Page 53 of The Run Option

I involuntarily tighten my grip on Willow’s hand. They’ve asked about my family before. It’s not a good look that my parents never come to my games. Them not coming to the wedding would make me look even worse, like they abandoned me because of everything I’ve done when, in reality, they’ve never cared enough to even want to know about my accomplishments.

Willow runs her thumb over the back of my hand. The gesture loosens the tight knot in my stomach. My shoulders relax and I can breathe a little easier. I need to get a grip. I can’t take care of her if everything the crew says gets to me. I should be better than this.

“My parents live in Canada,” Willow answers for us. “So we thought it would be best to keep things fair and have it be just us.” She looks at me and smiles. “Plus, it was nice having it be so intimate.”

Heat pools in my stomach as I recall just howintimateour moment on the stairs was. The flush of her skin tells me she might be thinking the same thing. Though it’s probably just nerves.

“I’m sure it was. You two are certainly a beautiful couple,” Nancy says, sounding genuine.

I smile at the compliment, feeling a little better with how things are going.

“Thank you,” Willow accepts the remark graciously. She hasn’t stopped rubbing circles on my hand. The feeling of it grounds me, soothing away my prior nerves. We can do this, wearedoing this.

“Now, let’s get some shots of you newlyweds moving in together. Everyone is going to eat this up. Who would have thought the bad boy of football would settle down?”

My smile freezes on my face. Willow frowns, but doesn’t say anything. I will myself not to tense up or change my expression too drastically. This is my penance. I have to deal with the consequences of my actions.

Exhaustion settles deep in my bones as I release Willow’s hand and stand. Maybe one day I’ll have finally paid my dues in the eyes of the public. Days like today have me tired of trying though.

I go to walk around the table when Willow stops me. The documentary crew is moving to my bedroom–what they think is our bedroom–to film us unpacking the boxes that were brought earlier. But even though they aren’t actively filming, that doesn’t mean we aren’t being recorded through our mics. I warned Willow about this and told her that I wouldn’t put it past the crew to try and trick us with the off switch button and record our conversation.

Willow places a hand on my face, drawing my gaze down to her. I try to muster up a smile, but it’s difficult to manage one when she’s staring at me with her piercing silver eyes. I feel like even my best fake smile won’t fool her right now.

Are you okay?She mouths the words.

I dip my chin in response. She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me. I let out a light laugh at her stubbornness.

I’m okay, I mouth back, hoping to convey with my eyes that I’ll be all right. She doesn’t need to worry about me on top of the documentary stuff.

Willow’s hand slides down my jaw to my neck, making my heart skip. She then pulls me into a fierce hug. I wrap one arm around her waist and tangle my other hand in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. My eyes fall shut as I soak in the serenity she’s offering me. I don’t feel like I deserve it, but I need it too desperately to push her away.

Every muscle in my body begins to relax the longer we stand in each other’s arms. The slow in and out of our breathing becomes one movement. I’m not sure if I’m matching hers or she’s matching mine. Her fingertips begin to toy with the hair at the nape of my neck. I barely suppress a shiver. I could stand here all day, but I’d rather do that when there isn’t a pack of wolves with cameras watching us.

“We should get started,” I murmur once I’ve calmed down.

She pulls back and looks up at me. “We probably should.”

I smile and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.Thank you, I mouth and she smiles back at me in response. We lock hands and walk to my bedroom to unpack. Though I’m still not fond of having cameras in my personal space, I feel more equipped to face all of it with Willow at my side.

I close my eyes and let out a slow, long breath through my nose. The documentary crew is gone, and my part in helping Willow unpack is done. A few minutes ago I left her alone, worried that I had pushed her too much today. Hopefully giving her some space will keep her from pulling back from me. I’d like to at least be friends with my wife.

I’m close to falling asleep on my couch when a loud crash echoes through the house. I’m on my feet and rushing toward her bedroom without a second thought. I rush in, scanning until I find Willow standing in the closet, a hand on her head.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I close the distance between us. I scan her body, looking for any glaring injuries.

“I’m all right,” she says, though her voice is a little shaky. “I was trying to put this box on the shelf and it slipped. I panicked and didn’t even try to catch it.”

“Let me see your head, are you bleeding?” I ask, gently removing her hand from where it was hiding the right side of her forehead. Thankfully, there’s no blood, just a bright red mark that I’m certain will bruise. I scan the rest of her face for any injuries and find none, just smooth skin and pale gray eyes staring up at me.

“Why don’t you come take a break?” I suggest. “I’ll get you some ice and you can relax on the couch.”

Willow looks around at the boxes, but when her gaze lands on the one that fell, she acquiesces. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Though I’m tempted to sweep her up in my arms, I decide against it and let her walk to the couch on her own. She’s fine, I remind myself. Don’t be overdramatic. Even with my self-coaching, my heart beats out of my chest from the adrenaline. What if something worse had happened to her?

Unable to stop myself, I wrap an arm around her shoulders to walk her the rest of the way. Willow doesn’t protest, just lets me walk her to the couch in silence. Once she’s seated, I head into the kitchen to get a bag of ice and wrap it in a kitchen towel before going back to the couch.

“Here you go,” I say softly as I pass the ice to her.

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