Page 18 of Crossed
But she found out about Florence anyway.
And after she made a scene in front of the entire town, she disappeared, the way she always had before. Only this time, she didn’t take us with her. And whether she knew it or not, she handed me over to Parker on a silver platter.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Not if I want to keep Quinten safe and a roof over our heads, and Parker’s weird fixation on me lends itself to a type of protection that I wouldn’t get anywhere else. He’s the mayor’s best friend. He’s a dangerous and powerful man. And although people still sneer and whisper about the rumors my mother left in her wake, when he’s around, at least they don’t say it to my face.
“Amaya,” Parker says as he walks into his office.
The lock clicks as he closes the door, and his voice grates over my skin, leaving it raw.
“Parker.” I force a tight grin.
I peer at him closely, trying to figure out whether he recognized me at work. He’s never been there before, and him popping up out of the blue worries me. The thought of him stripping away the last piece of my freedom makes me sick to my stomach. As it is, he thinks I make my money from doing freelance data entry work from the comfort of my home.
His fingers coast along the back of my neck as he breezes by where I’m sitting, the touch so light it could be considered an accident. But I know better. Parker doesn’thaveaccidents. Everything he does is methodical.
He moves to sit behind his desk, his gaze undressing me like I’m a gift sent just for him.
I don’t like his staring, and I like staring athimeven less.
It’s not that his face isn’t appealing; it is, and most women in this town drool at the sight of him simply because his money makes him the most eligible bachelor in Festivalé. But to me, he’s just another filthy creep. A bad man dressed up in thousand- dollar suits.
He continues to watch me, and my hands grow clammy in the silence. If he doesn’t speak soon, I might throw up all over his fancy wood floors.
“You look nice,” he finally says. “Everything good with Quinten?”
“He’s fine.” My chest smarts. I don’t like him pretending that he cares.
He nods slowly. “School treating him well?”
I grit my teeth becauseno, it isn’t, and I’m pretty confident that Parker knows that. Quinten and public schooling don’t mesh. There are too many students and not enough support for someone on the spectrum. He doesn’t do well with standing in lines or with having to keep still and quiet at a desk, and no matter how many times I fight for accommodations that allow him to feel safe and comfortable, his teachers shut it down. His iPad is part of his self-regulation, and they don’t allow that in class. So he acts out, and then I get a phone call where I end up fighting back tears as I beg for them to reevaluate his IEP: his individualized education program. The school is understaffed and underfunded, and they don’t care aboutwhyQuinten might be struggling. They only care that he is.
But I can’t afford to put him anywhere else.
“It’s the same as always,” I reply carefully.
Parker sighs, standing up and moving until he sinks down into the chair next to me, reaching out to grasp my fingers. “I don’t know why you insist on resisting this. I could take care of you.”How many times can we have this same conversation?
“I’m not interested in the ways I’d have to pay for that.” I pull my hand back.
The muscle in his jaw ticks, and he runs his hand through his slicked- back hair. “Would it really be so bad? To be with me?”
“It’s not that it would bebad,” I say, even though it would be. “It just wouldn’t be real.”
“I can shelter you,” he argues. “Take care of you. Put Quinten in the best private school in the state. You’ll never want for anything again.”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but him using what I care about most to try and control me makes hatred burn through my veins. Parker knows me well enough to know I would do absolutely anything for Quinten, and my biggest fear is one day having no choice but to shackle myself to a man who would use stability and the people I love as a bargaining chip.
He’s already taken so much.
“Parker,” I plead, wishing he would stop doing thiseverysingle time. “I can’t.”
“Fine.” His features drop, the softness molding into harsh edges, a coldness entering his gaze. “You got my money?”
A sharp laugh escapes me before I say, “Don’t I always?”
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he spits.
“You.” I wave my hand in between us. “This.You want me to be with you, tomarryyou, but you’re the reason we’re struggling so much in the first place.”
