Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
PARKER
Parker
MONDAY:
Same morning routine, except there’s no session with Annika.
She messages but I need more time. I can’t give my whole self to Annika if she can’t do the same.
What happens if she got sick and didn’t tell me.
What if she got accused of something professionally and didn’t tell me?
What if we had kids and she kept their secrets from me.
Dad calls, shaking me from the black hole I was falling into.
“Hey. I’m on my way over.”
“Why?”
“Can’t your Dad come over without a reason?”
A puff of air filters from my mouth. “Dad, we both know why you’re coming over.”
He’s standing on my doorstep a few minutes later with a truckload of wood. “I guess I can’t say no.”
“Nope. And we need to build two toddler swings for my patio. I don’t want to hear fighting. It’s my turn.”
He smiles to himself.
“Okay, I’ll open the gate to the back.”
We work on them for a few hours and now all we need to do is pick out a stain color.
“Thanks Dad. How did you know what I needed?”
“I didn’t. But we’re a lot alike and using my hands has always been good therapy. When your mom passed away, I built two sheds, an in-ground trampoline and the big swing on the patio.”
TUESDAY:
I sand the wood, making it as smooth as Annika’s legs.
WEDNESDAY:
I apply the first coat of the stain, covering up the knots and imperfections, reminding me of the stain on Annika’s heart. How she carefully crafted an armor to stop the pain.
THURSDAY:
Before we leave on the team plane for Louisville, I apply the last coat of stain, unable to get Annika out of my mind.
She reached out, and I want to be with her, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me. So where does that leave me?
I need her. Love her.
FRIDAY
It doesn’t make sense on paper. The noise is constant—music humming and filtering through your ears, the chatter of the media, the pulse of a city gearing up for game day with your season on the line.
My phone buzzes every few minutes with updates, messages, and expectations. My teammates are everywhere enjoying the city. Most of my family is here except for Dad, he’ll fly in tomorrow. Noelle’s covering the game so one of Matt’s best friends is watching all the kids.
And yet, it’s too quiet where it matters, in my head and heart.
Because she’s not here.
Because I walked away.
Because I don’t know if me needing time to process was the right thing to do or say.
I’m accusing her of not helping her teammates but I’m doing the same to her, by not being there for her.
I sit on a golden throw at the end of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet pattern. Annika’s face plays on a loop in my head and I can’t seem to shut it off.
The look of devastation on her face and the way she didn’t hold back once she broke wide open and started telling the full story.
Replaying it in my mind, maybe she shoved those memories away to survive. Yeah, I looked up how some people deal with trauma. Just block it out. Compartmentalize it.
And the part I can’t shake is she’s trying now.
That matters.
Maybe it shouldn’t since she admitted to knowing what was happening to her friends.
But it does. At least to me. Her former teammates may see it from an entirely different perspective.
The fact that she asked me for Nadia’s phone number last night is a leap of faith. She’s being bold and courageous and stepping back into a situation that she ran away from for years. It says something about her and who she’s trying to be.
I just don’t know if it’s enough. And I don’t know what’ll happen when Nadia tells her another secret, whether it’ll heal Annika’s scars—or finish breaking her completely.
SATURDAY
It’s comforting knowing how structured and controlled our days are when we’re away for the weekend.
Last minute film.
Media.
Now the walkthrough.
All the pieces lined up exactly where they’re supposed to be.
Except me.
I’m a step off and a half-second behind.
Even when I hit my routes clean, even when my hands feel right again, my head isn’t fully there. It keeps drifting back to Annika, forward to what I’m going to do when I get back.
When walkthroughs are over, we all change and meet for dinner. The team fills a private room at the hotel. Plates clinking, voices overlapping, energy building the way it does when a playoff bye is on the line. Or a relationship.
I sit across from Greyson, Matt, Jaylen and Cozen, our left guard who looks like he could bench press our whole table without breaking a sweat.
I cut into my chicken marsala, scooping up mashed potatoes in the same bite.
Matt looks at me. “Your sister would not approve.” He points with his knife to my combining of food and laughs as he’s cutting into his steak. “The Louisville Heavyweights aren’t the same team anymore.”
Greyson says, “Yeah since when?”
“Since Logan Warren retired,” Matt replies without missing a beat.
Greyson leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck? I’ve beaten him before.”
Matt smirks, “Sure you have. But since Logan and Harper are keeping your children, you should be nice.”
Greyson points at him with his fork. “And here I thought I was your golden boy.”
“You’re my new golden boy, but Warren was my first.” A couple of seconds pass before he adds, “Firsts are special.”
Greyson lets out a slow breath, lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “Lasts better be the most special.”
The table goes quiet.
Then Jaylen catches on. “Ohhh, you’re not talking about football anymore, are you?”
“You’re catching on. And yes, Noelle is the love of my life.” Matt grins as he continues to tease.
Greyson flips him off.
I smile, but it doesn’t stick.
Jaylen notices how it slips from my face. He leans over so we’re shoulder to shoulder, lowering his voice. “You good?”
I nod once, “Yeah.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, not buying my answer.
I shake my head, glancing around the table. “It’s private.”
“Is it serious?”
Yeah.” I pause and add, “If I could tell anyone outside my family, it would be you.”
Jaylen tips his chair back, almost rocking. “Alright, but if ya need me man, I’m here,” he says, slapping my arm. “Try not to overthink it.”
