The tears have stopped pouring from my eyes, but every inch of the wall I’d surrounded myself with has crumbled to my feet. Somehow, sitting alone in the mud, I’ve calmed down a bit, but I’m not all that excited to see how pissed off Tommy is. He hops down from his lifted pick-up truck and slams the door. The anger is visible all over his face. “What the fuck, Parker?” he screams. “I told you to leave her alone.” He makes his way over to me. I’m still in a heap in the mud and Parker is sitting at the picnic table across the way, his head in his hands. He doesn’t respond to Tommy, just continues to hang his head in shame. For some reason my heart aches, but not for myself. No, my heart aches for him. While a part of me appreciates Tommy looking out for me, the other part—the part that still loves Parker—wants him to stop berating him. But Tommy just can’t leave well enough alone. No, he needs for Parker to say something… anything. He’s not going to let him off scot-free.
