Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
PARKER
The hotel room smells like detergent and stale air conditioning. The same recycled air. Everything about it is temporary. Just like the feeling sitting in my chest.
I toss my duffel bag onto the bench, at the foot of the bed and run both hands through my hair, pacing once across the room before I realize I’m doing it.
Concentrating on tomorrow’s game should be simple. Stick to my routine.
Team dinner.
Sleep.
Shower.
Team breakfast.
Meet with Matt.
Game.
Catch the damn ball.
But my brain won’t stay there. It keeps drifting back to her—Anna, Annika, whatever version she wants me to see.
Does it matter? I can feel myself falling for the first time since sophomore year of college.
Have I had sex with women? Sure. But none that I want to talk with for hours about everything and nothing.
Her love for watermelon juice. She despises big box stores and misses her small town in Novadia where the streets are filled with independently owned boutiques, cafés and bookstores.
We haven’t seen each other in a few days, but we talk daily. I haven’t told her about the picture that Witt found or the article. He’s still digging. I just can’t help but think there’s more to this than what she’s telling me.
Maybe being cheated on turned me into a skeptical, cynical asshole but it’s a feeling I can’t shake.
When I head down to the team dinner, I see Witt reading something. He seems invested, even smiling which isn’t Witt. He rarely smiles unless he’s being proven right. Witt observes, analyzes and computes the odds of anything and everything. Then he decides if it’s worth engaging.
Right now?
He’s fully engaged. Locked in.
“What are you reading?” I ask, grabbing at it like any older brother.
He jerks it away and doesn’t answer at first. Just folds the paper and slips into his coat pocket like he completely forgot I was standing there.
That’s when I know. “What was that?” I press.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
He sighs like I’m an inconvenience, not the one acting suspicious. What is it with notes? Anna’s getting notes. Witt’s getting letters.
Then he reaches into a different pocket and pulls out a roll of documents. He lets it open and slides them across the table as I sit.
“Different version,” he says.
I frown, “Of what?”
“Information.”
Why does he have to be so dry? I flip through it.
Legal formatting.
Translated text.
Dates.
Charges.
I get a pain in my gut. “Witt….”
“Trial records from Novadia,” he says leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone to see except me.
Everything in me goes still.
Annika.
My jaw flexes as I scan a few lines before slamming the stack shut.
“She didn’t tell me this.”
“Did you ask?”
His personality simplifies everything. It’s all black or white.
“I thought I did, but I told her she didn’t have to tell me everything all at once. Just what she felt comfortable sharing. But we’ve gotten closer since then and she hasn’t…”
“How close? Sutton said she went to margarita night with them.”
“Close. The closest I’ve been with a woman since Michelle and Cantor betrayed me. I thought I was being respectful but maybe I just didn’t want to hear it because I didn’t want to know.”
Witt studies me for a second and tilts his head. “You’ve crossed professional boundaries?”
I nod and push the papers back to him. “I don’t want to read anymore.”
“Then how do you want to learn about it?”
“From her. I need to hear the truth about what happened from her.”
“That answer surprises both of us.” Witt’s mouth twitches enough for me to notice. “That’s risky.”
“I don’t need a risk assessment analysis. This is my heart, not a stock trade.”
“Okay but there’s more.”
I let out a deep sigh, “There always is.”
He taps the stack against the table and slides it back inside his coat pocket. Silence settles between us, then I scrub the scruff on my jaw. “I need to talk to Dad.”
“About her?”
“About all of it.”
He nods slowly like he understands. Dad doesn’t meddle in our business, not much anyway, but when we ask for advice or need an ear, he’s there.
Witt knows I’m already in deep with her and I can tell he’s concerned. He doesn’t even know about the letter she received.
Witt leaves and I eat dinner with Jaylen, Greyson and Frank Cozen, who’s been with Greyson throughout his career except for his first year with the Armadillos. And Sutton made a trade for Cozen to protect Greyson’s blindside.
I move the food around on my plate, taking a few bites.
