Page 13 of Dr. Attending

We both sip our drinks, trying to figure out where to go from here because that was just the tip of the very deep iceberg of our friendship.

“So,” Parker starts before I have a chance to dive in. “I got your messages . . . and emails . . . and letters.”

“A little desperate, huh?” I chuckle uncomfortably, slowly stroking the condensation on my glass with my thumb.

“A little.”

“Did you read them?”

I’m not trying to come off as a smartass—it’s a genuine question.

I laid everything on the table—the truth about the research from our chief year, what happened between me and Cass, and everything I’ve done to make both situations right. When my multiple attempts at explaining myself went unanswered, I got the point. He wasn’t interested in hearing me out.

Which is why I was honestly surprised when he agreed to meet me today—it’s not like anything has changed since then.

“I did.” Parker swallows and looks down at his drink, giving it a quick stir before meeting my gaze head on. “But I already knew all of that stuff.”

The knot in the base of my stomach transforms into a leaden cannonball because if he’s been sitting on the truth for this long, our conversation is pointless. There is quite literally nothing more that I can say.

I suck in a slow breath, trying to find my footing. “You did?”

Parker nods, and his expression softens. “I just needed time.”

It’s a simple explanation, but it does nothing to ease the emotion between us—the regret, frustration, and guilt coming from both sides.

“And now that you’ve had it?”

Parker’s jaw tightens like he’s trying to figure out the right words, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink, letting out a heavy sigh when he finally sets his glass down.

“I think I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

I blink, certain that I’ve misheard him.

Parker leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I know you’ve been trying to make things right, and I’ve refused to hear you out because I’ve been wallowing in this . . . resentment. At first, I thought I was pissed about the research. But it wasn’t that. Not once Swanson explained everything to me.”

I keep my mouth shut, letting him work through it.

He shakes his head, staring down at the stained concrete beneath us like he can’t bear to look at me. “But eventually, I realized it was all about Cass.”

“Parker, it—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts, his voice still steady but tinged with rare emotion. “I used the research bullshit as a crutch to stay mad at you instead of admitting the truth.”

I can tell that whatever he’s about to say has been weighing on him because his expression is almost pained when he lifts his head.

“I was . . . I was jealous of you.”

I must look as stunned as I feel because Parker lets out a half-chuckle.

“I didn’t say it was logical because I’m clearly better looking. But when I found out that you and Cass had such an extensive history, it brought me face-to-face with my biggest insecurity.”

“What? That you clearly have a thing for blondes?” I wink, feeling like this conversation needs a little bit of levity. “It’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Parker rolls his eyes at my joke.

“I’m serious, though,” he says after a beat. “It made me feel like she would prefer you over me, just like everyone else.”

I have to take a second to process his words.

---