Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

The sounds of the weight room brought a little balance back to my very fucked up reality. I’d always liked to work out. The shape of my body was something in my direct control through the diet I chose and the work I was willing to put into it. I liked things I could control.

“So, not to address the elephant in the room or anything,” Logan said as he appeared overhead as I bench pressed. “But what exactly are you going to do about that whole wedding ring thing?”

“Do you see it on my hand?” I growled as I pushed through a rep.

“Well, none of us wear rings in the weight room. You know exactly what I’m trying to say.” He folded his arms across his chest.

I set the bar back on the rack and sat up with a heavy sigh. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about this right now. Or ever. “Can we just not right now?”

“Sure. Or you could have called me back any of the nine times I called you.” He shrugged.

The sounds around me ceased, and a quick glance showed that all six other Reapers in the room had halted their workouts and were staring at me. Lukas, Axel, Connell, Noble, Sterling, and yep, Ward was still staring, too.

“If you guys are looking for me to empty my heart out on the gym floor, you’ve all lost your fucking minds.”

“That’s assuming you have a heart to empty…” Lukas teased with a smirk.

“Leave him alone,” Axel warned. As our team captain, the man took his responsibilities seriously, both on and off the ice, and apparently during the off-season, too.

“Come on, it’s natural for us to be curious,” Connell argued in his thick Scottish brogue. “You went to Vegas and married Persephone.”

“Which he thought was a prank you’d devised,” Sterling said as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. “Seriously, it would have been funny if it hadn’t been so…well, out of character for everyone involved.”

“Och, that would have been a good one,” Connell admitted thoughtfully. “But since I had no hand in your impetuous acts, I feel a little bereft and need you to fill the hole in my soul with the knowledge of what you’re going to do.”

“We’re getting an annulment,” I announced, avoiding the hollow feeling that burrowed inside my chest and set up house. “That’s what you do when you accidentally marry the queen of the debutante ball in a drug-and-alcohol-induced bout of Vegas insanity. Hell, I’m pretty sure Vegas is the reason annulments exist in the first place.”

The guys glanced at each other as if they were privy to some secret.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re all going to stand here like a bunch of moping matchmakers until you have your say, so just say it.” I rested my elbows on my knees and settled in for one of their life-is-great-when-you’re-in-love pep talks that they usually gave each other.

“You actually want our opinions?” Noble asked as he climbed out of the leg press.

“No, but I know that’s not going to stop you from giving them to me, so feel free.” Maybe if I sat through this shit once, they’d leave me alone to deal with it.

“I think you should give it a try,” Axel stated with a nod.

Every head turned his direction, and most had the same disbelieving look of what the fuck that I did.

“I’m sorry, but you think that giant, scary-ass man should stay married to the cute, fragile-looking woman who runs our charitable foundation?” Lukas questioned.

“I do.” He stood there with his arms folded across his chest, confident in his statement. “Look, I’m the only man in this room who had a quickie wedding—under some really false pretenses, I might add—and look how we ended up? I fucking love my wife and wouldn’t change a thing about how we got to this point.”

“Right, but you wanted that marriage,” Noble argued. “You were the one who asked Langley for it, if I remember correctly. You didn’t just wake up married to the woman and think, well, let’s make the best of it.”

“If I had woken up next to Langley—” Sterling started with a smirk.

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence,” Axel warned, leveling a glare on the kid.

“I’m with Noble on this one, Cannon,” Connell said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “That lass is no match for you.”

“Hey, she’s not exactly weak,” Logan countered.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Connell argued. “She’s sweet and kind, and he’s…” He gestured at me.

“The surliest bastard on the entire planet?” Lukas offered.

“Exactly.” Connell nodded. “I think you’re making the right decision with an annulment. I say set the lass free before you hurt her, because whether you mean to or not, she’s going to get scraped up.”

He was right, which was exactly the reason I’d called my lawyer in the first place.

“Oh, come on. Do you see the way they look at each other?” Sterling stepped into the fray.

The group muttered.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked since no one wanted to offer an answer to that ridiculous question.

