped, “If he wasn't looking for commitment, why did he ask me to marry him?”

Parker jerked back, his face losing a bit of color. “He actually proposed?”

She couldn't stop the laugh that slipped out. It was a protective blanket to her wounded ego. “Don't look so shocked, Parker.”

“But I am . . . I mean, I'm not shocked someone would want to marry you. You're incredible. I just . . . can't believe he actually tried.”

“Why? Why wouldn't he try?”

“I guess I never honestly believe his feelings were sincere . . .” he admitted quietly.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe they weren't. When I said no, that was it.”

They sat in silence for some time until she quietly admitted, “Maybe I should've said yes.”

Parker sat up and grasped her hands with a desperation she wasn't prepared for. “No, Scout. No. You're young and beautiful and deserve the time to make up your mind. Fuck him. Look at you. You look miserable. That's his fault! He did this to you. That's the real him.”

She shook her head. No, Lucian was not some evil person. He was intense, but also gentle. She couldn't believe that after so much time she didn't know the real him. She knew a side of him the rest of the world didn't see. That was why none of this made any sense. “You don't know him.”

He looked appalled. “Are you defending him?”

Her vision glazed with tears again. “No, I suppose that's stupid. It's just . . . none of this makes any sense. We were happy, I thought.”

He scowled at the floor, and then faced her, all hostility gone. “Well, enough of that. You have a roof over your head, food in the panty, fuel in the furnace, and more than we could have ever dreamed of. You don't need some arrogant billionaire to make you happy. Screw him. Prove that you don't need him, that you can move on just as well.”

That's right. He was in Paris . . . moving on.

She looked around the apartment. It was cozy, but nonetheless luxurious. She wasn't naïve enough to believe the artistically rustic furnishings and distressed, exposed walls diminished the value of a place like this. That was Lucian, trying to find a place that didn't appear too lavish, knowing the more posh it appeared the less comfortable she would be. But he wasn't fooling her.

Those chipped sconces by the door likely sold for a thousand dollars a piece. This place wasn't run-down and then fixed up. It was purposefully aged to give wealthy people an earthy impression of themselves without sacrificing any of their security. How ridiculous, making a classy building appear seedy for the whims of the rich.

She sighed. “This isn't my place. All of these things,” she swept her hand in front of her. “He bought them. None of them are mine.”

“Don't cut off your nose to spite your face, Scout. What you have here is food and shelter. You have clothing. He owes you this and more for what he took from you. You'll be able to sleep safely at night and work a job during the day. This is an advantage you didn't have before. See it as such.”

Work. She told herself every day that she needed to find a job. “I'm just . . . so sad, Parker. I can't find the energy for anything.”

His green eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tight, as though holding in a foul word that soured his mouth. He shifted until his knees were on the floor and his gaze locked with hers. “You listen to me, Scout. You're tougher than any girl I know. I know he hurt you and I wish I could've somehow saved you from that, but what's done is done and now it's time to move on. Fuck him. He's all the way across the world. Do you think he's worried about you?”

Sharp pain knifed through her, and she sucked in a jagged breath.

Parker went on, ignoring her visceral reaction to his cold words. “Our people survive, Scout, and that's what you need to do now. You need to stop moping, assess the damage and survive. If you don't want this place, then leave. Come stay with me. I'll take care of you.”

The last thing she wanted was another man taking care of her. While these things didn't technically belong to her, they were given out of affection, not obligation—
maybe
. Somehow that brought about a sense of entitlement, more so than taking charity from Parker would.

“I can't live with you, Park. I need to be on my own.”

Disappointment briefly flashed across his green eyes, but he shook it away. “Fine, but I'll help you, Scout. I'll help you find a job. I'll help you remember how to smile. I'll help you laugh. And so help me God, I'll help you forget about him.”

A world without Lucian Patras seemed bleak and pointless. However, a part of her wished she could somehow, magically, shut off all her memories of him and act as though he never really existed.

Her heart was growing addicted to sadness and becoming more and more reluctant to let his memory go. But her mind was shoving all thoughts of him away, making her insides a tumultuous and uncomfortable place. It was too painful.

