Ten Below Zero(21)

“First of all – believe it. I don’t give a damn about anyone’s privacy. And secondly, I didn’t invade your privacy. All the details of your accident are on Google. As is your settlement information. You shouldn’t have told me your business if you didn’t want me to know.” He took the last bite of his lasagna and grabbed our plates, moving them into the sink. “Besides, I find it hard to believe you blew all that money. Your car is a junker. You aren’t superficial. You don’t dress in fancy threads. You don’t care about your appearance. If you’d spent that money, you’d have fixed that scar on your face first.”

The anger was escalating. “You are so…”

Everett looked over his shoulder. “Rude?” he prompted. He turned around to face me. “Yes. I am. I call it like I see it. And I see a girl who hides behind her hair, who doesn’t give two f*cks about her looks. You think no one notices you. You think you can sit back and watch everyone else and they don’t get to watch you. But guess what, Parker? You are hiding in plain sight. I see you. I see the parts you don’t want anyone to see.”

He stepped around the island and cornered me again. My heart started fluttering manically in my chest and I stood up on my tiptoes as he invaded my breathing space. Everett narrowed his eyes on me. “You’re ice cold. You don’t let yourself feel. You don’t care about anyone, not even yourself.” His face came to the side of mine and I gasped, the heat of his face on mine causing tiny flutters that slid across my skin. “In here,” he said, pushing on the skin above my heart, “you’re ten below zero. And you’re closer to death than I am.”

He pulled back, looked at me with a mixture of anger and sadness. And then he walked away. “You can let yourself out, right?” he called over his shoulder. I heard his steps thunder up the stairs to the second story, so I did the only thing I could do. I walked out the door.





I sat in my car, parked in front of his street for several minutes. My mind tried processing all that had happened while my heart throbbed in my chest.

This was why I didn’t connect with people, why I stood on the sidelines and stared. I didn’t want this, to own any feelings. Especially feelings that hurt. I didn’t want pain. I didn’t want any of this.

After heaving a sigh, I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. I tried again and still nothing. Everett was right about one thing: my car was a junker. It was built years before I was born, and then had been stripped and welded with parts from another car. It was a salvage title, and a huge pain in the ass at the most inconvenient times. It was one of the reasons I was annoyed all the time.

Everett was also right about something else; I had all that money. Sitting in my bank account, going nowhere. And I didn’t care about anyone, not even myself.

Thinking that caused a small prick of pain in my chest.

I tried turning the key in the ignition again. Not even the slightest noise came from the engine. I laid my head on the steering wheel, suddenly overcome with all that had happened this evening.

It pissed me off – Everett had pissed me off. Even with the scar that marred my face, people didn’t notice me. I hid in the corner, or in the shadows, observing. I didn’t live, not really. And Everett was dying. But he was more alive than I was. That’s what he had meant, when he’d said I was closer to death than he was. It was true. And that meant a lot of what Everett had said, though harsh, was true. Asshole.

It was annoying that someone who had only met me a handful of times had figured me out this quickly, had told me to my face what he’d observed. I was the observer of other people. People didn’t observe me.

So it was with that anger that I stepped out of my car and slammed the door shut.

That anger fueled my feet up the steps of his concrete walkway, up the steps to his front porch. That anger powered the knocks that my fist rapped against the door.

Everett took his sweet time coming to the door. When he opened it, he looked unsurprised to me standing on his porch. “Forget something?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Yes,” I said, stepping into his space. I put a hand on his chest and pushed him until he took a step back into his house. “You’re an *.”

“I am,” he confirmed. I was still pushing against him while he backed up into the house. Once I was fully in the house, I slammed the door shut.

And then I pounced. A breath later, I was in his arms, lips clashing against his. He supported my weight in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. I felt my back hit the wall, but I didn’t care. My senses were full, overflowing with this, with Everett.

I felt him groan into my mouth and I brought my hands up to his hair, pulling on the hairs that curled at the nape of his neck. I pulled, hard, and squeezed my legs around his waist.

“Fuck,” he growled against my lips, pulling back and slamming me against the wall again. I took a breath when he’d released my lips. I didn’t inhale much oxygen before his lips fell onto mine again. His hands wrapped around my waist and he squeezed, hard enough for me to turn my head away and gasp for air.

“What is this Parker?” he asked, pressing his forehead against mine as he blew ragged breaths across my lips.

I struggled for air, but my body was lit up like a firework, waiting to ignite. “If you have to ask, you’re an idiot.”