Chapter 5
Parker
My blushing, hungover bride walked onto the private plane, found a seat at the back, curled up underneath a blanket from one of the staff, and promptly fell asleep, unmoving even during takeoff. The buttery soft leather set was tempting enough for a nap, but instead, I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to get my equilibrium after the past twenty-four hours.
It felt like someone unleashed a hurricane on my life.
No, not someone.
Me . Didn’t matter that the actual marriage had been a joint decision. This was still weight that I’d have to carry on my own shoulders. A storm that I’d invited inside.
But it didn’t feel like devastation. It didn’t feel negative—all this wild shifting of the electricity in the air. I hadn’t felt like this in so long, with any sort of ferocious anticipation for what would come next.
What a wild card she was. Briefly, I opened my eyes and watched Anya sleep.
In the clear light of day, without the haze of alcohol, she was even more beautiful. High cheekbones and thick, dark eyelashes. Toned limbs and mile-long legs—even though we hadn’t measured, she had to be over six feet tall.
Yeah, close to that , I thought, remembering how it felt to look down into her face at the front of that chapel. We said simple vows, better or worse, richer or poorer, etcetera, etcetera. But it was after the vows that it all felt so terrifyingly real. I could’ve kissed her. She wanted me to.
But something held me back, a whisper of restraint as foreign to me as the anticipation. I didn’t really know where it came from, but I was really fucking thankful for it when she stripped down to nothing but lace underwear and asked me to screw her into the mattress.
Briefly, I eyed my lap because that little asshole needed to get in line. There was no time for even the slightest of hard-ons, but if anything would do it, it wasn’t even just the eleven-month dry spell.
It was her . At that moment she tore off her clothes, if the ceiling had split open and a spotlight from heaven appeared, angels singing en masse at the sight of her, I would not have been fucking surprised. I’d see Anya’s naked body on my deathbed and remember it fondly as one of the seven wonders of the natural world.
Thank God, her legs were covered because showing up at the airfield in Seattle with a boner wouldn’t help anything. For a few minutes, I sat there thinking about my fifth-grade math teacher—a horrifying woman who regularly gave me nightmares. It helped. Quickly.
One of the plane’s staff approached, setting her hand on my shoulder. “Anything for you, Mr. Wilder?”
Boom .
Mr. Wilder was my dad. Not me.
My ears rang like a bomb had just detonated, and I forced a small smile. “Please, call me Parker. And how about some Gatorade and ibuprofen for both of us, please.”
In the hotel room, Anya had found a few painkillers in her purse, and while it dulled the harsh edge of both our headaches, the pain still lingered behind my eyes. I continued to watch her sleep while I tried to remember all the things she’d told me, all the things I remembered on my own. We had a couple of weeks—less than that—to solidify this relationship enough that my family would buy it, which would simply take time.
Her dad was Aiden Hennessy—MMA champion who now owned a string of boxing gyms around Washington, most of them located in the Seattle area. There were four now if I recall. But when she helped, and she did a lot, it was always at their original location, where her dad met Anya’s stepmom, Isabel.
According to her drunken overview, Isabel was tough and smart and kind, and one of Anya’s best friends. She was eight or nine when they got married.
Ten when she became a big sister to Violet, who—in her words—was a notorious flirt who gave their parents many gray hairs. Fifteen when they added Willa into the mix. Willa, apparently, was a savage little child who was universally adored by everyone in their family, and while Anya wasn’t supposed to have a favorite, Willa was hers.
And … her years with Max were a giant fucking waste of time because he was a shit human being who didn’t deserve someone like her. The fact that he not only cheated on her—multiple times—but was also a lazy piece of shit in bed that left her questioning why he’d strayed made me want to break his fucking nose.
It wasn’t much to base a marriage on, of course. Not even a fake one. But as the plane pulled us closer to Seattle, and my gaze stayed steady on Anya’s sleeping face, I knew it would have to be enough.
There was so much in my life that I didn’t feel capable of fixing. Maybe it was that way for her too. Elements out of our control that simply couldn’t be reined in.