Greyson asks, “Are you worried about catching the ball?”
“I wasn’t until you mentioned it.”
He smirks, “Then it’s the girl.”
“What girl?” I pretend not to know who he’s talking about.
Jaylen cuts in, “That cute performance coach with the hips a man wants to hold onto.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Yeah, Sutton said she’s smitten with you.”
Smitten. Who uses smitten? Greyson when he’s teasing.
I shake my head. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.”
They’re laughing as I scoot my chair back and head out of the ballroom where our dinner was set up.
I ride the elevator up and I can’t help but think I’m falling for someone who changed her name. I use my key card to open the door and head straight to my luggage, taking off my dress pants and button down and pulling on shorts when my phone lights up.
It’s Anna.
“Hey.”
There’s a soft pause. Then her voice, quieter than usual. “Hi.”
I’m not sure how my chest loosens and tightens at the same time, but it does.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says a little too quickly. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”
A simple acknowledgement shouldn’t send warmth rushing through me, but it does.
“I’m here.”
I lie on the bed and listen to her breathe. I don’t know if I should talk since she wanted to hear my voice or just be patient and wait for her to speak.
Her breath weighs heavy on the speaker after clamming up. “I’ve been thinking about what I told you.”
My grip on the phone tightens. Is this when she tells me everything so I don’t have to read it in the research from Witt?
“Okay.”
“I didn’t tell you everything.”
She’s going to open up. See Witt. I don’t need to stalk her.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” she cuts in. “You keep saying that.”
I do. Because I don’t want to push her. I don’t want to be the guy who makes her relive something she clearly doesn’t want to.
The other part of me wants to know the things that make her sad, what makes her happy and what makes her cry.
“I need to tell you. I want to,” she adds, her voice hushed.
I sit up and move to the edge of the mattress. “Then tell me. No judgments.”
She exhales. “You know the note you read?” She swallows. “Well, I got my first note my senior year at Lehigh.”
“What did it say?”
“Enough.”
There’s that word I hate. I wasn’t enough for Michelle. Not enough to be as great as my brothers.
“It mentioned things no one should have known,” she continues. “Things I hadn’t told anyone. Which is why I didn’t take the scholarship to Michigan.”
“And that’s when you moved to Texas?”
“Yes.”
“And you never found who sent the letter?”
“No… I just ran.”
I drag a hand over my face. “Anna…”
“Don’t,” she interrupts.
“What?”
“Don’t get all serious on me.”
“Why not? This is serious enough for you to change your name.” I shake my head.
“Because I don’t want to feel like I’m a problem tonight.”
“Problem? You’re not a problem.”
“Then stop trying to solve me.”
I lean over, dropping my head between my knees. “Okay.”
Honestly, figuring Annika out is exhausting. It’s a thousand times worse than my yips.
After a quiet beat, her tone shifts. Lighter, seductive.
“So… what are you wearing?”
I huff and feel the corners of my mouth tug upwards. “You’re deflecting.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe I just miss you.”
Something flutters inside my chest. Admitting she misses me is progress. For her. For our relationship.
“Anna…”
“Tell me what you’re wearing,” she presses.
I close my eyes for a short moment. “Gym shorts.”
“No shirt?”
“No.”
A soft inhale, “Good.”
Yeah, she’s definitely deflecting, but I let her, not wanting to push her away. It’s selfish of me, but I love this version of her—easy and warm.
Mine.
“Wish I was there,” she murmurs.
“Me too.” It gives me an idea. I hit the video call button as I lean against the headboard.
She switches and her face now fills the screen.
“Now we can see each other.”
“I look terrible.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
She blushes at my words and it burns as if every nerve in my body is on fire.
“Shut your eyes and do what I say.”
“I’m not shutting my eyes when I can look at your body,” she says.
Of course, I knew I would get some push back, but once we start, she’ll want more.
I whisper, “I want to see you get yourself off. Take off the tank top.” She hesitates. “Now Anna. Set the phone where I can see you.”
