Chapter 31
Parker
“You’re at my house,” I said, struck dumb by the sight of Sheila at my front door.
She smiled. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Yeah, on the phone.” I ushered her in, shaking my head as she set her purse and keys on the table near the door.
“I was at Greer’s,” she explained. “Not that far of a drive. The last time you said you needed to talk to me, you’d gotten married, so I figured this might warrant face-to-face.” She patted my arm as she walked past. “Don’t worry, I’m going home tonight. Just decided it was worth the extra time in the car to see you.”
Great. Now I’d have to look her in the eye when I told her I’d lied my ass off about the entire thing. She’d already moved into the house in search of Leo, exclaiming when she found him in the family room. “I think you’ve gotten bigger, young man.”
I swiped a hand over my face. “You saw him last weekend, Mom.”
She held Leo up on her lap, his legs dangling over her thighs, and she laughed at whatever expression was on his face. “Adaline told me about Anya’s stepmom. Poor thing. How long will she be in Seattle to help?”
“How the hell does news travel so fast in this family?”
She laughed. “Your sisters actually tell me what’s going on in their lives. Imagine that.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t really muster an argument. Given what I was about to say, she might wish I went back to keeping all my shit to myself.
“About that,” I said slowly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Sheila looked over at me curiously, turning Leo so he was facing me. He chewed on his fist, spit bubbles coating his fingers. “What is it, honey?”
I chose a seat next to her on the couch and let out a deep breath. Her face stayed even as I told her about Anya, and why we’d decided to get married. The real reason. I spared her any details after that first day, holding my breath while I waited for tears, or disappointment or a lecture.
Instead, she smiled.
My brow furrowed. “What?”
“I love that you think I didn’t know.”
My mouth fell open. “You … what?”
She reached over and patted my hand. “Oh honey, you have never been able to lie all that well, and I’ve lived through enough of your sibling’s bullshit that I am entirely immune by this point in my life.”
“You knew?” Understanding hit like a fist, right on my fucking jaw. “The cake. The kiss. No extra blanket in the room. Mom . You planned all of that?”
“Well, sometimes you kids need a little encouragement to get where you need to go.” She sniffed, her face completely unapologetic. “And don’t you try to peddle some story about how you don’t feel anything for that girl because you do, and I’ll die on that hill.”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified right now,” I told her, leaning back in the chair to study her with renewed interest.
“Just remember it the next time you want to lie to me. That’s all.”
She gave me an innocent smile. Right. Terrified was the only logical choice.
Milicent stared at me from across her desk, and I shifted in my chair. Someone in the government should put her in charge of interrogation because a bead of sweat rolled down my back the longer she sat there, staring at me with those unblinking eyes.
I was ready to share any and all information just to make it stop. I’d hand her my fucking bank account info if it meant getting out of her office faster.
“Are you going to say something? Because you’re really freaking me out.”
After a long moment, she finally arched an eyebrow. “I think you’re full of shit.”
I sighed. “There are a few people who’d agree with you, but in this circumstance, I can assure you I’m not.”
Her mouth fell open. “I just … I don’t believe you. I was there . I watched you two.”
“Yeah, well, we were really good actors.”
Milicent crossed her arms. “No.”
“It’s … it’s not really a yes or no question,” I hedged.
She jabbed a finger in the air. “No one fakes chemistry like that. I have been around enough athletes in my life, and you’re usually shit at lying when you want someone.”
Somehow, I knew this would be worse than telling my family. Much, much worse.
“Milicent, it doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not. We got sick of lying to our families, and she went back home. It’s … it’s over.”
“And they know now?”
I nodded. “My mom does, at least. I haven’t made a point to call my sisters because they exhaust me to my core, and I have a feeling my mom’s punishing me by forcing me to do it. If that’s the case, she’s going to have to wait a little bit because I just don’t have it in me right now.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I almost cupped my hands between my legs, just in case something heavy on her desk went flying. “So tell your families the truth whenever you feel ready,” she said smoothly. “It’s not a good idea to make this part of official messaging. We’ll start with the kid once we get through the preseason because you’ll have some legal paperwork by that time.”
“Leo,” I interjected. “He has a name.”
“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the surface of her desk. “And who’s on babysitting duty with her gone?”
“Anya wasn’t the babysitter,” I ground out. “But my housekeeper was able to help. She’s narrowing down some nanny candidates this week.”
Milicent hummed. “It makes sense that Anya is helping her family right now with her mom’s injury, so just … keep your mouth shut to reporters and don’t go boinking someone else in public.”
“I wouldn’t.”
At my affronted tone, she rolled her eyes. “You married her in Vegas after one night of drinking, so forgive me for thinking you’d have a quick rebound rate.”
The thought of rebounding from anything made my stomach pitch uncomfortably. Even waking up without her in the house, having my coffee, eating breakfast, and going to bed knowing she wasn’t there all felt wrong.
“I won’t,” I ground out.
Her eyes held a scary, satisfied gleam. “Good. I liked her.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, everyone did.”
“So did you,” she pointed out. “In case you forgot.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. I hadn’t forgotten, but it was awfully kind of her to remind me.
Her face actually softened, just for a moment. “You’re juggling a lot, Parker. It might be good to talk about this with someone.”
It felt like a splinter had wedged itself in my lungs, causing discomfort with every breath. That splinter had a name, of course. But saying it … thinking it, hurt just a little too much.
I left her office without a word and tried to ignore that it was there at all.
The first time I showed up at Dr. Alex’s door—four days after Anya went back to Seattle—I couldn’t bring myself to knock for a solid five minutes.
It wasn’t like he would say anything I didn’t already know.
I was too hard on myself. No shit.