But doing this for both of our families was something actionable.
The flight attendant laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, alerting me that she’d returned with two cold bottles of the electrolyte drinks, and in a small dish were two packets of ibuprofen.
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “Should I wake Mrs. Wilder?”
My eyes snapped up to hers. “How did you…?”
Her smile turned apologetic. “We saw the pictures online just before you boarded. We have congratulatory champagne and some cake if that sounds good.”
If I offered champagne to Anya, she’d toss her cookies in the middle of this very nice plane.
“No, thank you,” I muttered distractedly, fumbling with my phone to type in my name. Right as the search results appeared, a text from my agent came in. I tapped on that first.
Steve: I honestly don’t even know where to start with you, Wilder. At least you picked someone with a squeaky-clean reputation. That’ll go a long way with your fans. Next time, a little heads-up would be nice.
Me: Long story, but I promise I’ll explain it.
Steve: Please, please don’t. I’m starting to get an ulcer from half the players on my roster right now.
I blew out a short breath and navigated back to the first headline, my mouth flattening into a grimace.
Parker Wilder weds MMA champ’s daughter in surprise Vegas ceremony.
“She has her own name,” I muttered before clicking on the article. Pictures. Of course there were pictures. A few fans must’ve been standing outside the chapel because there were not only pictures but also videos.
I’d swept Anya into my arms as we exited the doors onto the street, and God, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were blissfully in love.
I was smiling at her. She was smiling up at me, one hand holding her veil in place, and on her finger, the simple gold band caught the light from the flash as we walked past.
“Congrats, Parker,” someone yelled.
Anya flashed a winning smile in the direction of the camera, kicking her feet happily. “We just got married,” she shouted. There were whoops and hollers and some congratulations and Go Voyagers in the background.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of what we’d done for the first time all morning. A buzz signaled an incoming text, and I inhaled slowly.
Emmett Ward: You married Anya.
Me: Is there a question buried in there, or do you suck at using punctuation?
Emmett Ward: YOU MARRIED ANYA? What the hell is going on??
Me: Remember when I risked my ass to help you with a chance with my sister? This is me calling in my payback. Quit text yelling at me, and I’ll talk to you soon.
Emmett Ward: Adaline is giddy about this. She screamed. Loudly. I was less enthusiastic.
Me: Good. Great. You know, I’ve had two of my teammates end up with a sister at this point, and I don’t want to hear another fucking word unless it’s HEY MAN, congrats on the nuptials.
My phone buzzed again and the sight of my sister Greer’s name caused my stomach to drop down to my feet.
Greer: Oh baby brother, you’ve got some ’splaining to do. Mom is going to lose her mind.
Me: I planned on calling her later.
Greer: I’ll try to keep her from seeing it, but that woman is sneaky.
Me: Ask her to babysit Olive. She’ll be too busy to go online.
Greer: The things I do for my brothers, I swear…
Me: Don’t even act like we’ve never had to hide shit for you. Remember when you broke that window at Dad’s shop in high school? I never told a soul it was you. Everyone was convinced it was Cameron.
Greer: Not even remotely the same. You woke up with a hot wife from sports royalty, buddy, and last I checked, your ass can hardly keep a plant alive. Good luck with this one.
The next one came from my youngest sister, Poppy.
Poppy: OMG WHAT HOW WHO WHY WHO?
Me: You’re too pregnant to get this worked up. I’ll answer all your questions later.
Poppy: Does Mom know?
Me: NO. I’m calling her later. Greer promised to distract her.
Poppy: I’ll fake some labor pains. That should do it.
Me: Dear God, please don’t.
Buzz. Buzz.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered. The brothers finally heard the news.
Cameron: Congratulations on marrying a stranger we don’t know and have never heard you speak of even a single time.
Cameron: Does Sheila know?
Ian: If Sheila knew, we’d hear the supersonic boom of her excited scream. Congrats, bro. Hope she can handle your mopey ass well enough.
Me: No, Sheila doesn’t know. I’m calling her later. Greer is on distraction duty.
