Love's Paradox

Chapter 12: Vagabonds Over Propriety

"You home?" I ask Hunter over the phone as Parker escorts me to his car in the ER parking lot.

"No. I'm sorry I couldn't make it back to town after everything." His voice is like grating sandpaper, worn and ragged. "How you feeling?"

"Apoplectic."

"When you start using words I don't even know, then I know you're out of sorts. More than you should be. What's wrong, sweet cheeks?"

"Ian wasn't charged; he was never even arrested."

"What?" Hunter's anger lashes out like the crack of a whip.

"Hearsay or whatever." I temper my breathing, making an effort not to cry. "It's bullshit."

"Do you need me to come home tonight? I can cancel."

"That's sweet, Hunter, but I like it when you pay your half of the rent on time," I say, infusing a note of frivolity into the conversation, even if it is a smoke screen. I don't want him to brood all night, which he will if he knew my state of mind.

"You sure?" he asks, concern evident in his tone.

"Positive. Besides, Parker's with me."

There's a brief pause fraught with meaning. "As long as you aren't alone."

"I won't be."

We say our goodbyes, and I sigh and lean against Parker as we navigate around parked cars.

"You live with a dude?" Parker asks with a wry grin.

"Yeah. He's a stripper as well," I add, gauging his reaction. "Goes by the name of Cowboy Beau. And he's straight."

"When will he be home?"

"Monday evening. Why?"

"It'd make me feel better if he was there, that's all," he explains while opening the passenger door.

I freeze, momentarily stunned by his easy acceptance of Hunter in my life. "Oh," is all I say.

After Ian's jealous mood swings, I'm not sure how to reconcile myself to Parker's lack of insecurity. Some former part of me wants to defend my choice to be friends with Hunter, but I don't have to anymore. Parker already accepts me for who I am, and a sense of peace washes over me.

We ride in silence for a while as I admire his car. Stitched leather, large, touch screen display, smooth ride. But what else should I expect from a man whose family owns an oil company?

The closer we drive to my apartment, the more I seize up at the memories from this afternoon. Even after everything Ian had put me through at the end of our relationship, I never thought he'd stoop that low again. In my mind, singing at Loretta's Bar was my way of letting go of the past and moving forward, but instead I've only invited him to escalate his pursuance.

Regardless of our tainted past, not all of it was nefarious. For several years we were happy. The mental abuse didn't mushroom to the physical kind until the very end. In hindsight, I can see now that Ian always had the tendencies to become the man he'd turned into those last few months we were together. For longer than I care to admit, I was the model of propriety when around him. The difference was that I'd become less pliable the older I became, while his idiosyncrasies merely solidified that I was his to mold into whatever shape he deemed desirable and appropriate.

"You okay?" Parker asks, disrupting my thoughts.

My hands twist together as unease and panic slip past my mental defenses.

"Hey." He brushes hair away from my face and touches my temple. "What's going on in there?"

"I don't want to go back there," I say in a rush; the words fly out of my mouth before I can sensor them. It's the same thing I said to Ian earlier, except now it's about my own apartment.