Page 14 of Twisted Needs

“Not yet,” I answered.

“Okay. If you can hold off until we’re done, I’ll make you something to eat.”

I stare at him for a moment.

Parker immediately snaps me out of my trance. “Okay?” he asks me, voice still. “Dinner? Yes?”

Bishop makes the loudest, most obnoxious sound of disbelief I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Yeah,” I mutter slowly. “Thanks.”

“This is adorable,” Bish retorts, gesturing between us.

I bite down on a smile and head upstairs before Parker can murder his teammate in my presence, but halfway up the stairs, I stop when I hear Bishop lower his voice.

“You know his brother would kill you,” he warns Parker quietly.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Parker lets out a rough, tired laugh that settles sharply beneath his ribs. “There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”

I like how he only uses the word friends when it’s convenient for him…

“He’s half your age,” Bish points out. “The kid is not your friend.

My entire body goes still. The banister creaks beneath my grip. For one reckless second, I don’t breathe.

“I’ve got it covered,” Parker mutters plainly.

I don’t let myself stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. Mostly because I can’t stand to hear him lie right to Bishop’s face.

CHAPTER 5

BLIZZARD

ANDERS

Two Years Back

Parker comes into the laundry room still half-wrapped in his winter coat. His dark hair has a few snowflakes that stick to his ends, and his face is flushed from the cold. He stops when he sees me and pauses.

Outside, the snow keeps coming down in sheets that seem to get thicker and thicker by the hour. Probably not a good time to come over and do my laundry, but I’m down to my last pair of briefs and I’m all out of quarters.

“Saw your car parked on the street. I put your windshield wipers up for you.”

“Oh, I just came to do laundry,” I explain, holding up a dirty sock.

“Yeah, I gathered.” His eyes flick to the machine, then back to me, and something in his expression softens in a way I don’t know what to do with. The relief is small, but I notice it anyway.

“You saw the weather report?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s bad.”

“It’s worse outside the city,” he says, already pulling off his gloves. “I’m glad you’re here, though. I was literally about to call you and ask if you’d wanna come and hunker down with me.”

It lands so simply that my brain doesn’t immediately know where to place it. I hear myself try to make it complicated and internally scream.

“A kidnapping,” I retort.

“I have two generators and ice cream on standby.”