Ian: Oh GREAT. Who knows what the hell she’s gonna do. You can’t give her important jobs like that.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, not realizing Anya had woken up until I dropped my hand in my lap. Her eyes were sharp and clear, focused right on me.
“Marital regrets?” she asked lightly, sitting up in the seat and folding her long legs up against her chest.
“Not yet.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“You might want to check your phone.”
Anya dug into her purse and pulled it out, her face losing color as she scrolled.
“Shit,” she breathed. “Emmett tried to call me four times.” Her eyes pinched shut. “So did Isabel. What happened?”
I arched an eyebrow, handing her the phone across the small table. Her eyes widened when she saw the articles.
“Awesome. Excellent.”
“Think your parents would see something like that before we can tell them?”
Her gaze snapped up to mine, and once again, the vivid blue knocked the breath from my lungs just a little. “Oh, fuck a duck,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Violet. She has a news alert on my name.” Anya dropped her head in her hands. “I’m screwed.”
There was yelling coming from the other room, Aiden’s deep voice the only one I could discern between him and Anya and Isabel. I sat on the couch in the family room with a glass of water in my hand, taking a self-conscious sip while I tried to decipher what was being said.
Violet, as Anya predicted, had seen the articles. She’d also, as expected, broke the news to Aiden and Isabel Hennessy just before the car dropped us off at their gorgeous home tucked back in the trees on Mercer Island.
It took a lot for someone to truly intimidate me, but the sight of Aiden Hennessy standing by his front door, a gently lined face and his temples peppered with gray, did the fucking trick. I felt my stomach drop into my feet at the look on his face. With massive arms crossed over a broad chest and his eyes locked on mine as I held the door open for Anya, I swear my balls shriveled up to the size of a dime.
“He won’t hurt you,” Anya promised me, clearly sensing my pause before we approached the house. It was nice of her to say, but it also felt like utter bullshit because I was fairly certain if looks could kill, I would’ve been dead the moment I exited the car.
Aiden must have heard her because he merely raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, gingersnap.”
Behind him was his wife, tall and striking, with long dark hair and deep blue eyes, watching me with a touch less open hostility but far more worry. “Come inside, you two. Anya, we need a word.”
Anya turned to me. “Do you mind letting me talk to them?”
I pushed my tongue into my cheek and shook my head. “Not sure your dad wants me in that room anyway.”
She still hadn’t regained the color in her face that she lost on the plane. In fact, my wife sorta looked like she might pass the fuck out.
“You okay?” I asked her quietly, my hand hovering at the small of her back.
In her hand, she gripped the Gatorade. “I think so.”
Isabel watched us approach, her eyes shifting between her stepdaughter’s face and my own. God, it felt like being watched by a watchdog, ready to rip my throat out if I moved wrong.
I’d never given a whole lot of thought to meeting my future in-laws, mainly because I never intended to get married. But if I had, I likely wouldn’t have been excluded from their entire conversation about why we’d gotten married in the first place.
I stared down at the ring on my hand, spinning it absently. It was a little too big. I’d need to take it off for practice. In the beginning, I’d only been focused on football. Relationships, especially serious ones, weren’t even on my radar. Marriage could come later. Much later. Or at least that was what I used to think.
Except it never came. And when my dad got sick, I didn’t want it to come. The thought of finding someone, anyone, felt like a dark, crawling fear that I didn’t really want to see realized.
In the possibility of a relationship, all I could see now was Sheila picking the suit my dad would be buried in. Choosing his headstone. Deciding on a coffin.
No fucking thank you.
But now I found myself with a ring on my finger and a wife and in-laws and a great, big story I was going to try to sell in hopes that all of this wouldn’t be a giant waste.
From the corner of the room, I heard the squeak of a shoe on the wood floor. Dark, tangled hair and one blue eye like her mother’s popped around the corner.
I smiled. “You must be Willa.”
Her whole face appeared, and even though her coloring wasn’t anything like Anya’s, I saw a hint of her older sister in the shape of her mouth and the straight line of her nose.