She was losing her mind, suffering some sort of mental break, she was sure. With Pearl as her mother, those types of occurrences wouldn't be too far off the mark. For the first time ever, she was scared for her own well-being.

She
needed
Parker to help her get through this, but she couldn't explain why. It was too much to put into words. He'd think she'd completely lost it if he knew that she, his driven little friend always scrapping to get ahead, found it meaningless to even live in a world that did not include Lucian Patras. No, Parker would never get that.

She swallowed, shut her eyes, and nodded. “Okay, Parker. I'll take your help. God knows I need it. But I can't stay with you. If you want to stay here, you're more than welcome. I'd like the company.”

His eyes searched her face and slowly he grinned. “Okay, Scout. You got a deal.”

Chapter 23

A night without stars

That was what her life had become, a night without stars. Scout could still smile, but it was an empty expression, pained by so many tiny fractures along her heart. Her laughter, for the most part, was hollow. She tried in vain to recall what happiness felt like, but the mere thought triggered a string of memories that seized her breath and put unbearable pressure on her heart.

She didn't want to break. Her mind filled with unholy images of her heart splitting like sheets of ice choking a river, ripping apart until gaping blackness showed through. Not being able to process recollections of the past few months without pain meant her recollections of happiness were, for the most part, gone, blurred, buried beneath the ice that had so thoroughly smothered her heart.

But happiness had once existed in her. She just couldn't imagine it.

Parker decided to spend the night. He was prepared to sleep on the couch, but when she said good-night and headed to the balcony, he froze. “Scout?”

It wasn't like she never slept outside before. She was more comfortable there than under the roof of some apartment that didn't belong to her, surrounded by walls and memories she couldn't bear to face. She shrugged, unable to meet his gaze without feeling embarrassed. “It's suffocating.”

Quickly turning away from his confused face, she padded over the threshold to her lounge chair. She was very tired. All she seemed to do anymore was sleep, which was fine with her. She welcomed the numbness.

Settling under the blanket, she breathed. Her eyes counted the stars in the sky. There weren't many, yet they were innumerable, infinite. If a sky was without stars, would it still be called night? Could there be laughter without glee, smiles without joy? Like a starless night, she was falling into something dark and unremarkable, a smudge that blocked the warmth of the day.

So unmoved by all things lately, she couldn't find the nerve to really care. Sometimes darkness was peaceful. She was the starless night, cold, still, without a single flicker. It was so tempting to drown in the oppressive darkness swathing her mind. The thought was enticing enough to make her sigh and shut her eyes, darkness pulling her under.

A shadow passed over her face, and she cracked open her lashes. Parker was standing over her, frowning.

“Are you really sleeping out here?”

Her shoulder lifted beneath the blanket. “It's safe up here. It's not too cold. Why not?”

He scoffed. “Because you have a home to sleep in.”

She didn't have the energy to defend her crazy behavior at the moment, so she just stared back at him. He sighed and lifted the covers. “Move over then.”

Surprised, but slightly glad for the company, she shifted to the left of the wide lounge chair and Parker scooted in beside her.

As she shifted her hips, searching for a soft spot to settle in to, his soft sweater and familiar scent warmed her senses. Heat collected between them. They'd never rested so close. It was different, yet for some reason welcomed by her body.

Parker's lean form fit against hers. “Thanks for finding me, Park.”

“I could never lose you completely.” His breath was warm over her cheek.

Scout shut her eyes. Images of Lucian played with visions of her past, visions of Parker, of the tracks, of her life as it was before billionaires and broken hearts.

Her mind stumbled as fingers gently tugged the hair peeking from the brim of her wool cap. She blinked into the dark.

This was new. Parker never really touched her before. It was foreign, but at the same time familiar. She should probably scoot away, but something about his touch, the presence of another body close to hers, was selfishly coveted and she couldn't ask him to stop.

She relaxed, letting his gentle touch soothe her in a way no one else had offered her comfort in days.

“It's okay to talk to me about it, Scout,” he whispered.