“He’s right.” Axel nodded. “When you two aren’t fighting over something ridiculous, or generally pissing each other off, you do…well…look at each other.”

My gaze narrowed on the man, and he had the nerve to grin at me.

“She looks at you like you’re… I don’t know. I guess a mixture of devil and dessert,” Sterling said with a shrug. “When you’re not looking, of course.”

“Right? Like that time she fell into his lap on the plane?” Logan added.

“You’re not helping my cause here,” I told my best friend.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“And sorry to tell you, but you look at her like you’re torn between worshipping her and carrying her off to worship her, if you get my meaning,” Sterling said. “You know, in the hot, sweaty way of—”

“We get it!” Lukas shouted. “Christ, you’re talking about a woman we work with.”

“A hot woman we work with,” Sterling muttered. “And it’s not like I was saying that I wanted to—”

“Enough.” I shot a glare at the kid to make sure he understood my meaning.

“Are we talking about the sudden marriage of one Cannon Price to Persephone VanDoren?” Sawyer asked as he walked into the weight room. “Because I can hear that shit all the way down the hall.”

Great, now I had to listen to the resident newlywed weigh in.

“You have an opinion?” Noble asked him.

“Me?” Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “Hell no. Cannon, I love you like a brother, and you deserve to be happy. Persephone is pretty fucking awesome, but if she isn’t the one, and this is really some giant fuck-up, then exit with grace, my man.” He took a seat on the bench across from mine.

“And do you have an opinion?” I asked Logan as he stood beside me, just like he always did.

He sighed and ripped his hand across his hair. “Honestly, you know I’m going to back whatever decision you make. That’s my job as your friend.”

“And I appreciate that. But if everyone in here is giving me their best Dr. Phil, I wouldn’t mind hearing your actual thoughts.” I’m not sure how I managed to say it, but I did. The more they all talked, the higher my blood pressure spiked.

“I think you guys have something. I think we’ve all seen it since that first moment you met, and we’ve watched you two dance around each other for almost two years. You want to explore that? Cool. There are six men in here who will testify that our happiness is dependent on the way we feel about our women.”

The guys muttered an ascent.

“Sterling will tell you that his happiness is dependent on the way a plethora of women feel about him.” Logan arched a brow at the resident playboy of the Reapers, but hey, none of us were perfect our rookie years. “I also think that girl is a good one. She’s the kind of woman you don’t fuck around on. The woman you hold on to for the rest of your life. And you, my friend, are carrying about three tons of damage like it’s nothing. I’m not saying that she won’t help you dig through your shit, because I think she will. But I am saying that if you’re going to use that damage as an excuse to run, then you do it now before either of you gets hurt.”

I nodded, knowing that what he said made the most sense out of any of them. Then I stood and headed for the door.

“Hey, are you going to tell us what you decided?” Connell asked.

I turned in the doorway to face down the friends that had become my family over the last two seasons. “Really?”

“We could vote,” Sterling suggested. “But I should get to show everyone the videos of you guys in Vegas. It seems only right to put the evidence out there.”

“Everyone’s already seen the videos,” Axel countered.

My temper snapped.

“Sure, we could vote. You know, if my life was a fucking democracy that you guys ran.” I folded my arms over my chest and glared them down. “But it’s not. It’s my life to fuck up, so while I value everyone’s thoughts, let’s just all agree that you’ll never give them to me again unless I ask, okay? Because the last time I checked, there are only two people in my marriage, and lucky for me, none of you are my wife.”

My wife. While part of me rebelled against the term, kicking and screaming in all of my stubborn glory, there was an annoying warmth that filled my chest, too.

“You’re a little too dominant for me,” Connell replied with a smirk.

“You don’t have to listen to us,” Axel agreed. “Hell, I’m not really sure you’ve listened to anyone in your entire life. But I hope you give this a chance. You deserve your shot at happiness, too.”

And that warmth shriveled and died.

“It’s not about what I deserve. It’s about what she deserves. I am more fucked up than any of you know. You think she’s going to want me all tatted up and hair-triggered at her fucking country club? I’m the guy you fuck on a spring break weekend so you can brag about it to your sorority sisters, and the only reason a woman would ever introduce me to her daddy is to piss him off so she can work out her own issues. Trust me, she wants this annulment just as badly as I do, and the press has to be killing her.”

