Page 34 of This Wild Heart

“Have you been nice to my wife today, my sweet?”

She rolled her eyes. “Have you spoken to your wife today, you horse’s ass?”

I reached around her to sneak a sliced-up carrot, and she smacked my hand. “That’s for dinner.”

“Come on, I’m starving. I worked out for about five hours today.”

Louise eyed me, and I saw that concern again. The one she hadn’t been able to do away with for the past year. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she worked for me before.

Before everything. She saw the difference in me that I couldn’t hide.

“That’s too much, Parker,” she said quietly. “You know damn well that working out too much hurts your recovery time during the season.”

I patted my stomach. “Yeah, but I gotta work off all that good food you’re making me.”

She shook her head. “And to answer your question, yes, I was nice to your wife today.”

Sneaking another carrot while she sliced peppers, I leaned back just enough to see Anya. She was up now, balancing on one foot, holding the other behind her body with one hand, the other hand up in the air.

God, I’d fall the hell over if I tried to do that.

Anya let go of her foot and bent over, dropping her upper body toward her legs, her hands settling palm down onto the mat. “How the fuck can she do that?” I whispered.

Louise elbowed me. “Quit ogling the woman you coerced into marriage.”

“Oh please. You should try to say no to her when she gets an idea in her head. It’s not that simple. The woman wanted her money, and who was I to say no? If she didn’t marry me, she might’ve found some random douchebag on the Strip, and then where would she be?”

“Yes, you’re a paragon of chivalry,” Louise muttered. “How’d your mom take it?”

I grimaced. “It wasn’t a long conversation. Most of it was spent with her crying happy tears and me generally not trying to feel like shit for lying to her.”

“You don’thaveto lie to her, you know.”

“Helpful, thank you.”

I grabbed one of the peppers, and Louise sighed, yanking open a drawer to hand me a bowl. “Fill this and leave me be.”

“Lying to my mom, my family, serves a purpose,” I explained.

“Oh, I’m sure it does in your mind. The person telling the lie can always justify it.”

I finished filling the bowl with the raw veggies and moved to the other side of the island, pointing a piece of red pepper in her direction. “I know Sheila. She’s waiting for me to come home. They’re all gonna sit me down and make me talk about my feelings, and they’ll think it’ll help, but it won’t.”

“Of course it won’t.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You agree?”

Louise’s hand slowed, the knife easing away from the chopping board. She shook her head but didn’t look at me. “Because you’re struggling with something deeper that can’t be fixed with one conversation with your family, kid.” She swallowed. “They don’t see you every day. It’s not their fault for not knowing. I already told you my son struggled with depression in college, and?—”

“I’m not depressed,” I said evenly, trying desperately to keep a biting edge from my tone. “I’m just … I’m still off, okay? Grief isn’t linear, or whatever trite bullshit phrase they use on bereavement cards. I’m working and eating right and working out. I quit sleeping around because I knew that wasn’t helping anything, and I’m healthy. I’m not lying around doing nothing. I’m a fucking professional athlete. What do I have to be depressed about?”

She finally looked at me, and when she did, the caring in her eyes was almost my undoing. She’d tried to bring this up to me once, and I hadn’t handled it very well. Then, to my utter horror, Louise’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Oh no, no, my angel,” I said, walking back around the island to wrap her in a tight hug. “Don’t cry over me. I make a stupid amount of money, and I have a hot wife doing yoga on the deck. I’ll be all right.”

Through a wet laugh, she smacked my stomach. When I pulled away, she brushed her hand under her eyes.

“I just worry about you. That’s all.”

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