Free Kismet by AE Woodward Page A

it in my mouth and swallow it dry. “I’m here for you,” he promises.
    Parker stands next to the door, waiting for me. He looks nervous, which is uncharacteristic for him. I’ve never known him to be lacking confidence or unsure of himself. Ever. It was always part of the allure of Parker McKenzie—he was everything I wasn’t. Growing up, I wasn’t the only one to appreciate it either. The beautiful girls were always chasing him. I remember going to baseball games and sitting behind the older girls, and they would all ogle over Parker and Tommy, but especially Parker. For just a moment, I forget everything that’s gone on in my life, and I find myself reveling in his beauty again.
    He reaches his hand out to me, urging me to come since I seemingly have become stuck to the kitchen floor. Without even thinking twice, I place my hand into his as I step toward the screen door. His hands are rough, just like I always remembered them. Calloused from manual labor and working on cars. We walk to the car hand in hand and I can’t believe how calm I am. Is it the result of being with Parker? Or is it just the medication Stevenson gave me going into effect already?
    Parker opens the door of his Mustang for me. “It’s been a while since we went joyriding, huh, kiddo?” he smirks.
    I find myself smiling as I slide into the passenger seat, and even though I’m in a car again, I feel no anxiety because I know I’m safe. But once again, I’m not sure if it’s the drugs, or the effects of Parker. In a weak attempt to gain control of myself, I shake my head. I feel extremely relaxed, and I shouldn’t. Everyone I loved is dead… and it was my fault. I need to remember that.
    The Mustang kicks to life and I jump. Parker looks at me tentatively. Smiling to myself I realize that he is so far out of his comfort zone—this is not Parker McKenzie territory. When push comes to shove, he doesn’t take care of anyone but himself. He always has. He is number one, and that is it.
    But the emotions that I’m fighting back, the way I relax in his presence, the way the simplest of his touches makes me feel… they all point to one thing.
    Without a doubt, I am still in love with Parker McKenzie.
    I growl at myself.
    Literally, growl.
    Damn medication, making me all soft.
    Parker looks at me quizzically, obviously taken aback by the noises coming from my mouth. I hate this medication that Stevenson has given me. It’s knocked down walls that have been set up for a reason. The medication that I got in the hospital was so much better. I’d much rather be knocked out than to have to deal with things that I have fought hard to lock away.
    We drive in silence for a while before Parker finally turns on the radio. Classic rock blares through the speakers and his thumbs tap the beat on the steering wheel. He keeps giving me sideways glances, obviously checking on my mental state. But the closer we get to the cemetery, the calmer I feel. It feels so wrong and it’s driving me crazy. I begin to doze off. Probably another side effect of this damned medication.
     
    Sixteen-year-old me is having the time of her life, sitting “bitch” as the boys call it, in Tommy’s truck. Parker is driving Tommy and I around the back dirt roads, making sure we hit every mud puddle he sees. I squeal every time he spots one and presses on the gas. Tommy drops his beer and Parker laughs, smacking my leg for me to get a look. “Fuck!” Tommy yells. “Mom and Pop are going to smell that and kick my ass, again.”
    “Stop drinking in the truck,” I scold, turning the music down.
    “Yeah,” Parker starts, “listen to your sister, she’s smarter than the both of us combined.” He turns to me and winks, and my heart betrays me by fluttering in my chest. I flush and Parker smiles. Damn me, I knew better than to go joyriding with Parker McKenzie.
     
    A light tapping on my leg gets my attention. “Hey, kiddo, we’re here,” Parker purrs. That seemed like