Page 11 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
I don’t know what to do with that right now.
But I know I’m grateful.
So fucking grateful.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice breaking as tears fill my eyes again. “Thank you so much, Parker.”
“Of course, weirdo.” He reaches over and takes my hand again, his fingers warm and steady. “Anytime. Every time.”
I shouldn’t cling to him. I should give his hand a thankful squeeze and let go, remember all the reasons having more-than-friends feelings for him is a bad idea.
Instead, I hold on tight.
Just for now. Just until the shaking stops.
Just until I figure out what comes next.
Parker eventually merges onto the highway, picking up speed, leaving the flood behind us.
But I have a feeling I’m already in deep water of a different kind…
The kind that leaves a girl rethinking the wisdom of staying in the shallow end.
Chapter
Three
PARKER
My knee is fucked.
I know this with the same certainty that I know the sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Makena looks criminally good in soaking wet underwear.
But as I pull into my driveway, I keep my mouth shut about the throbbing behind my patella. Acknowledging it aloud might make it real, and I’m not ready for real at four a.m. after nearly dying at least once tonight.
What I’m ready for is sleep.
And ice.
And possibly amputation if it means the stabbing pain will stop.
But first, I need to get Makena inside without letting her see me limp. She’s not stupid. She’ll know what a big deal an injury like this is for a man who makes his living as a professional athlete, and I refuse to give her anything else to be upset about tonight.
She’s been through enough.
“Wow. This is really nice,” she says as I cut the engine. Her voice is small, exhausted. She’s got my gym towel wrappedaround her shoulders, but it’s doing fuck-all to hide the fact that she’s basically naked.
But at least she’s stopped shaking. For a while there, I was afraid she was going into shock, and we should be on our way to the ER instead of my place.
The ER would be smart for both of you, idiot. That knee isn’t going to get any less fucked by sitting around with your thumb up your ass.
But I enjoy having a thumb up my ass, I remind the inner voice. Aloud, I say, “Thank you. I don’t like to brag, but my lawn is the envy of all who behold it.”
She nods. “It’s hot. And giving major suburban dad energy. Do you mow it yourself?
“I do. And fertilize it. And roll naked across it when the moon is full.”
“But only when it’s full,” she deadpans. “That would be weird during a new moon.”
