Controlled.
Observant.
Successful.
Until now. Until Parker.
The way his hands felt. The way he slowed down, and damn, the way he looked at me like he could see inside my soul. See and feel what I needed.
This can’t happen. It can’t.
Needing something to ground me, I drop my bag and walk to the kitchen and fill a glass of water.
That’s when I see the envelope on the counter. It wasn’t there when I left.
My stomach curls up in knots.
There’s no stamp. No return address.
Just an envelope with my name—Annika.
The only person that calls me Annika is on the team plane.
My fingers hover over the envelope. A strange familiar dread creeps up my spine. I glance toward the door, then flip on the lights, half expecting for someone to be there hiding. Waiting for me.
To catch me off-guard.
There’s nothing but silence. It’s always quiet before everything breaks.
I pick up the envelope and the paper feels heavier than your typical notecard. Like it carries something more than ink and words.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I slide my finger under the seal and open it.
One sheet. One line.
“You’ve always been good at pretending nothing happened.”
That’s all. But it’s enough to let out a desperate gasp, because I recognize the handwriting from memories, nightmares and headlines.
From everything I buried and ran from.
And just like that, the past I erased knows where I live.
SEVENTEEN
PARKER
If she thinks I’m just going to let it go, she should know I’ve climbed mountains. Small ones but still.
The text. The brush off.
Thanks, I’m good.
I don’t think so.
If it wasn’t for Sunday night dinner at dad’s house, I would have tracked her down and been standing on her doorstep. But whenever the Armadillos have an early game, Sunday is reserved for family. It’s a late dinner so the kids are asleep. Dad can’t stop talking about how I’ve turned the corner and he wants Anna to come work with his players.
My face turns beet red thinking about how much I enjoyed pleasing her last night and how I feel something special happening between us.