Chapter 25 #2
“You’re not going to believe this, but I had it too when I was eight.”
Our eyes lock. “What are the odds?”
I murmur, “Apparently not zero.”
Something shifts again. But deeper this time. More grounded.
“That’s why you said what you did,” he says, his words lingering. “About the body remembering.”
I nod. “My body betrayed me once. I had to learn to trust it again. I missed a month of hockey.”
His tongue peeks out and swipes over his lips, watching me like I just gave him something important. Because I did.
And that’s when I realize this is more than attraction and sexual chemistry. This is our second chance, not with each other, but with life. This is real for him and for me. It’s impossible to control.
I can’t stop myself from loving… liking him. And I don’t know what to do with that.
Parker finds a flat pebble, stands and skips it across the lake. “Want to try?”
“Sure.”
He hands me a rock, and it hits the water once and sinks. Then he presses his chest against my back, hands me a rock, holding my arm as he helps me flick it. This time it skips over the blue water three times. I lean back on his shoulder and he bends over, kissing my cheek.
“I could be with you all day like this,” he says. “I’m a simple man, Anna. Food, water, nature, football and you. That's all I need.”
I should be pulling back.
Creating distance.
Rebuilding walls.
Instead, I’m letting them crack, bracing myself for them to come tumbling down.
There’s a bench around the turn. With our hands braided together, we walk and talk. “Have you ever been fishing?”
“Me? No.”
“When I was young, Dad brought us out here all the time. After mom died, J.D. went to college and the rest of us came out here weekly. There’s something about the water rippling when you get a bite, knowing the fish are struggling the same as you are.”
“We have a lot in common.” My parents aren’t dead but might as well be.
He nods and raises the bench seat. It’s full of rods, reels and fishing stuff. “Fish with me. Here’s Noelle’s old rod. She just had to have pink,” he says like he’s reminiscing.
“Okay but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Trust me. I’ll teach you.”
Canceling my morning appointments, I fish beside my boyfriend. He ties a plastic little cricket that spins onto my fishing line then holds me tight, teaching me how to cast. His broad shoulders surround mine and his warm breath blankets my cheek.
When he says, “Are you ready to do it by yourself,” I’m not going to lie, I’ll miss his body against mine, but I say, “Okay.”
I cast out, but the line catches in the brush. He laughs. “It’s okay. Let the line out when you’re here instead of when you follow through.”
“You sound like a quarterback coach.”
“I’ve had a lot of quarterbacks in my life.”
“Why didn’t you become a quarterback? I’m sure your high school coach…”
He cuts me off before I finish. “Because I told the coach I wouldn’t play if I had to play QB.”
His tone is a little sharp. This man is sick and tired of being compared, yet he chose to be on a team with them, where the comparisons would be exaggerated and echoed ten times as much.
“I’m glad you chose to be a wide receiver.”
His face pinches. “Why?”
“Because we wouldn’t have had a chance of meeting if you were throwing instead of catching.”
“You mean not catching.” A smile tips from his lips.
“You’re catching now.”
“Because of you. Because I trust you. And I want you to trust me,” he says, turning to face me, cupping my cheeks.
I nod, knowing he wants me to open up, and I will. Just not now.
“In all honesty, I’ve never trusted anyone like I do you. Maybe my dad… before…”
He doesn’t speak, instead he kisses me, gentle and reverent.
“We both need to get back. Thanks for giving up something for me. I know your clients need you as much as I do.”
I’m not easy to love or get to know. I pushed him away in college, not that he didn’t give me a reason, but still. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone my secret. Staying out of the limelight was the only way. And if I fell for Parker O’Ryan, everyone would know my secret.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“As much as I tease about it being the sex that fixed me, I know it’s more about pinpointing the cause of my anxiety and fear. You’ve shown me that I’m enough and I keep saying to myself what you told me. ‘I’m like them. And they’re like me.’”
I smile. “I would bet that you’re better than them at being a receiver.”
He pecks me on the lips, chuckling. “I thought you were going to say better in the bedroom.”
“Well, I know they can’t be better than you at that,” I wink.
“And you’re not finding out,” he challenges.
“Why would I when I have the best O’Ryan?”
He rewards me with one more kiss and a flopping fish later, we throw it back into the water and walk back to the car, our fingers locked together.
The clinic feels colder when I walk in. Quieter. Jenna hands me the mail with a distracted smile.
Nausea ripples from my stomach, up through my throat at the envelope with no return address. I wait until I’m alone with both the inner and outer door closed.
I take my letter opener out of the drawer, acting like it’s the electric bill.
If you don’t tell him, I will.
My rib cage locks over my heart. The air is swept from my lungs. The past has caught up to me.
I realize whoever is sending these notes knows exactly where to aim. Who I’m with.
I’m being stalked.
The rest of the day is a blur, but something has changed. Not just fear. It’s more like awareness.
Every sound, sharper.
Every movement, noticed.
Every shadow, a question.
By the time I leave, the parking lot feels too open and exposed. With how tight I’m gripping my keys, I feel like I could crush a soda can. I scan the mostly deserted area. Cars, windows, people and the landscaping.
Nothing.
A tingle crawls up my spine. Something isn’t right.
I dive into my car, lock the doors and check the rearview mirror. I swear I see someone standing at the far edge of the lot. Maybe I should just confront the person and go down swinging. What’s the worst thing that can happen?
They kill me.
Kidnap me.
Expose me.
Lose Parker.
Losing Parker would be the nail in my coffin. As much as I’ve resisted him in college, now it’s impossible. I know the real Parker O’Ryan. The one with a gentle spirit, a dirty-talking champion, lips that caress my body, and he knows the spots that drive me insane with want.
This person is a threat to my new life and it’s time I figure out how to stop them.
If you don’t tell him, I will.