Page 95 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
Parker’s brows pinch together as he hesitates, backpack in one hand, blanket in the other. “But you hate sitting on grass? Even with a blanket involved?”
I shake my head. “No, I love sitting on grass. I mean, I don’tloveit, I—” I break off with a rush of breath, the “L” word suddenly way more loaded than it was before. “Grass can actually be pretty itchy. And I’m really not a fan when it’s wet and slimy. But it’s not wet today, and that blanket looks great.”
He frowns harder, clearly smelling a babbling rat. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m always weird.”
“Weird in a new way,” he presses. “A constipated-looking way.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not being weird in a?—”
“Is it the dairy? We could go back to the bookstore. They have a nice bathroom.”
I let out an exasperated laugh. “Stop. I don’t need?—”
“Parker? Leo Parker? Where are you, honey?” The woman’s shout isn’t close, but the panic in her voice carries.
Parker glances over his shoulder. “Was that Miss Eugenia?”
We listen. Nothing but birds and the muffled sounds of the festival, then, “Parker! Leo Parker!” Closer now. Moving.
“Yeah, that’s definitely her.” He stuffs the blanket into his backpack. “She sounds?—”
“Worried,” I finish.
We push through the gate and the azaleas and jog up the narrow path, emerging onto the square just as Eugenia hustles past. Her big red hat is sliding sideways, and she’s clutching her chest as she jogs.
“Miss Eugenia!” Parker calls.
She whips around, relief and fear mixing in her expression. “Oh, thank God. Parker.” She grabs his arm, fighting to catch her breath. “Your Nana. We need to go. Fast, we?—”
“What happened?” he cuts in, his voice tight. “Is she okay?”
“She fainted. At the booth.” The words tumble out between gasps. “One minute she was laughing, and everything was fine. Then—” Her voice cracks. “Rita’s with her. Someone called 911.”
Parker’s already moving, faster than I’ve seen him move since his injury, a panicked sprint I hope isn’t hurting his knee again.
“Thank you,” I tell Eugenia, before dashing after him, leaving the older woman panting behind us.
The festival goers have formed a loose circle near the adult section, and someone’s shouting instructions.
Parker pushes through the crowd and stops dead.
I grind to a halt beside him just as the circle parts and…there she is. On the pavement. Too still. A man in a Cardinals shirt is doing compressions, counting steadily while her friend Rita kneels by her head, tears shining in her eyes.
Sirens wail in the distance, getting closer.
I reach for Parker, but he’s already gone, falling to his knees to grab his grandmother’s hand.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
PARKER
The ambulance ride is hell.
Pure fucking hell.
