Page 24 of Taurus

Chapter nine

Parker

I’vebeenawakesince I heard Austin’s alarm go off in his room next door. I rolled to my side and listened to him go about his morning. It’s the by-product of thin walls in older houses.

I could hear the clink of his belt as he buckled it, I heard his shoes tap against the hardwood as he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. I could picture every move, every shuffle, every decision, because he’s that ingrained in my mind, even a decade later.

I hear the coffee brewing and the smell begins to waft under my door, and I’m almost tempted to join him for a cup, but there’s something about this moment, listening to him now, that feels weirdly intimate and I don’t want it to end.

I’m so calm here, in this house. It’s home for me, and as much as I try to fight it, Austin being here feels right in so many ways.

I don’t move from my bed until I hear the back door close and there is at least sixty seconds of silence.

Once I have the all clear, I rise from the bed and begin my morning. I know I need to be present today. I need to show I’m taking this seriously and I’m not just some snooty bitch coming to swoop in and take all of this away.

But it’s around the time I stick my toothbrush in my mouth that everything shifts… everything changes… because I hear Austin call out for me from the dining room.

With a mouth still full of minty toothpaste and bristles still moving along my teeth, I answer his call and walk down the hall to find him.

“Yeah?” I ask as I turn the corner, but I stop in my tracks when I see him holding a small, cardboard box. “What is that?”

I didn’t have to ask. I know what that is, but I’m hoping with everything I have, that I’m wrong, because I’m not ready to face that reality. Not yet.

“They just dropped it off,” he says somberly. “It’s Warren’s ashes.”

I stare at him, still holding the stupid toothbrush in my mouth, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t think he knows either.

“Oh…” I say mostly under my breath.

“Where should I put this? I didn’t want to open it. You should do that, but you don’t have to do it alone. I can…”

“No,” I interrupt him. “I can do it. Just… put him on the table. I’ll finish brushing my teeth and deal with it, okay?”

“Parker, you don’t have to handle it alone. You shouldn’t.”

“I can do it. Just… go.”

I don’t give him a chance to respond before I turn and bolt back down to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I’ve known that Grandad was gone. Obviously, I’m a grown adult with a brain and I know he’s gone. I’m here, in his home, and he’s not here. He got sick and passed away. I know this in my brain, but my heart was never in a place to accept it.

Now, the physical proof of his absence is sitting in a goddamned cardboard box on his dining room table.

Austin

The sun is starting to set and Parker hasn’t come outside of the house all day long. I could have, and maybe should have, gone in to check on her, but I know how she feels about space when she’s hurting.

And the pain on her face was obvious.

We both knew his ashes were going to be delivered here at some point, but I think with the busyness of the pipe bursting and trying to find our balance of running the show together, it slipped to the back of our consciousness.

She wasn’t ready for that, and I feel like an asshole for being the one to shove her back into reality this morning, but I didn’t know what to do and still don’t.

So I allowed her the space to process what she needed to process, but the sun has set, our guests have left, the staff is gone, and I can’t avoid the house any longer.

The entire house is dark when I step inside. So dark, in fact, that if it wasn’t for her car in the driveway, I’d assume she wasn’t even here.

“Parker?” I call out as I empty my pockets of my keys and wallet onto the dining room table. “Park?” I call out again.

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