Too late.
“I’m hitting the sack,” Cozen chimes in. “Old guys need their sleep.”
“Me too, need to keep the ladies buzzing about.” Jaylen jokes.
They head out leaving my family at the table. Greyson wipes his mouth glancing between me and Matt, “You two are weirdly quiet.”
“Enjoying the calm before the storm.” Matt shrugs.
Greyson looks at me again. “Seriously, are you good?”
I nod, unconvincing, but it’s enough, for now.
Matt shifts in his seat like something’s clicked. “Oh, speaking of weird,” he says casually like it’s nothing. “Apparently Anna called Witt.”
“What?” My head snaps up.
“Noelle mentioned it. Said she asked him to dig more into her father and see what else he can find.”
“Did she give a reason?”
Matt leans in, elbows on the table like he’s selling government secrets. “She didn’t give details. Just that… someone else came forward.”
The thought settles heavy on my shoulders. I drag a hand over my face wondering why Annika wants to know. I thought she wanted to be removed from it and not drag herself into it.
“She asked me for Nadia’s number,” I say, expelling a deep breath at the same time.
Greyson says, “Remind me of who Nadia is?”
“The one who told me everything during pre-game last week.” I stare at the table, playing with the spoon I didn’t use. “I hope they’ve talked.”
Matt watches me carefully, like Noelle’s put him on suicide watch. “Why?”
I let out a breath. “Because that asshole father of Annika’s got Nadia pregnant,” I mutter. “And now Annika has a sister.”
The air pushes down on us, weighted and heavy.
Greyson sits up straighter, “Jesus. If this wasn’t fucked up before…”
“I know.” There’s nothing more to add. Nothing changes the fact her dad is the worst kind of person.
Back in my room, I move on autopilot.
Gear check.
Shower.
Rewatch game film of the Heavyweights’ defense.
Anything to keep my brain occupied. But none of it works. She’s still there in every quiet second. Between every snap. In every pause between thoughts.
I pick up the hotel phone before I can overthink it.
“Room service,” a voice answers.
“I’d like to place a breakfast order for tomorrow early.” I don’t hesitate, knowing what I want. “Watermelon juice and French toast with strawberries.”
There’s a beat on the other end before she asks, “Anything else?”
“That’s it. Thank you. Four A.M.”
“Yes sir.”
I hang up and stare out the window covered with transparent curtains, thinking.
Even if I don’t eat it, it’ll be a reminder of her.
SUNDAY hits fast in the cold, crisp and unforgiving Kentucky morning.
Bright and loud, the fans are already chanting, “Float like a butterfly, hit like a Heavyweight.”
And I find the loneliest place in the world isn’t an empty room—it’s a full stadium of people when the one person you want isn’t here.
I shake out my hair and redirect my mind to the buzzing crowd, jumping up and down, hyping myself up. The Heavyweights need this win to secure a wild card playoff spot and we need it to get a first round bye.
A game of high stakes.
One win away.
I should be ready.
I’m not.
Matt calls a slant route and the first pass comes out of Greyson’s hands, a pass I’ve caught thousands of times in my life and I drop it. The sound of it hitting the turf sounds like a wrecking ball hitting a concrete building in my mind. My chest tightens.
Here it comes. That shift when my game starts to unravel.
I run back to the sideline when Matt puts in a substitution for me.
“Hey, come here.”
I look over. Sutton stands on the edge of the field, arms crossed, expression sharp. This is Boss Lady Sutton as Greyson says when she means business.
“Really?” she says or asks.
I exhale. “It’s one play,” I say, because that’s what everyone tells me. It’s one play. Shake it off.
“We’re one game away from having a bye,” she shoots back. “Do I need to call Anna? Because I will. We need this game.”
I stiffen.
“Sutton…”
“Sorry but you’re Parker fucking O’Ryan.
Wide receiver for the Austin Armadillos.
And my little brother. Show them why we signed you three years ago.
Show them the guy who gives the fans a thrilling victory.
I believe in you. Your team believes in you.
Anna believes in you. Just use whatever tools she gave you to block out the noise. ”
She steps into me and pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry but sometimes I have to play boss at work.”
“I finally got one your legendary speeches. I don’t expect you to go easy on me.” I say feeling a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Good.” But Sutton adds in a softer sisterly tone, “We can have drinks later and talk about your relationship. I don’t know if you know my story, but sometimes getting out of a situation is all an abused person can do. Sometimes it’s all you can do to save yourself.”
I take in her words. All of them. All Annika was doing was saving herself. I fucked up.
I glance back toward the field, keeping an eye on Matt in case he puts me back in the game.
“It’s taken me a while, but I realize something, like literally just now.”
“Yeah?”
I roll my shoulders back, forcing myself to reset and acknowledge it.
“I’m me.” I say, “Not J.D. or Greyson.”
Sutton awards me with an approving look that a mom would give her son. “About time. Because you’re more athletic than either of them. But that’s between you and me.”
She throws her head back, laughs and I can’t stop the grin desperately trying to break free.
Because whatever happens next in football or life—I’m not letting it break me. I’m Parker O’Ryan, and my legacy will be determined by me.
Not my brothers.
Not my dad.
The legacy that matters will be determined by Annika—the woman who made me whole again and now I need to beg for forgiveness from the woman I love.