“She wants the annulment too?” Logan asked, concern shining through his eyes.

“Of course she does! Who the fuck would ever want to stay married to me? Definitely not someone like her, who’s been raised on her daddy’s money and high society. That woman is everything I loathed growing up. I got shipped from foster home to foster home praying that I’d get placed with my sister in the next one. Hoping they wouldn’t mind feeding a teenage boy, let alone clothing me during a growth spurt. Don’t even get me started on trying to play hockey during those years.”

“Cannon,” Axel started, but I cut him off.

“Persephone hasn’t struggled for a single thing in her life. She’s been handed whatever she wanted the minute she wanted it. She has no idea what it’s like to come from my background or deal with my damage. You honestly think two people that different have any business sharing a last name?”

By the time I finished my tirade, the guys were all looking anywhere but at me. Or the doorway behind me.

My stomach hit the fucking floor.

“She’s standing right behind me, isn’t she?” I snapped.

They had the nerve to mutter and nod.

“Well, now that you’ve covered every reason I’ll never be what you want, do you think you have a couple of minutes to talk, husband?”

I turned around slowly, steeling myself for what I’d find.

Persephone stared me down despite my height advantage. She wore a different dress than the one she’d worn home on the plane a few hours ago. It was pink, like the color rising in her cheeks, and the simple sheath clung to every elegant line the woman had.

“If we must,” I agreed, then walked right past her, heading for the locker room.

How the fuck was I married to her? Of every fantasy I’d ever allowed myself to have, my ring on her finger had not been one of them.

“Can you please slow down?” she called after me. “Not all of us are six feet tall!”

“Six five,” I threw over my shoulder. “Wait here.” I slipped into the team locker room and grabbed my bag. She’d caught up to me by the time I exited. “Follow me.”

I led her down the hall a bit to the away locker room, then flipped the light switch and held the door open for her.

“Well, at least I’m getting two-word sentences,” she muttered as she passed under my arm. God, everything about the woman was petite except her curves. Those were fully fleshed out, as my brain liked to remind me every five fucking seconds since waking up in bed next to her.

“What can I do for you, wife?” Why the fuck did I say that? Just because I could? Because as soon as the annulment went through, she’d be free to have someone else call her that? A rage bubble rose in my throat at the thought.

“I just need to talk to you for a second.” Oh great, now she was pulling on her pearls, which was a definite sign that she was stressed.

“Okay.” I stripped off my shirt and threw it on the bench.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as her gaze skimmed my chest, no doubt horrified by the amount of ink I had going on there. Hadn’t she gotten an eyeful in that hotel room?

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and tossed them in the same direction as my shirt. Then I dropped my athletic shorts, leaving me in nothing but my black boxer briefs.

The fact that I was semi-hard didn’t faze me. That was pretty much my constant state around Persephone, and I’d gotten used to it. Apparently, she hadn’t, though, because her eyes had graduated from wide to fucking huge.

“You’re not talking.” I grabbed my shower bag and walked right past her slackened jaw.

Of course, my ink shocked her. The guys she’d been with probably had their frat symbols inked on their arms, and that was it. Hell, if that.

“Right. Um. Sorry. It’s just that you’re naked.” Her voice pitched ridiculously high, and I grinned as I headed for the shower, knowing she couldn’t see it.

“Not yet, but soon, sweetheart.” I reached the showers and started to lower my boxer briefs.

“Oh my God! Right! I’ll just wait out here!”

I glanced over my shoulder to see her covering her eyes with her hand, backing away like she’d stumbled onto the set of a porn.

“You do that,” I called out before turning on the shower and getting to business. I took my time, careful not to give my already-eager cock too much attention as I washed. The last thing I needed was to sport a full hard on while trying to deal with whatever shit she wanted to talk about.

She’d probably faint right on the spot.

I finished my shower, then wrapped myself in a towel, tucking it in at the waist before walking back into the locker room.

