“Why are you naked?” I asked, resisting the urge to kick off my own shoes.
“Can’t stand that fucking thing. I didn’t want to wear one in the first place, and I’m sure as hell not wearing it one minute longer. Besides, I’m going to sleep, and I’m not waking up ’til July.” He slid into the pristinely made bed, rucking the covers up and sprawling his big body out facedown across the crisp sheets.
I stared at him, unsure whether to let him hide in the bed or not. “Are you going to actually sleep, or are you going to fall into a mental spin cycle of self-doubt and guilt?”
His muffled voice spoke into the pillow. “Second one.”
“That’s what I thought. And I will allow you exactly one hour for wallowing. And then you’re coming with me to Aster Valley, and you can wallow there in my wallow hole. I’m going to go downstairs and help sort out the bullshit. When I get back up here, we’re packing and leaving.”
“Mpfh.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I warned.
He shot me the bird. I swiped his room key and headed back out.
Hazel and my parents were waiting for me in the lobby.
Hazel rushed over and wrapped her arms around me. “Is Parks okay?” she demanded. I saw the same helpless guilt on her face that I felt, like we should have foreseen this somehow and prevented it.
I shrugged. “For now. But you know how he is. The more serious the situation, the more he jokes.” When this all finally hit him, though, he was going to be devastated.
It took longer than an hour to help sort everything out with the hotel and all the guests, but the woman in charge was amazing. She’d clearly had to do this exact thing for clients in the past, and it was obvious she knew how to handle it with professionalism and grace. When everything was finally sorted, and I was able to convince the Rokas and my parents not to try and make the drive home this late in the day, I went back upstairs to pack my stuff.
Nolan’s stuff was gone, which was probably for the best since I was still feeling murdery and my knuckles were already bruised.
Once my bag was packed and I’d changed into more comfortable clothes for the drive, I rolled my suitcase to Parker’s room and let myself in. He was dressed in well-worn sweats from one of his old sponsors, and I recognized the hoodie as one of the ones I’d stolen from him years ago.
“Hey. How’d you get that hoodie back? I thought it was in my closet at home.”
He was sitting in a chair facing out the window to the slopes. His light hair was messy, his bare feet were propped on a small table, and his hands were tucked into the hoodie’s kangaroo pocket.
“I had them send me a few more after you stole it. I figured if you liked it that much, you might want a replacement one day. But then I wore one and realized why you liked it so much, so fuck you on getting the spares.”
We both knew he’d give me the literal clothes off his back if I wanted them. That was the kind of person Parker was. Besides, I’d been stealing his clothes for twenty years, and he’d never stopped me.
I walked over so I could look at his face. The bruise on his jaw was darker, but it was the tired eyes that stood out the most. He’d been thinking himself into a heavy state.
“Alright. Get your ass up. We’re leaving.”
“I’m just going to head home,” he said without moving.
“Nope. You’re coming with me to my cabin in Aster Valley. We’re going to get drunk, watch all the Marvel movies in order, and do some cross-country skiing. If you’re lucky, there’ll be a couple decks of cards there, and I’ll let you beat me at Spite and Malice.”
Parker stared out the window. “I hate cross-country skiing,” he muttered. “All that work and not a single moment of excitement.”
I moved to the closet and pulled out his suitcase. If he didn’t have the energy to pack himself, I’d do it for him. “Liar. You love anything that makes you sweat. Tell you what. If you come cross-country skiing with me, I’ll make you my famous lasagne.”
He swiveled his head and raised an eyebrow. “You know the pity party has reached full swing when Julian offers to tackle a multistep recipe.”
“Desperate times.” I reached for the tidy little stack of socks and underwear in his drawer and tried not to think too hard about how lucky that damned underwear was as I moved it to his suitcase.
“Make me those seven-layer bars, too, and we have a deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not in a position of power in this negotiation.”