He got that. What was he missing?
“You’re upset about Mallory moving out of the house.” Please let her clue him in to the problem.
“She told us tonight. She’s moving in with Jase over spring break.” The tears started to return.
Colin swiveled around. He didn’t have tissue boxes close by. He was a guy; the sleeve of his shirt did in a pinch. He jumped up and rounded the sofa and into his kitchen. He grabbed a paper towel and brought it back to her.
Parker blew her nose, wadded the paper towel up, and did it a second time.
He waited until she’d gained some control before he spoke. “Parker, honey . . . I’m trying really hard to not be a clueless boyfriend here. But you’re this upset because your sister is moving out of the house?”
She nodded.
“She’s not pregnant or anything . . . right? She and Jase didn’t elope or something like that.”
Parker shook her head.
Swallowed hard.
“She’s just moving out.”
Her eyes pitched together. “I know . . . I shouldn’t be this upset.” Again with the tears.
Colin reached for her and pulled her into his shoulder. Now that he knew nothing catastrophic had happened, he started to relax.
He held her while she cried for a good ten minutes. If the day ever came that he truly understood women, he’d write a book and become a millionaire.
“It’s been a hard time for you.”
“This hit me.”
“I can see that.”
She sniffled against his shirt. “All she wants to do is live her life.”
“Yeah.”
“Jase is a nice kid.”
There was that little pot-smoking time he had in high school, but Colin thought maybe now wasn’t a good time to bring that up. Besides, he was pretty sure that was behind him. “He’ll never treat her bad. And if he does I’ll kick his ass. Family or not.”
That got a tiny chuckle out of her.
She pushed off his chest. “Why does it feel this way?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s my sister. It’s not like she’s moving to Syria or anything.”
“Does anyone move to Syria?”
“Right . . . it’s not like it’s that,” Parker said. “She isn’t joining the military or running off to war . . . or anything dangerous. She’s just moving out.” She held her chest like it hurt.
Then it hit him. “Because she isn’t only your sister. You helped raise her.”
Parker stared at him. “So what, I’m empty-nesting? I’m only twenty-six. I can’t empty-nest. I’m not old enough.”
He remembered his mother’s tears when he moved out. Never mind that he was twenty-two . . . she had cried. “It’s a state of mind and not an age, hon.”
Her lower lip still stuck out.
He had a strong urge to kiss it.
“You’ve been under a serious amount of stress. I mean, c’mon, look how excited you were about doing laundry today.”
That got a smile.
“I’m being stupid.”
In epic proportions. “No. Emotional.”
“Stupid emotional.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Damn, I love you.”
Her smile faded.
Oh, no . . . Had he said that?
“It’s not fair,” she said. “I’m going through an empty nest and you haven’t had the children you want. This is so wrong.” She tried to get up, but he gently pulled her back down.
“Okay, stop. How did you make that jump?”
“I’m not loveable. I’m a mess. Look at me.”
“I am looking at you. Loveable mess that you are.”
Her face went stone-cold. “I don’t know if I can ever give you what you want.”
He wanted to assure her it didn’t matter.
“Good thing we’re old enough and young enough to figure that out.” And the fact that she’d run to him for support was all he needed to lay hope to their future. Maybe he’d finally earned her trust.
God, he hoped so.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Mallory started spending the weekends at Jase’s apartment and called only to say she wouldn’t be home until Monday after school. The plan was for her to move out completely after the rain and flooding stopped. Parker was fairly certain her sister felt guilty for leaving in the middle of chaos.
“It doesn’t bother you?” Parker finally asked Austin.
“Nawahh. I mean, eventually I’m going to want to move out, and now that she’s pulled the Band-Aid, it won’t hurt as much when I do it.”
“You want to move out, too?”
“Hell no. I don’t want to work that hard. I’m not stupid. Someday, though.”
Parker breathed a sigh of relief.
They were watching the news on a rare Saturday night when Austin was home.
“That doesn’t look pretty,” he said, indicating the TV.
“I don’t ever remember getting this much rain in one winter.”
One of the newscasters who had interviewed Parker twice spoke from a location a good five miles from her property with the Santa Clara River behind her. “We’re expecting a one-two punch here in the southland. Officials have declared the drought over even before next week’s storms descend upon us. The valleys can expect an inch of rain on Tuesday with as much as three to five inches in the mountains and burn areas. The authorities are advising residents to stay away from known areas of flooding and to keep an eye on the weather reports throughout your area.”
“No cameo tonight?” her brother teased.
“They like to come after things get real.” She turned off the TV once Austin got up to go to bed.
“I’ll go out tomorrow and fill the gas cans for the generator and do some grocery shopping. If you need anything, put it on the list.”
“You got it.”
“Fill your bathtub. I’m not convinced the water main is going to make it.” It had been in for almost a week. She was pretty sure the next storm was going to test it.
He stopped and looked at the picture above the fireplace. “Do you ever look at this picture and feel sad?”
“All the time,” Parker said.
He turned to her. “Then why do we leave it there?”
What was up with her siblings making her want to cry? “It felt wrong to take down.”
He shrugged, in true Austin fashion. “My vote is to take it down. Maybe in ten years we can put it back up and not feel like we’re missing out.”
The back of her throat started to thicken.
“I love you, Austin.”
“Love you, too, sis.”
The wind chimes smashing against each other woke her from a dead sleep.
The clock said four a.m.
She rolled out of bed, every muscle felt the ache of the day before . . . and the day before that.
“I’m so over this!”
Her bladder called, so instead of turning her pillow to the cool side, she forced her legs out of bed and walked to the bathroom. On the way, she glanced out her bedroom window. The outdoor emergency lights were on by her driveway and over by the guesthouse.