She sat next to my gym bag and meticulously folded pile of laundry. God, the woman couldn’t even stand to have dirty clothes out of place, so how the hell had she ever thought marrying me was a good idea?

“You said you wanted to talk. So, talk.”

“Right. I did.” She stood like it would somehow put us on an even playing ground when I was a good foot or more taller than she was. I momentarily thought about lifting her to the bench so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. “Look, about our marriage…”

“The one I already promised to get annulled first thing Monday?”

“Monday?” She looked stricken.

“Damn, Princess, I know people jump at your command, but we literally got married on a Friday. I can’t exactly ask my lawyer to file papers at a court that isn’t open until Monday. I’m sorry I can’t wave a magic wand and make the last forty-eight hours disappear, but I’m trying my hardest.”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head, sending her hair moving in a ripple.

Fuck, she was beautiful. Fucking flawless.

“Then please tell me what you meant.”

Her gaze lingered on my abs before she dragged it up to meet mine. “It’s really hard to think when you’re not wearing any clothes,” she snapped.

“I think just fine. I’d even go as far to say that I do my best work without my clothes.”

She seethed. “Cannon, please! I’m trying to talk about something serious, and I can’t very well do that when you’re standing there all…” She stepped forward, her gaze locked on my stomach, and she reached forward, almost absent-minded.

“Don’t.” I stepped out of her reach, and her eyes flew to mine, wide and embarrassed. “Standing here all what?” I dared her. “Inked? Scary? Scandalous?”

“Gorgeous!” she snapped, then blinked. “Scary? You’re not scary. You’re distracting the shit out of me, but you’re not scary.”

Gorgeous? I took in the flush of her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against that modest neckline. Huh. Maybe I wasn’t the only one fighting an attraction here.

“Turn around,” I ordered.

“What?”

“Turn around unless you want an eyeful.”

Our eyes locked as the room filled with a potent electricity. Fuck me, but one tug of this towel, and a simple tug of her panties to the side, and I could be so deep inside this woman that she’d be ruined for every man who came after me.

The thought had its appeal.

She broke the connection, turning her back on me, and I went about getting dressed.

“I don’t think we can get this annulled.”

I paused momentarily, then jerked my boxer briefs up and reached for my shorts. “Why? It’s not like we had sex.”

“You don’t know that,” she said primly.

I pulled on my shorts and shirt. “It’s safe to turn around now.”

She did, and I felt an odd sense of satisfaction that she looked disappointed when she saw I had my shirt on.

“I do know that we didn’t have sex,” I reiterated, sitting to get my socks and shoes on.

“You can’t possibly know that!” She repeated.

“No condoms in the trash can. Trust me, even drunk, there’s no way I’d forget to use one.”

“Well, maybe you did this time. I mean, we both did things completely out of character, right?” She ran her tongue across her lips, and I quelled the urge to pull her toward me and suck it into my mouth.

My gaze narrowed. What the hell was she getting at?

“Are you sore?” I bent to tie my shoes, and by the time I looked up, she still hadn’t answered me. “Well, are you? Because if we’d had sex, trust me, you’d still feel it. You’re fucking tiny, and I’m not.”

“Well, no.” She looked away. “But that doesn’t mean anything, either.”

It what? My gaze narrowed. “Okay, then how about this. It wouldn’t matter if I was drugged out of my goddamned mind. If I ever got my hands on your body, I’d remember. We didn’t have sex. Trust me. What the hell is this really about, Persephone?”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I need us to stay married.”

My jaw dropped. “I’m sorry?”

“My mom is really sick. She’s dying. She has a super rare blood type, and her kidneys are failing. We’ve tried for the last five years to find her a match and can’t. The doctors are giving her months, Cannon. That’s it. Just months.” She took a seat beside me on the bench.

“God, I’m sorry.” Losing my mother had been the worst moment of my life. I wouldn’t wish that shit on my worst enemy. Persephone was a lot of things, but she wasn’t even close to being an enemy.

“Thank you. I guess it just goes to show you that money can’t buy everything, right?” She forced a smile. “I thought she was going to lose it when the press got ahold of our wedding pictures.”

