Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Another bump to the shoulder and all my sense crashed back at once.
“Nova!” Rae squealed. “It’s Parker freaking Callahan. Say something.”
Too loud, too bright, too much.
I snatched the phone and exited the app.
“Uhhh.” Rae’s jaw hung open, and I struggled to come up with a valid reason for ripping the phone from her hands.
“Umm…” I forced a laugh which was more of an expulsion of air with a squeak. “That was awkward.”
The phone vibrated in my hand, and I glanced down to see an Instagram notification.
Fuck. Shit fuck. Fuck shit fuck.
“Dude,” Rae said, unimpressed with my response.
“More shots,” I shouted. Me drinking always distracted Rae.
She shook her head and smiled. “Missed opportunity, homegirl.”
My phone vibrated again, and I shrugged. “Let me run to the restroom, and I’ll meet you there. Grab me two.” I was going to need it.
She snagged Austin and tugged him behind her. With a shaking hand, I swiped open the notification.
Parker Callahan: Give me your number.
Parker Callahan: If you don’t, I’ll figure out who your friend is and ask her. She seems eager to connect us.
Oh, shit snacks.
I imagined him figuring out who Rae was. It wouldn’t be hard. My profile was public even if I used an off name and never showed my face. She splashed her face all over her feed, and it wouldn’t take much to connect the pieces through our friendship. I imagined the conversation and cringed when Rae would eventually find out that I wasn’t just a fan of Parker Callahan from The Hidden Obsession but had been in love with him once upon a time when he’d not only been my biggest crush but my stepbrother, too.
Psithursm: I don’t want to talk.
Parker Callahan: Is she Raelynn Vos?
Parker Callahan: I only saw her in the dark, but I’m willing to guess.
Psithurism: Fine.
I sent him my number and held my breath.
Within seconds my phone vibrated with an unfamiliar number and a New York area code. Part of me half expected his name to pop up like it had all those years ago, like maybe he kept the same number.
Taking one last deep breath, I accepted the call and lifted the phone to my ear, pinching my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
But nothing could prepare me to hear him say my name again.
“Nova.”
Damn.
Just my name and all the emotions I’d fought to block out years ago flooded back, rendering it impossible to do anything but wince at the pain and smile at the memories.
Because Parker Callahan always came with both.
PARKER
“Parker.”
I never thought I’d hear that voice again. I’d let go of that dream a long time ago. But just my name, and it stirred all the old emotions that came with it.
The swell of heat. The rush of need.
The resentment.
The anger.
The hurt.
“Hey,” I finally responded, at a loss for words for the first time in my life.
“Hey.”
We both laughed at the one-word greetings.
“Were we always this awkward?” I asked.
“I was,” she admitted. “But you? Never.”
“I was with you.”
“Bullshit,” she crowed.
“Please. You came in all cool and collected, and I just jumped at the chance to pull you out of your shell so I could talk to you.”
“I think we remember things a wee bit differently, Parker Callahan.”
“Nah, I’m always right,” I said, flopping back on the couch in yet another hotel.
“Yeah, right.”
I could still hear the music in the background through her phone, but it faded as if she left the room she’d been dancing in before.
Of all the ways I imagined seeing Nova Hearst again, watching her twerk on an empty dance floor in some kind of champagne silk that clung to her soft curves on an Instagram live would have been my very last guess. It wouldn’t have even made the list.
Accidentally running into her at a library, coffee shop, or art show sat at the top of my list of places to possibly find the girl who vanished into thin air. I didn’t even like art shows, but I’d gone to more than I’d care to admit on the off chance she’d be there.
A tired, heavy sigh reached through the phone, and I didn’t know what time zone she was in, but my clock read eleven-fifty-two. The Nova I remembered never could stay up too late. Always an early riser looking for the best morning light for her art.
“How are you, Nova?”
“I’m…good.” I liked that I could hear the smile in her answer. I liked finding out she was happy because she deserved it after what she’d gone through. After what I’d failed to protect her from. “I’d ask you how you’ve been, but it seems redundant when it’s all over the internet.”
“That’s the internet. You should know it’s not always right.”
“True. So, I guess I’ll go ahead and ask. How are you, Parker?”
After a long pause, leaving her hanging, I answered. “Good.”