She didn't open her eyes or acknowledge his statement, but heard it all the same.

“I'll be there for you, through anything. I care about you and don't want you to be sad.”

I know.

She did know, but offering words of validation, proof of a rational train of thought, only made her feel like a traitor. Part of her believed she needed to feel this pain right now, as though it were a rite of passage to teach her that this was why she should not have fallen in love.

Thoughts blended into nothingness, and slowly her consciousness faded and fell away. She became aware of time passing only as the distant sound of vehicles occasionally moved over the streets below. She slept. For the first time in days she truly slept.

Her nose tingled, winter's kiss pressed upon her chilled face. Her back was burning up and a heavy weight rested across her legs like lead.

Lucian? No. Parker.

She opened her eyes and caught the pink haze of dawn tingeing the blue night into shades of crimson over the city. The temperatures had dropped overnight, and vapor formed as each breath passed her lips.

Something was different inside of her, lighter, almost hopeful. Was it because Parker was there?

“You up?”

Scout slowly rotated her head until Parker's green eyes came into view. They were very close, closer than they'd ever been. Small flecks of brown, olive, and gold swam in his emerald irises. She nodded.

Neither of them moved. She wondered if he was cataloguing all the awkward traits of waking up so close to her. His gaze moved over her face. “Your nose is red.”

She sniffled. They should probably go inside where it was warm, but she feared climbing out from the protective blanket.

Suddenly his body stretched, hard planes curving along her softer parts. His head tipped back and he groaned, shaking slightly as his muscles extended. Then he was standing.

The absence of his body's heat was jarring. A chill immediately took his place. She snuggled under the blanket and watched him continue a round of motions meant to awaken his limbs.

“This sleeping outside shit is for the birds, Scout. I think I've done enough involuntary camping in my life to know better. I'll take a roof whenever it's offered.”

“You could have slept on the couch.”

He shrugged. “I came to be with you. You were out here.” His back cracked. The cold definitely had a way of making a person stiff. “I've got to use the bathroom. Do you have anything to eat here?”

She stared up at him. Didn't he know her world was in shambles? Who could think about food at a time like this? Yet, her life didn't seem as much a mess as it had yesterday.

“There's stuff in the pantry and the fridge. Help yourself.”

A few minutes after Parker disappeared into the house, she shifted into a sitting position and slowly stood. Wrapping the blanket over her like a shawl, she headed inside.

He sat at the counter, hunched over a bowl of cereal. He'd put on weight since last fall.

“This milk's about to expire. You better use it up.”

She frowned.

“So,” he said with a mouth full of mushed flakes. “Should we go job hunting for you today?”

“Don't you have to work?”

“I took off until Monday. I figured you probably needed a hand. Sorry it took me this long to find you.”

She still didn't know how he'd managed that. “How did you find me?”

His shoulder lifted with nonchalant grace. “Word gets around.”

He was being cryptic, but before she could ask more, he said, “Do you get a paper? We should look over the want ads.”

“I don't get the paper.” She shot him a telling look. What would an illiterate person want with the paper?

“Don't give me that look. You can read.”

“Parker—”

“Scout,” he said knowingly, mimicking her tone. “I've heard you read. Don't act like you're illiterate when you haven't been for quite some time.”

She scoffed. “Compared to you I am.”

“So? Just because you aren't the best reader doesn't mean you can't. Eat breakfast and we'll go get a paper.”

“I'm not hungry.”

His head tilted and his spoon stilled, a pile of bran-colored flakes dribbling close to the edge. “Scout, don't be a waif. When food is offered to you, you take it. You know better than that. Don't be dramatic.”

He shoveled the spoonful of cereal in his mouth, and she scowled at him, half tempted to tell him to get out, but at the same time terrified he might leave. Her face tight, she marched into the kitchen and retrieved a bowl. She ate beside him in silence, calling him all sorts of insensitive names in her head.

Her stomach rejoiced at the sustenance being offered. She was starving. Her brain just forgot to relay the message.

***

There were several job openings in the area, but only a few Scout felt capable enough to apply to. She and Parker sat on the carpet in the living room, various pages of classifieds strewn around them.

