Page 17 of Wish We Were There

It sounded far more chipper than he felt, which was exactly what he was going for. Parker replied with two emojis: a thumbs-up and a smile. Taylor smiled stupidly at his phone for a moment, before forcing himself to put it away, feeling ridiculous at how sappy the two little pictures could make him.

But by the time Sunday rolled around, doubt had gnawed at Taylor’s insides until he was entirely hollow again. He arrived at the Bridge—he needed to decide on a new name, too—earlier than he and Parker had agreed, fumbling with the keys as he let himself in. Everything inside was dusty and stale; just as grim as he felt.

He was sure Parker had only agreed to help out of pity. He felt sorry for Taylor, and that was all—Taylor asking this of him was only a burden. He couldn’t even recall with certainty the last time they’d hung out before Zach died, so why the hell would Parker want to just spend time with him as a friend now?

Taylor was an idiot to even hope Parker had feelings for him. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for Parker. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

How long had he been standing in the middle of the pit, staring vacantly at the stage? With a groan of self-pity, he shook himself out of the stupor that he’d found himself in, though his mood remained dark as ever. Parker would be here soon, so he had to at least look busy. He started with the bar, running the sink in the back to fill it with hot, soapy water. Every surface was going to need a good cleaning, and while he had to be careful not to get the cast wet, it seemed like an easy enough task to start with.

He’d finished scrubbing down the countertops and was working on the empty ice bin when the front door clattered open. He paused, peering over the bar just in case it was some curious pedestrian who’d come inside instead of Parker. But the footfalls coming through the entry hall were familiar; Parker appeared in the hallway, making Taylor’s heart jump.

“Hey!” Parker said breathlessly, a wide smile crossing his face. Even from across the room, Taylor could see the way his warm brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. His dark hair was tousled from the breeze outdoors, his face flushed from the wind.

He looked so unbearably happy to see Taylor that all the bleak thoughts that had been clouding his mind were gone in an instant. “I’m not late, am I?”

Taylor blinked, processing. “Oh, uh—no, not at all. I just wanted to get an early start.”

Parker’s smile remained as he stepped up toward the bar. “Good. Want me to help you with that, or are you going to put me to work somewhere else?”

Taylor laughed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you take this over? I’m really not supposed to be getting the cast wet, but it’s kind of tricky to avoid...”

Parker’s cheerful grin finally faltered. “Shit, I said I would help you get the appointment set up, then I never did. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Taylor replied quickly, waving the words away. “It’s all on me. I keep meaning to. It’s so stupid.”

“Let’s call right now,” Parker prompted him, pulling his phone from his pocket. “So I don’t forget again. What’s the number?”

Taylor’s heart flip-flopped painfully in his chest—that was the last thing he wanted to worry about right now. “Um, I’m not sure. I’ll have to look it up, and my phone is in the back...”

He trailed off. Parker gave him an appraising look, somehow recognizing Taylor’s reluctance as he put his phone in his back pocket again.

“Okay. Maybe when we take a break for lunch, then,” Parker replied. “Don’t let me forget again. We have got to get that cast off you before this place opens, you know?”

Taylor managed to laugh again. He always felt so much better when Parker was around—the other man always knew exactly what to say to make him laugh or smile when he got too much into his head—the way he’d been doing all day.

“Maybe I can just dissolve it off in the water,” he joked, handing over the sponge he’d been using to scrub out the ice bin. “No appointment needed then.”

Parker laughed, rolling up his sleeves. “I do not want to be the one to clean that up. No, let’s leave it to the professionals, please.”

Taylor stepped back, and Parker went right to work scrubbing out the bin. He watched for a moment, feeling heat rising in his face as his eyes lingered on the shadow Parker’s eyelashes cast down his face, the way his shirt lifted a little bit to expose a sliver of his back and the waistband of his underwear as he leaned forward to reach into the deep bin.

“Hey, do you—oh,” Parker stammered, turning back to look at Taylor, catching him obviously staring. Taylor glanced away, sure his face was bright red, but when he looked back, Parker looked just as flustered. “I was gonna ask, um, do you have any of those rubber cleaning gloves? Maybe those will help, you know, if you’re worried about the cast getting wet and all...”

Taylor laughed nervously. “I’ll have to dig around in the cleaning supplies Zed left behind to see what he has. Let me check.”

His heart rate had slowed back to a normal pace once he’d looked through the back room, eventually finding a package of rubber gloves wedged into a box of paper towels. Taylor pulled one over his cast, then brought the rest to Parker.

“You were right,” he chuckled as Parker took the gloves.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Parker asked.

“I think I want to get everything clean to get a better idea of what’s salvageable,” Taylor sighed, looking around. “I don’t want to do too much of a deep clean in case a lot of things need to be replaced, but I think once all the dust is gone, I’ll have a better sense of what shape all the bar stuff is in.”

“Have you talked to anyone about the floor or the stage?”

Taylor shook his head. “No, but that’s on my list.”

Parker nodded. “Well, let’s finish up the bar and the back room, then. Sounds good?”

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