In Willa’s arms was the fattest orange cat I’d ever seen in my life. She hefted him up as she wandered into the room, his tail swishing lazily over the arm she used to support his considerable girth.
“This is Spike,” she stated. “He’s Anya’s cat, so you’re gonna have to take him with you.”
She turned slightly, revealing a very disgruntled face and one arm slung awkwardly over her shoulder. I tilted my head. “Is he missing one of his front legs?”
“Yeah,” Willa sighed, plopping on the floor and rearranging the cat’s body in her lap. His bright golden eyes locked with mine, his ears flattened, and he let out a low hiss of warning. Willa patted him on the head. “She’s fostered him for a year. No one wanted him because he’s fat and mean and only has three legs, so she decided to keep him. My dad calls him the devil cat.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he does.” I eyed the beast warily. “You’re not afraid of him?”
Willa shook her head, tangled braid whipping over her shoulder to whack the cat in the head. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she pronounced firmly. “Mom says my lack of fear is”—she paused to narrow her eyes—“terrifying as hell.”
My brows furrowed. “She said that to you?”
“No.” Willa lowered her face, and the cat bumped his forehead against hers. “But I hear lots of things I’m not supposed to.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Like you married Anya and kept it a secret, and everyone is really mad.”
I sat up. “That’s not what?—”
“My dad will probably beat you up,” she announced, eyes wide and innocent. “He’s very strong.”
Nervously, I glanced at the door, where the low hum of voices had calmed down a bit. “He said he was going to beat me up?”
“No. But when he gets mad, there’s this line on his face right here.” She tapped her own forehead and tried to look up, crossing her eyes in the process. “It gets really big.”
“That’s great.” I rubbed a hand over my neck. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Willa. Even if I’m about to get my ass kicked.”
She giggled. “You could always fight him back. You look strong.”
“I don’t do that kind of fighting in my job. Pretty sure he’d have me in a sleeper hold before I could blink.”
Her brows furrowed briefly. “He’d probably just punch you first. Keep your fists up by your temples, arms tucked in, and don’t let him elbow you in the face.” Then she shrugged. “You’ll do okay as long as he doesn’t get to your kidneys.”
I laid my head back on the couch and tried to steady my breathing. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Maybe you could show me a few things.”
“Okay!”
I lifted my head and blinked. She’d shoved the cat off her lap and stood in the middle of the room, one foot in front of the other and her fists up like she’d told me. “Come on, we don’t have much time.” Willa motioned hurriedly. “Do you know how to throw a punch? I’m really strong. I punched a kid the last week of school because he was mean to everyone, and I gave him a nosebleed.” At my raised eyebrows, she sighed, arms dropping slightly. “They suspended me for one day, but it was totally worth it. Mom said I can’t make a habit out of it, but she still let me get ice cream on the way home.”
A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. “You’d get along with my sister Greer.”
Her eyes lit up. “Does she punch people too?”
“Only in her deepest fantasies,” I answered gravely.
“Cool,” Willa breathed. “My dad put me in soccer because he thought a sport where I can’t tackle people would be good for me, but I kept knocking people over anyway.”
“They generally frown upon that, yeah. How come you kept doing it?”
“Well, I don’t want to lose.” She shrugged. “Don’t you ever break the rules when you play football?”
I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. “Sometimes. Every now and then, we have to take a calculated risk. Do you know what that means?”
Willa chewed on her bottom lip, then eventually shook her head.
“It means you know there might be a negative consequence, but the result still makes it worth it. You punched that kid, knowing you might get in trouble at school, right?”
Her eyes got this scary little gleam, and she nodded.
“Was he mean after that?”
“Nope. He ran away and cried when I tried to apologize the next time I was at school.”
I spread my arms out. “See? Calculated risk, and it paid off. Sometimes in football, you commit a penalty knowing it might draw a flag, but it’ll also disrupt the momentum.”
“Was marrying Anya a calculated risk?” she asked, eyes big and clear and absolutely gut-wrenching.
