Magnolia Parks: Into the Dark (Magnolia Parks Universe, #5)

by Jessa Hastings

Our room could be a cardboard box and I’d love it if he was in it. No, I wouldn’t, that was a lie and I was absolutely being hyperbolic, but you do see my point, yes?

You know how ballerinas pick a spot to look at when they’re doing a pirouette so they don’t get dizzy? Bridget was Magnolia’s spot on the wall.

“What are you on about?” BJ pulls a face. “You have four friends.” He shrugs to himself. “Five, if you include me—” “Which I don’t when you’ve got an attitude like the one you’re currently sporting.” I give him a look and he rolls his eyes.

He lets out my favourite laugh that feels like a cup of tea on a rainy day, and his face looks the kind of happy I always want it to with a smile that touches his eyes.

I tried not to smile because—all things considered—none of it was funny. Only that it was just like, fucking vintage Parks. And she’s always funny.

“How many loves do you get in a lifetime? That’s a question I’ve wondered before…If you ask The Sun, I’ve had far too many, and in some ways that’s true, I have. But actually, I’ve only had two great ones.”

“You’re all here to bury the smartest girl, the sharpest shooter in the whole wide world. But I’m burying my guiding light.”

I tell him, and I see it—watch my dad restrain himself from rolling his eyes—good for him. Probably pulled a muscle holding that back, kind of hope he did.

I come from a good family, everyone knows that. My parents were great, roof over my head. I never wanted for much, really, and still. She’s the only home I’ve ever been interested in having. Her body is the walls, heart’s the ceiling. I’ll live here forever.

Claire nods, thinking about Bridge. “Really quite organically wise—” Parks gives her a demure smile. “It runs in the family.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t.” That’s glare number twelve thousand from my fiancée today.

“Can we order something in, please?” I ask carefully. “Anything you want.” She nods and I pull out my phone and start scrolling through Uber over her shoulder, til I find Kensu Kitchen and wait for her to say it. Her lips are pursed, all heavy in thought. “Sushi,” she says eventually, and I kiss her on the head, smile like I didn’t already have it pulled up and ordering our favourites.

kiss her nose because it’s the best one on the planet.

I’ve loved this face all my life. It’s the sun I pray to, and if what we have is a temple, I built it with my bare hands—I nearly died trying to build this fucking thing. Built it til my hands were raw and bloodied. And I’ll die on the altar of loving her, happily too. That’s not a waste to me.

I’d be happy as Larry. Actually, as long as I’m next to her, fuck Larry, Larry’s got nothing on me.