Page 49 of It Never Was

"What?" Parker's eyes lock with Willows as he rises from the pastry case. His hand closes the glass door as he turns around to face us.

"I said, what day did you give Ryen a ride to work?" Willow's arms tighten to her chest, her body weight leaning onto her right leg, causing her hip to stick out the other side. She is standing like a defense mom.

"Today is Sunday...so Thursday?" His eyes slice to me as I bow my head down to avoid him, I feel them go back to Willow just as fast as they tried to catch mine.

"Interesting…very interesting," Willow turns her body towards me, "Don't you think Ryen?"

I try not to squirm, I've kept the truth from Willow before about Devon, I can do it again. I have never had to worry about her finding out the whole truth because no one else knew. This time it's different because Parker was a part of it. I didn't think he would bring it up again, but he did, and now I am royally fucked.

As I see it, I have two options here, come clean about Devon or try to make up another lie to cover up the truth that I was trying to keep from Willow.

Lie.

"Not particularly, no." I try to sound calm as I bend down and reach into the fridge below the counter.

Willow's brows pinch together, growing more frustrated she shifts her weight to the other leg as I grab the pitchers of cold brew out of the fridge.

"No? Wasn't that the day De—" before she can finish her sentence one pitcher of cold brew falls from my hand and shatters on the floor. Brown liquid and glass shards cover the tiles in every direction.

"Shit" I breathe out, Willow's shoes are soaked with coffee as are mine and Parker's.

Idiot!

I rush to my hands and knees to start cleaning up the mess I just created. Not realizing how much of the glass was at my feet. The burn is instant, the crimson red starts to spread on my palm, before I can register what just occurred.

"Ryen, what the fuck!" Willow shouts as she jumped backwards.

"I-I'm sorry." I stutter out, "Can you bring me the rags." Trying to hide the fact that my hands and knees are now cut. My mind is buzzing at a million miles a second.

What is wrong with you?

I start to pick up the larger pieces from the puddles on the ground. Watching the coffee drip off each piece as I placed them in my wounded palm.

I feel my body floating off the ground. I didn't even notice Parker come to my side. But here he is picking me up with more ease than I would think. His arm wrapped around my back and hands cupping under my arm. His other hand is under my knees, allowing my feet to dangle.

I look up at him about to fight that he puts me down, when he bellows past Willow, making his way to the back of the kitchen, making me aware of how he is holding me.

I need to get out of his arms. Now.

Willow's eyes follow us, I look over my shoulder at her. Her face is bunched up, hands full of rags as she stands in place staring at me, confusion written on her face.

"I don't know" I mouth to her, as Parker places me on the cold steel work bench next to the hand washing sink. She hesitates in her stance, looking like she doesn't know if she should stay or go back up front. Rags still in hand she comes to her decision and exits the kitchen, leaving me and Parker alone.

"I can do this after I clean up my mess out there" I say as I point in the direction of the front of the shop. I motion to get off the counter, but Parker's hands grab my own facing my palms up.

I inhale sharp as the pain in my hand comes into focus. My hand looks so small in Parkers it's almost comical. A giggle escapes my lips from the entertainment I find at the sight of our hands together.

"There's nothing funny here, Ryen." His voice is low and laced with worry. He is still looking at my palm, his thumb slightly caressing my hand as he examines my wound. It's only now that the heat sets in through my body.

He is touching me.

He shouldn't be touching me.

I want to run but I also want him to keep holding my hand. The mix of emotions swirling in my gut makes me nauseous.

"You have glass inside of the cut, I have to get it out." He says dryly. His jaw clenching and his eyes still on the cut that is starting to sting more and more as I sit here on the metal tabletop. My legs start to swing, my nerves are becoming hyper aware of the proximity in which he is with me now. His scent develops all around me, the hairs on my arms rise as tingles spread through my hand he is holding so gently in his.

Holy fuck.

---