How old was this kid?
From where he lay on the floor, Spike stared me down, the feline equivalent of a lie detector test, his tail flicking back and forth. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I guess maybe it was.”
The door to the other room opened before Willa could say anything else, and when Isabel exited first, the little girl scooped up the cat and ran toward her mom. “I was gonna teach him how to punch in case Dad wanted to beat him up.”
Isabel closed her eyes briefly, exhaling a brief laugh. When she opened them again, she gave me an apologetic smile. “My husband promised there’d be no violence today.”
I nodded. “Appreciate that.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not watching how this plays out. We all are,” she said lightly. “And when I tell you that Anya has a veritable army who’d be willing to destroy anyone who hurts her, I mean it.”
My chin notched up. “And was that army deployed when Max cheated on her?”
She quirked a dark eyebrow. “Why do you think he got traded from Washington within a day of the story breaking?” Her bone-chilling smile looked a whole helluva lot like her daughter. “Between my brother Logan as his coach and Emmett as his quarterback, that man wouldn’t have lasted a week at training camp. Thankfully, he was open to a trade with minimal persuasion.”
“Fair enough.” I held her gaze. “I have no intention of using Anya, and I certainly won’t hurt her. She’s safe with me, I promise.”
There was something about the way Isabel stared me down, like she’d stripped away all pretense, cut through all bullshit, and could see straight into my fucking soul. She and Spike made for a very effective team. “I’m glad to hear that.”
With a stilted smile, I stood and held up my water glass. “Where should I put this? I think I’m done.”
She reached forward and took it. “They’ll be out in a second. Just needed a father-daughter moment.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Isabel disappeared into the kitchen to take care of the water glass, then returned, her arms crossed and face thoughtful. “Willa, why don’t you take the cat back to Anya’s room? She’s gonna need help packing up his things.”
“So the demon cat is…”
“Coming with you,” Isabel finished with a smile. “My husband insists.”
“I’m sure he does,” I muttered.
When Willa and the cat left the room, Isabel took a small step closer. “I love your sister, Adaline. She’s made Emmett very happy. And in turn, that makes the rest of us very happy. I know you come from a good family,” she said, only the slightest pause after she spoke, which was why I heard the unspoken but .
I arched my eyebrow. “But don’t fuck this up,” I finished for her. Her smile was the only hint that I was right. “I have no plans to. There are enough people in my life who would kick my ass if I did.”
Isabel eyed me with a begrudging look of respect.
“I’m sorry about your father, by the way,” she said. “It sounds like he was an amazing man.”
Boom .
The breath caught in my throat, and my lungs swamped with heat. I breathed it out slowly and nodded. “Thank you. He was.”
Was.
I fucking hated answering those questions in the past tense. I couldn’t say he is a good man . He is a good father .
He was one. But he wasn’t anymore.
“Grief can make people do crazy things. And we grieve all sorts of things, don’t we? Jobs. Our health. Relationships,” she said pointedly. “We grieve people most of all. That comes out in strange ways. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
Anya had been such a good distraction, but the emptiness crawled back into my chest as she spoke, and I wanted to clap my hands over my ears to tune her out. “I’ve heard that,” I said evenly, only the slightest edge to my voice.
Her eyes sharpened, and I cursed myself for allowing that to slip.
Anya entered the living room first, her dad following her. Above his daughter’s head, he gave me a long, steady, terrifying look. Anya rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm. “Stop it. You promised.”
Aiden let out a slow breath and relaxed the clear tension in his jaw. “I can’t say I understand any of this,” he managed in a deep voice. “But I’ve seen my daughter hurt enough recently. If you’re added to that list, you and I will have a problem. I don’t care who you’re related to or how much Emmett vouches for you, do you understand?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
It wasn’t much, but based on the look in his eyes, it was enough.
For now.
Anya glanced in my direction and didn’t smile, but she looked determined.
That was enough for now, too.
Aiden looked at his daughter, resignation stamped on his features. “You’re taking the fucking cat, right?”