When To Let Go (21 page)

Violet kissed him with everything she had, wanting him to know how crazy she had become about him, because she had.

The concert was a blast. Violet was successfully able to ignore Parker and his blatant sexual display. At one point, someone in their group was asking them to find a bathroom and not have sex while sitting right there.

Violet didn’t look over to find out if they were or not. She didn't want to care anymore. She had a guy that truly cared about her and wanted to be with her. She had finally learned how to let Parker go...or to at least convince herself that she had.

Date number nine lead to months. Four to be exact. The couple groped each other in Violet’s driveway. Both of them were deeply infatuated, the desire of a new relationship making it so they were unable to keep their hands off each other.

“I know what happens next,” Violet breathed heavily as Peter sucked along her neck, his hand under her shirt.

“What's that,” he murmured, his fingers playing with her nipple in a way he had discovered she loved.

She took a moment to enjoy what he was doing, reaffirming what she was about to tell him, “The guy, who's now really her boyfriend.” She liked the way he smiled and nodded into her neck as he continued to deliciously play with her sensitive skin, “Offers to make her dinner – they both know he'll order takeout – at his place, where they have only hung out a few times, hoping – but not expecting – that this will lead to them going to his bedroom, where despite his abundance of experience, he’ll be just as insecure and nervous as she is.”

Peter stilled, slowly lifting his head, searching her eyes, “That doesn't have to happen. I can wait for however long you need.”

“I don't want to wait,” she assured him, kissing his lips. It felt right. Their whole relationship did. The past four months had been some of the best in her life.

“Why don't I cook you dinner and we can take it slow, no pressure?”

Violet agreed, knowing there was only one way the night would end. She couldn't wait any longer. All this foreplay had been driving her insane, and she thought she might combust if things didn’t progress.

Six weeks later, Parker couldn't believe that his life had gotten so pathetic he was tagging along on a date with his sister and her boyfriend.

Wes had won his eleventh game in a row as the team’s captain, and they were celebrating at an overpriced, fancy restaurant.

They didn't make Parker feel unwanted, but it was obvious that this night was planned to be a romantic one that he was ruining because he couldn't stand being home. He was sick and tired of going to bars.

“How are you handling Vi and Peter?” Wes asked after they had given their orders.

Parker ordered a Double Royal on the rocks, which he planned on finishing, plus several after that.

He tried to remain as aloof and reserved as possible, “It's weird, but whatever.”

It was more than weird. Violet was over at his place all the time and it was never to see him.

His chest tightened, remembering the times he’d caught them fooling around on the sofa, or just laughing together – that one almost hurt the most. Every time he had to look at Peter or even hear him breathing he wanted to beat the shit out of him. What right did he have to go out with Violet and call her his fucking girlfriend?! Wasn't there supposed to be some kind of Bro Code that forbade friends going out with another friend’s girl?

Except Violet wasn't Parker's.

His drink arrived just in time. He knocked it back in one swallow. Ava and Wes stared at him as though they were worried he was going to jump over a cliff.

It was tempting. He had never been this fucking depressed in his life.

Depression didn’t feel like a strong enough word to cover it all.

The two had the good sense not to bring up the golden couple again. They even stopped trying to include Parker in their conversations, since he only answered with one or two words.

He knew the right thing was to not have come at all, but his life was that pitiful that he had nowhere else to go. He had already hung out with his moms all day, which at twenty-two years old was a level of pathetic he couldn't handle. Not yet anyway, give it another week or two.

He knocked back another double.

It became his third, no fourth...hmm, maybe it was his fifth…either way, he was good and drunk, not even remembering the car ride home or how his drunk ass had stumbled up the stairs to his apartment. Lucky for him the door was unlocked so he didn’t have to try and do it himself. The only light in the apartment was a glow coming from the fridge.

He set his wallet, keys, and phone down on the counter.

A head poked up. “What are you in the mood...” Violet stared at Parker, unblinking.

Parker did the same, except he was able to notice the flush to her cheeks, the vibrant way her eyes shined, and the sexy way her hair was tousled and messy. He had seen that look on hundreds of women.

He thought he might be sick. Especially when Peter came out in only his boxer briefs, talking to Violet as though this happened all the time.

“Hey, babe, can you grab me...” Peter also trailed off, but his lasted a fraction of a second, not letting Parker's presence bother him, “...a beer?”

“Sure,” Violet replied in a soft voice, grabbing a few things from the fridge and closing it, holding them in her arms. Now the only light came from a street lamp right outside the kitchen window, showcasing her wearing only a crocheted afghan, the one Peter's grandma had made him that was always on his bed.

“When did this start happening?” Parker slurred, the room spinning (and not from the alcohol).

None of this was right. None of this was the way it was supposed to be. Violet was supposed to be his. Her body, and everything she had to offer, were meant for Parker, and only Parker.

Violet tightened her hold on the afghan, “Why does it matter?”

It didn't, but at the same time it did.

“How does it feel to be another notch on his bed post, another one of his sluts?” Parker was saying things he knew he shouldn't, things he didn't mean.

“Fuck off, you’re drunk,” Peter ordered as though he owned the place, coming closer to help Violet.

Violet held her hand up to stop Peter, her steely eyes placed on Parker.

He was about to get a verbal smack down. He recognized when she had lost it.

He was ready for it, it would give him an excuse to be more of an ass.

“We've been sleeping together for over a month. The night I lost my virginity, he told me he loved me. I know what you’re about to say, that he tells that to every girl, but we
both
know you’d be lying. I don't care if you like us being together or not. It's happening. Get over it. If you can't, that's your problem. Regardless, you are never allowed to talk down to me like that again. Got it?”