“You should think about getting a license. There are lots of openings for drivers.”

“I don't have a car,” she said.

“They give you a car or a truck.”

“I don't know. That all takes time. I need to make money now. I don't want to stay here longer than I have to.”

Parker's eyes met hers. “Did he give you a time frame of when you had to . . .”

She frowned. He said he'd be back in a month. She didn't want to still be there by then, especially if he didn't come back for her. Her heart would never survive more broken promises. “No. I'd just rather cut all ties.”

His gaze lowered. Turning away from her so she could no longer read his expression, he said, “Yeah, that's probably a good idea. You know, you could be my roommate. I have a place. It isn't much, but . . .”

“Thanks Parker, but I think I want to do this on my own. I know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under me. I don't want to be in that position ever again. You know what I mean?”

“I would never abandon you like he did.”

She didn't believe that, but didn't see the point in telling him. “I just need to do this for myself.”

He nodded tightly. “How about waiting tables?”

“I'd have to write.”

He sighed. “You're going to have to write with almost any job, Scout. We can work on it.”

“I can deal with a job that requires minimal reading, but writing's different. I'm slow and incredibly self-conscious. I can't spell.”

“Who cares? Not everyone's a good speller.”

“I'd just rather not have a job that requires it.”

He looked back at the want ads. “Here's an opening for models. You could be a model.”

She hit him in the arm. “Shut up.”

“I'm serious. You could!”

“I don't think so.”

He shrugged and grumbled something. “How about a clerk at a grocery store? Clemons is hiring.”

She thought for a minute. She'd have to scan things, but as far as reading, there wouldn't be much required of her that she could think of. “How much is the pay?”

His lips pursed. “About an eighth of what you'd make modeling.”

“Forget the modeling!” She snatched the paper from him and searched. “Where is it?”

“Here.” He pointed, scooting closer.

“Eight dollars an hour, that's not too bad. I made more at Patras though. Maybe I should see about getting my old job back.”

A sour taste filled her mouth the minute the words left her. No, she couldn't work in Lucian's hotel ever again. What if she saw him? What if she saw him with someone else? Nausea swirled uncomfortably in her stomach.

“I don't think you should work at the hotel again.”

“Yeah, I know. It was just a thought. This looks good.”

Parker took the paper and tore out the advertisement. He jotted down a list of things she'd have to write on a résumé, like a fake social security number, her address, a sentence or two about why she would be a good candidate for the job. It would be much easier to fill out an application if she had the answers spelled out for her.

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes.” She went to the counter and found the phone Lucian gave her. “I don't know how much longer it will work.” It was sad seeing her empty mailbox. “Here, the number's on the back.”

Once they had everything organized, Scout cleaned herself up. She didn't know if she would be interviewing on the spot, so she chose soft brown pants, a cream sweater, and camel-colored boots. They were clothes of courage Lucian had bought her. She needed courage.

She didn't feel like putting on makeup, but she had to do something about the bags under her eyes, so she dabbed on some concealer she found in her purse and smeared a bit of gloss over her lips. That would have to do.

***

The stockroom of Clemons Market was cluttered and smelled slightly of cardboard and some sort of citrus oil. Mr. Travis Gerhard, a man who looked to be in his early twenties, was the assistant manager. After she filled out her application, he directed her to the stockroom he referred to as his office.

There was a chunky brown desk in the center and schedules surrounded by other notes tacked all over the yolk-colored walls. The drop ceiling had watermarks, and the gray metal filing cabinet wedged in the corner was dented and scraped along the side.

He leaned back in a wrinkled leather chair, his loafer-clad foot crossed over his knee. He wore a pale pink, short-sleeved button-down dress shirt with a gray tie that might have been a clip-on. He didn't look old, but he carried himself as though he were in his forties.

His top lip was covered with a brown mustache, and his eyes were magnified behind thick, wire-framed glasses. His hair was parted severely on the left of his crown.

As he read over her application, the quiet stockroom filled with the incessant flick, flick, flick of his pen as he twitched it between his fingers, tapping the edge of the paper.