Everyone made mistakes. Fucking got it.
Failure was the greatest teacher. Yeah, so I’ve heard . Couldn’t we find a different one?
Same old shit I’d seen on locker room posters my entire life.
I pinched my eyes shut, thinking about unburdening myself. About asking for help in this. About why I’d felt the need to lie, why that was easier than opening up to my family. About why it was so hard to wake up and know she was gone.
Why the house felt so empty without her there.
Most days, it felt like I’d barricaded myself behind a brick wall, and it wasn’t until Anya, until Leo, that those bricks started crumbling. I’d put them there. Each one set in a thick sludge that bound them together, the culmination of all my choices day in and day out for almost two years.
It was easier, sometimes, to stay in the dark behind that wall. Easier than trying to explain it, at least.
I’d halfway talked myself out of going when he opened it himself and peered out at me with an understanding expression on his face.
“You gonna come in at some point?”
My jaw tightened. “Not sure.”
He studied my face, then nodded. “Okay.”
Then he disappeared.
After another few minutes, I thought about what I’d told Anya. That Leo would learn from watching me.
I swiped a hand over my face, pushed off the wall, and walked into the office.
Leo was pissed at life.
He didn’t want his toys. Didn’t want his pacifier. He’d just been fed, and he wasn’t ready for sleep.
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Louise asked, hovering by the front door.
“I can handle it,” I told her. “Thank you, though.”
She gave me a small smile as his cries ratcheted up. “Good luck.”
Blowing out a slow breath, I tried bouncing him in my arms, making the little clicking sounds he liked, and that did nothing except make him hit a pitch that the dogs two streets over could probably hear.
“Okay, never mind,” I said.
I tried singing to him, and he briefly stopped, hiccuping around his tears as I gently rocked him back and forth. But the moment the song was over, the crying began again.
I shifted him up to my shoulder and rubbed soothing circles on his back while I made quiet shushing sounds. That didn’t help either.
Eventually, he tired himself out, his fist laying on my chest and his forehead pressed against the side of my neck. Every once in a while, he’d sniffle a little, like he’d forgotten that he was mad about something. That there was something he wanted that I couldn’t give him.
I could understand that.
Each night, I lay in bed and wondered if that was the day I’d stop feeling her absence. Each night, I was proved wrong.
“I know, buddy,” I said quietly, kissing him on the side of the head. “I miss her too.”
The morning of the first preseason game, I found myself in Doc’s office, flipping through one of the Calvin and Hobbes comics he loved so damn much. Life lessons in an innocuous package were far easier to apply, he’d said. Like taking your vitamins when they tasted like candy.
He never pressed too hard when I wasn’t ready to talk, and considering I’d come to his office about three times a week since Anya went back to Seattle, he was getting very good at reading me. It hit me that morning that she’d been gone longer than we were together, and I hadn’t felt right since.
He must have seen in my face that we weren’t diving too deeply.
“You feel ready to play?”
I pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah. No one needs me to be perfect, but they do need me to show up.”
“Exactly.” He tapped his temple. “More often than not, the biggest struggle we face is the one that takes place up here. No one can fight it for you, but you’re taking all the right steps, Parker.”
I smoothed my hands up and down my thighs. “I’m trying.”
“You’re doing great. You should be very proud of yourself,” he told me, and the paternal tone hit something inside me. It was impossible to deny that part of me would always crave that.
I was learning that I didn’t need it to move forward. You could feel the absence of something, miss it like a limb, and still not get stuck in the past. Guilt and shame and fear, they were all just feelings. Just because they were uncomfortable didn’t mean we should try to block them out.
Instead, I could learn from what they were telling me. Inform my choices moving forward.
“Thank you.” I stood and extended my hand.
Dr. Alex clasped it firmly and shook. Before he released it, he tapped a finger to my temple. “Play it out in here before the whistle blows. You know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, sir.”
So I did just that. I slid my headphones on my ears and made my way down to the field. It was empty save for some custodial staff in the stands. I sat in the end zone, my back against the goalpost, and closed my eyes.
Play it out in your mind. See the thing you want to happen.
Each snap. Each throw. Each run. Each win. Each step closer to the thing we all wanted.
My heart rate slowed, my body relaxed. The longer I imagined it, the easier it became. I didn’t see myself making mistakes, didn’t replay what went wrong. It was the best possible version of everything that might happen, which was why I couldn’t stop what came next.
The game was over. The celebrations had begun. A trophy being passed around.
Confetti in the air, blue and green and white.
Leo in my arms.
Anya by my side.
I pried my eyes open and stared down the green expanse in front of me, the vision fading as I pulled myself back to the present, a lingering ache in the area around my heart at how badly I wanted that. Would she, if I asked?
There was no point in pretending anymore that I didn’t.
Instead of berating myself for how badly I still missed her, I let myself sit for another few minutes and settle into a bit. Live in the tension of that feeling: something Dr. Alex told me.
The thought of losing someone—even if it wasn’t to death—would always touch a bruise for me. It didn’t matter if it was a year from now, ten or twenty. Was I capable of living the rest of my life, just me and my son, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to poke that bruise every day?
Capable, yes.
I didn’t want to just be capable of managing my life. I didn’t want to just exist in it. Not anymore. When I closed my eyes, there was one best outcome for my son and me, and it was her.
It might take days or weeks or months to rebuild a better, stronger foundation than the one we’d started with. And I could wait for that. Could wait if she needed time.
The utter rightness of it was intoxicating, and I found myself smiling as I leaned my head back against the goalpost. It was a little bit more than two hours before game time, and they’d be opening the doors soon.
With my body loose and my mind centered, I walked back to the locker room to get ready.