She slips off her tank slow and seductive. Her nipples point a bit upward. “Massage your breasts. Take your time.”
Short breaths come from her throat as she fondles herself.
“God, you’re beautiful with your nipples, hard and drawn up. Pinch them like I do.”
“Umm.”
“That’s right babe. Shut your eyes and think about me.”
Fuck, I look down and my dick is standing at full attention. I need to see the rest of her.
“Sit the phone up on a pillow, spread your legs and work your clit.”
She does and I reach into my shorts working myself in long languid strokes. I’m going to cum from just watching her. “Work it faster.”
She does and I do too. She’s wet and glistening. Her fingers move faster and she arches her back. “Yes, yes,” she cries out.
“That’s it, babe. I want to lick you so fucking bad. Turn over on all fours with your ass in the air. I want to see you dripping when you come.”
“I… I…”
She turns over and I pump my hand furiously as she claims her orgasm proudly. Her juices spurt out and the rest leaks down her legs. When she gains her breath she grabs the phone. “Oh my God, I want to see you.”
So I hold the phone with one hand while I pump and tug and whisper how much she turns me on. For a moment I break from reality. My body goes rigid as I shout curse words loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Cum spews all over me and runs down my hands.
When I look up she’s sucking her fingers, tasting herself.
“I love it when you talk dirty,” she says looking away from the screen. Like it’s okay to have phone sex but not talk about it after. She’s quite the contradiction.
“When I get home, I’ll whisper nothing but dirty talk to you.”
“Promise?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Go to my Granny’s birthday party with me.”
She stammers, “Uuuuh… that’s a big step. Your family doesn’t even know we’re… doing whatever we’re doing.”
“We’re dating.”
She takes a breath as she curls up under the sheet naked and sated. “I’ll think about it. Don’t forget to trust yourself tomorrow.”
“I’ll use the words and breathe.”
“Night.”
She hangs up before I can tell her that I’m all in. But maybe it’s better if I do it in person.
I sleep like a baby thinking of her purrs and her body. Her giving in to the feelings.
Game Day hits like a punch of ice and noise.
It’s a different stadium, but so cold in this town that my balls may freeze.
Different crowd.
Same pressure.
But my head feels quieter. Not empty, just focused.
Warmups are clean. The game kicks off and I catch the first two passes.
On the third pass from Greyson, I’m no longer thinking.
I’m reacting again. I just move and the ball sticks to my hands.
My chest expands and I beat my fist against it.
This is me. This is the feeling I love. The one I thought I lost.
By the second quarter, I’m in rhythm.
Touchdown. Our small contingent of fans explodes in the upper deck. Teammates crash into me, helmets knocking, hands grabbing me, and voices shouting in my ear.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about the passes I’ve dropped in the past or if I’ll drop one next time. I’m soaking it all in.
The first thing I do after a locker room shower is call Annika.
Answering on the first ring, she chirps, “You did it.” There’s a genuineness in her tone.
“You were watching?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” There’s no hesitation. “No drops. Not one.”
“First time in a while. Thank you.”
I lean back against the locker. The guys are flicking me, rubbing my head, knocking the metal doors in celebration.
“So am I fixed?”
I hear her take a breath. If I’m fixed what does that mean for us?
“It’s progress,” she says.
“That’s not an answer.” I huff out a laugh, grinning from ear to ear. I’m so fucking happy to have my body and mind working together again.
When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Fine answer me this. Am I catching because my brain’s working again… or is it because I can’t stop thinking about you?”
“Those things may not be separate.”
That lands somewhere deep because she’s admitting that us being together may have an effect on my game.
“So either way, you get the credit.”
“Obviously,” she says, keeping her tone light. “But don’t get cocky,” she adds. “It’s one game.”
“Yeah but I had a decent game after…”
“Shh… you’re in the locker room aren’t you?”
I look over my shoulder. “Everyone’s gone.”
This isn’t about football anymore and that scares the daylights out of me as my granny would say.