A Beautiful Lie (Playing with Fire #1)(11)

But now, standing there watching his best friend's eyes fill with tears, would be the one thing that broke him.





Chapter Three



"I'm going to the Dominican Republic. I leave tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred."

Parker fought down the wave of nausea threatening to empty her stomach of the evening's dinner.

"Why the hell would you ever go there?" Parker asked angrily.

Garrett sighed and looked down at his shoes. It was bad if he wouldn't look her in the eyes. Garrett knew she could read him like a book and that she would see everything he was feeling.

"It wasn't an accident," Garrett said quietly, his eyes suddenly fascinated by a rock on the ground.

Parker knew exactly what Garrett was talking about; there was no need to question him. Part of her wasn't shocked by what he said. She wasn't stupid. She knew there were military cover-ups all the time. Milo had gotten increasingly distant and short with her in the months leading up to his departure to the Dominican. He spent most of his time at home locked in his office or taking phone calls on his cell at all hours of the night. He snapped at her when she questioned the change in him, and they fought constantly about what he was keeping from her. The biggest fight they ever had in eight years occurred the morning after he told her he was leaving. Parker had been cleaning the house and picked up a fax that had just come in over the machine in his office. Milo came up behind her, smacked it out of her hand, and shoved her against the bookshelf, screaming at her, telling her she had no business looking at his things.

She knew all too well his job involved confidential information she wasn't privy to. They were more alike in that manner than anyone knew. But when it started trickling into their home life, and he got violent with her, it became a problem.

When Milo walked out the door the morning of his flight after repeatedly apologizing to her for his earlier outburst, Parker fought the overwhelming fear that she might never see him again. She chalked it up to nerves about him being so far away this close to their wedding and how things just hadn't been right between them lately. But each day he was gone, the feelings grew until she couldn't stand to be in her own skin anymore. Something didn't feel right, and the one and only time she talked to him on the phone after he left, he sounded scared.

Parker accepted the news of Milo's "accidental death" because she had to. She had to plan a funeral, pack up his belongings, cancel wedding plans, and try to keep it together so she could function and work. She didn't have time to dwell on conspiracy theories. Garrett never questioned Milo's death, so Parker didn't either. She trusted Garrett to always be honest with her, especially after Milo’s death.



“How are you holding up, Park?” Garrett had asked, inadvertently using Milo’s nickname for her as he walked into an empty viewing room at the funeral home where Parker had sneaked away to for some peace and quiet.

Parker felt like the walls were closing in on her, and she couldn’t handle one more insincere apology or condolence from someone she didn’t even know.

All of the hugs from strangers, the pats on the back, and the looks of pity made her want to scream or punch something. As soon as those feelings started to bubble up inside of her, she knew she needed to get out of that room and away from the closed casket that held her fiancé.

“Why in the hell do people send flowers when someone dies? I mean really, who do they think they’re doing it for? Milo’s never going to appreciate them, and obviously these people never had anyone close to them die before. If they did, they would know that the smell of flowers will always make the people left behind think of death from now on. Every time I smell a carnation I get the chills.”

Parker couldn’t stop the word vomit even if she wanted to. When she was nervous or upset, she talked. A lot. She felt Garrett walk up behind her, and when he placed his warm, gentle hands on her shoulders and started kneading the stress away, she forgot what she had been complaining about and lost herself in his touch. Her tattered heart skipped a beat when Garrett’s fingers grazed the bare skin of her collarbone in the black, scoop-necked dress she wore. Garrett bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from sighing at the feel of Parker’s smooth, soft skin and the way she leaned back into his touch as if trying to get as close to him as possible.

They stood there for several long minutes. Parker stared out the window at the overflowing parking lot of people who came to pay their respects, and Garrett patiently waited until she was ready to talk again. He had done nothing but worry about Parker since she called him four days ago and told him his best friend was gone. It was easier to be concerned with Parker’s well-being than to dwell on what was going on inside of him.

Parker had been running on all cylinders the past couple of days, and Garrett feared that she was going to break at any moment. She was carrying too much around inside that head of hers, but no matter how many times he asked her to talk to him, she wouldn’t do it. His friend was strong and she would never let him see just how much she was hurting. But he knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to talk. He knew he was driving her crazy by hovering over her night and day, but he wanted to be there when she needed him. And to be honest, it gave him something else to think about rather than wallow in his own sadness.

“Do you really believe it was an accident?” Parker asked, breaking the silence with her quiet question.