Parker had no rebuttal; everything she had said was true.

He left, but not before punching Peter square in the jaw.

He hopped into his car, his intoxicated driving a stupid idea.

It didn't take long before he had arrived at The Recovery Room. Parker scanned the bar, not looking for what he usually sought; that wouldn't do for tonight. He needed physical pain to take away the internal one.

He spotted exactly what he was looking for – a guy twice his size and almost as drunk. Parker had no trouble provoking the guy. It lead to a full on brawl that had both men bloody and breaking chairs and tables all around them. It didn’t stop until the police arrived, arresting both men.

When it was time for his phone call, he had already figured out who he wanted it to be. It was a decision he made for selfish reasons that he would later come to regret and think of as the worst decision he’d ever made, and that's saying something.

Late into the night, Parker emerged from the downtown Mesa Police Department.

Noah Baxter was leaning at the bottom of the stairs on a rail, waiting for him.

“Thanks,” Parker mumbled.

Noah didn't speak until they were in the privacy of his car, “What happened?”

Parker appreciated that he didn't sound disappointed or concerned, only curious.

“Had a bad night. Needed someone to take it out on.”

“Could have called me.”

He should have; unfortunately, he was too far gone to have thought of it.

“Want to talk about it?”

This was the moment he would come to regret, “Came home to find out Peter's been fucking Violet.”

“Excuse me?” Noah roared the engine to life, driving the car as he asked.

“Yup, it's been happening for some time.”

Coward. Useless-fucking-coward, who also happened to be pathetic and undeserving of anyone’s love. Who tattled on their best friend since elementary school?

Pathetic, cowardly, worthless losers, that's who, and Parker was their fucking president.

It took Noah five minutes to make a fifteen minute drive. He stormed up Parker's apartment stairs, his rage strong enough that Parker expected to hear thunder clapping the sky.

The door was still unlocked from earlier, which was a good thing. Parker didn’t think Noah had the patience for locks at the moment, and probably would have kicked the door in to save time.

Parker followed like a greedy fucking pet, wanting his treat.

It was delivered the minute Noah threw open Peter's bedroom door, where Violet happened to be on top of Peter, her naked backside to the door.

Violet jumped from the noise, snatching the sheet to cover herself as she got off of Peter and faced the door.

The two on the bed paled at the sight of Noah's massive form entering the room.

Noah's skin was the reddest Parker had ever seen it as he shouted at Violet, “You have one minute to get your ass in my fucking car!” He then pointed at Peter, “Don't ever come near my daughter again.”

Peter opened his mouth, Noah stopping him, “My best advice to you is to not say a word. Not a fucking peep.”

Noah left, the walls rattling in his wake.

Violet threw on a shirt and pants in a blur. She snatched her other belongings, not even glancing at Peter as she left, fear evidently having her main focus. She brushed past Parker, coming to a halt at the end of the hall as if his presence finally registered.

She whipped around.

“
You
,” she gasped, a hand covering her mouth. “You told him!”

The betrayal in her eyes would haunt him for years.

He took a step closer, not sure what he was going to do or say. He knew it had to be something, and quick, before he lost her.

She held her hand up, stopping him, “I don't want you to talk to me, text me, or look at me again.” She choked back her next words, tears falling down her cheeks, “I want you out of my life.”

She left with more tears streaming down her face.

Peter then took a turn, which Parker deserved, “You’re a fucking dick. I thought Violet meant something to you. As soon as I find a new place, I'm moving out.”

His bedroom door slammed shut in Parker's face.

He shuffled to the kitchen, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for – an almost full bottle of Jack. He unscrewed the cap, drinking straight from the bottle all the way to his bedroom.

He fell down on the bed, taking swig after swig until he passed out.

A dip in the bed and somebody stealing the Jack from his clasp had Parker opening an eye to find out who the perpetrator was.

He quickly closed them, the light of the afternoon sun too much to handle, making him aware of his throbbing headache. The sound of the bottle clinking against the wood of his nightstand might as well have been a jackhammer drilling into his skull. A glass of water with a straw was thrust into his mouth. The few sips he managed had all the alcohol inside him threating to come out.

He shoved the drink away, splashing his hand and the area around it, taking in unsteady air through his nose while he waited for the nausea to pass.

Next came a saltine that he curled his lips in like a baby, refusing it.

“Come on, you have to eat something to help absorb the alcohol.”

“What are you doing here?” His hoarse voice croaked.

“Taking care of you,” his sister replied, as though it was obvious.

Ava was the last person he wanted to see. He was ashamed for her to see him this way, so hung-over that he couldn’t move, reeking of booze, the floor under his bed covered in puke from when his body was too inebriated to get out of bed.

“You never showed for the family barbeque,” she began to explain, reading his mind on how she knew he might need her. “Neither did Violet. Mr. Baxter seemed more irritated than normal. I remembered how drunk you got at dinner...”

She didn't need to continue, it was obvious something had happened after Wes had dropped him off last night.

“Maggie told me what you did,” she confessed, cleaning up his puke. “It was when I was leaving to find you. She thought I should know. She didn't think you were worth coming to find.”

He wasn't.

“But you’re not
her
big brother,” Ava revealed, absorbed in her cleaning. “The same brother who always looked after me, who made sure my worst days were nothing in comparison to his.”

Parker became aware of how dry his throat was and how hard it was to swallow.

Nothing more was said.

She stayed with him for the rest of the day, managing food and hydration into his system, refusing him any more alcohol.