“Fucking chapel,” I muttered.

“We should definitely report them to the Better Business Bureau,” she said with a nod.

The corners of my mouth lifted.

“Anyway, instead of being angry at me, she was thrilled.” Her voice shook a little.

“Thrilled?” I examined her profile, but there wasn’t any hint that she was lying.

“She was so happy. She said she just wanted to see me happy. To see me find love. And then she mentioned the dozen or so times my older sister has been married and annulled within a month, and I felt so…slimy.”

“Slimy,” I repeated because I didn’t have any other words.

“Right.” She turned slightly and looked up at me.

Fuuuuuuck, those eyes hit me right in the heart. I threw up every defense I’d managed to construct in my twenty-seven years, and those baby blues sliced right through them like butter.

“Cannon, I know you hate me and hate how I was raised and pretty much everything I stand for, but would you consider staying married to me? At least until…” She drifted off.

At least until my mother dies. I heard her unspoken words loud and clear.

“Persephone, I’m the last person your family would ever want you married to, even for a few months. Look at me.”

She didn’t flinch. “I am looking at you, Cannon. My mother has seen your pictures. She knows you’re an NHL star. She knows, and she’s still so happy for me, and the idea of taking that happiness away from her when she’s already lost so much…” She shook her head.

It would only be for a few months. Holy shit, was I actually considering this? “There are a thousand reasons this is a shit idea.”

Her eyes flared with hope. “But one really good reason that it’s not. And I wouldn’t ask much of you, I promise. Well, there’s one thing.” She cringed.

“There’s something bigger than asking me to stay married to you when we both know we’re completely wrong for each other?”

“Mom wants to plan a wedding.”

“Fuck that—”

“She said she can’t die knowing that I was married by a singing Elvis and she wasn’t even there to see me, or have my dad give me away. And it would be a really small affair, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone because we’re already married, right?” She pressed her lips in a thin line and flat-out begged. “Please, Cannon? Please?”

Those eyes. They were my fucking kryptonite.

But marry her again? This time for real? Just to turn around and annul it months later? Months of living with her? Struggling to keep my hands off her?

“Persephone, I don’t know. I really respect what you’re trying to do for your mom. You have no idea how much I respect you for it but do you really want her last months on this earth—her last months with you—to be consumed by a lie?”

She stood slowly and turned to face me. “I want her last months on this earth to be consumed by happiness, and if I have to lie to give her that, then I hope she’ll forgive me when I eventually join her. I hate having to ask you to lie. I’ve honestly never known you to even tell a lie. But I can’t give that kind of happiness to my mother without your help. I know it’s unfair of me to ask, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

She raised her chin and stilled, waiting for my verdict.

“I need some time to think. Can you give me that?” I asked her.

Hope flared in her eyes again, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I can give you that.” She gifted me with a smile that would have knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been sitting down. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She was almost out the door when I called her name.

“Persephone.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t hate you,” I assured her gently. Her posture softened. “I might hate everything your wealth stands for, but I don’t hate you. There’s a difference.” I needed her to know that. Why? Who the hell knew.

“Thank you. And don’t stress about the wedding thing. Really. I’ll even buy your tux. You know, a real one. Not like the tux and T-shirt you wore to the Vegas wedding.”

My eyes widened, and she waved her goodbye and ran.

Smart woman.

I headed home to Reaper Village, where the team all had houses in the same suburban neighborhood, and called the only woman I trusted.

My sister answered and filled me in on life with my nephew before dropping the bomb that she’d already seen the gossip sites.

“I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

She was seriously the best. I caught her up on everything, from waking up in Vegas to Persephone’s plea in the locker room.

“What do I do?” I asked as I pulled into my driveway.

“You’re asking me for advice on marriage?” She laughed. “God, I think mine lasted, what? Six months?”

“I’m serious, Lillian. I need advice, and you’re the only one who really knows me well enough to give it.”

She sighed. “Okay. All I can say is to follow your heart. And honestly, what would you give to go back and make Mom that blissfully happy during her last months?”

“Anything,” I replied. “I would give anything.”

I guess I had my answer.