Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “Cannon, you’re one of my best friends, my brother on the ice, and one of the scariest yet most compassionate people I know.” Logan raised his glass. “I wish you and your lovely bride the very best in the long, long years to come.”

  The crowd clapped and raised their glasses as well, and tears pooled into my eyes. Logan’s genuine love for his friend stung every inch of my heart. I was a fool. A damned fool for letting it get this far. For thinking my love would be enough for both of us. For thinking he’d want to stay in this marriage with me after…after everything. Now it wouldn’t only be me and mine who were hurt, but all of us. Our family. His family.

  “Now it’s time for the sister of the bride to say a few words,” My father announced, and a new wave of panic hit me. I didn’t think Anne had wanted to do a toast, let alone prepare one. I certainly hadn’t asked her to.

  “Thank you,” she said as she stood to the claps of the people around her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, the move as sharp as a razor. “My sweet, perfect sister,” she said, and I swallowed hard. “You were the best in school, the best in all your extracurriculars, and well, just about the brightest star this town has ever seen.” Some awws came from the crowd, but cold fear licked my spine. “It’s safe to say that my perfect sister Persephone has never once made a real mistake in her entire life.” She raised her glass toward me, and I couldn’t help but feel like she aimed some sort of weapon at me with the way her eyes sharpened. “But let’s be real for a second,” she continued. “We’re all human. Everyone makes mistakes. And Persephone has finally joined the human crowd and made one. Because we all know why we’re truly here.” She glanced around at the confused faces, a smirk of pure delight on her face, the glaze of a few too many drinks coating her eyes.

  Cannon’s hand found mine under the table, a steady comfort in an otherwise raging sea.

  “A bottle of Ambien,” she said, laughing loudly and showing a bit of shock when no one joined her. “I mean, come on,” she pressed. “These two?” She shook her head. “Never ever ever would’ve happened if it weren’t for that mistake in Vegas.”

  I squeezed Cannon’s hand harder.

  My father bolted from his seat, ushering Anne off the floor.

  “Congrats!” she bellowed as he guided her from the room.

  Lillian popped up from her seat, grabbing the abandoned microphone from my sister’s table. “Well,” she said. “Sisters. I’m pretty sure wanting to murder them and hug them in the span of a breath comes in the title description, am I right?” The crowd laughed, happy to have a different person to focus on. “I’m sure what she meant to say was that you two are amazing together, and we all wish you the absolute best.” She glanced around the room. “Who wants to dance?” She waved her hand where the DJ had set up in the corner of the ballroom, and soon, music filtered through the speakers.

  The dancefloor filled and drinks were poured and little desserts were offered on silver trays by waiters that flowed in and out of the room.

  I let go of Cannon’s hand, pushing away from the table. Needing to escape for a moment or a lifetime, I wasn’t sure.

  I hated that my sister had put a voice to one of Cannon’s fears. Had breathed life into something I’d been trying desperately to quash. And I knew I was strong, knew I had to be to love a man like Cannon, but I didn’t know how much fight I had left in me.

  Because in the end, no amount of fight would prove my love.

  And no amount of fight would make him love me back.

  19

  Cannon

  Couples filled the floor, dancing to the live band that played hits from the forties. If this was just the rehearsal, I couldn’t imagine what the decadence of the actual reception would look like.

  Persephone left the dais and walked along the side of the ballroom, staying clear of the crowds before disappearing through a door that was constructed to blend into the wall. I quickly followed but wasn’t as lucky dodging the well-wishers.

  “What’s going on?” Lillian asked, grabbing me gently by the elbow as I tried to sneak past her table.

  “Well, Andromeda is a spiteful—”

  “Not what I mean.” She shook her head and handed Owen another French fry that we’d had the cooks whip up especially for him. “Your wife looks ready to puke, and that was long before her snotty ass sister said anything.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, instead of the burning sensation in my chest. “It’s been a hellishly long day.”

  Her gaze narrowed on me, reading through the bullshit just like she always did. “Fix it, Cannon. Whatever is going on between you two, fix it.”

  I glanced around the ballroom, my gaze hopping from Mr. VanDoren to Michael and his black eye, to Axel and Langley on the dance floor. “What if I’m not supposed to fix it?”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “What if the best thing I can do for her is let her go?” I kept my voice low so no one else would hear.

  “That’s bullshit. That girl is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” Her eyes spat fire at me.

  “She is. But I’m not the best thing that’s ever happened to her.” My voice turned to gravel, and my jaw ticked as I struggled for control.

  “Well, I call bullshit on that, too.” She arched a dark brow at me. “You’re one of the highest-paid players in the NHL, have a heart of gold, and though it’s creepy to say this as your sister, but you’re not that bad looking, either.”

  I scoffed. “I’m not sure I have a heart.”

  She tugged my sleeve, and I sat obediently in the vacant seat next to her. No doubt they were out on the dance floor. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, Cannon. You love me. You love Owen. The way you look out for us both speaks volumes about who you are.”

  I glanced at the ring on my left hand. “That’s different. You and I kept each other alive. Persephone’s idea of love is this fairytale romcom bullshit that’s based on hormones and good times. She has no idea the kind of love it takes to—” I shook my head. “She deserves someone who thinks the same way, not someone who’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She deserves someone who fits into this crowd.” I nodded at the dancers.

  Her hand covered mine, and her smile turned sad—so much like our mother’s that my heart stuttered. “Then let her love you the way she already does, Cannon. What we survived…that’s not how it’s supposed to be. She shouldn’t have to know the kind of love it takes to step in and take it when Dad’s been drinking. She shouldn’t have to go through something like that to prove her love to you.”

  I flinched. “I would never want her to experience that. I would never allow her to put herself in harm’s way for me. Ever. God, just the thought of it turns my fucking stomach.”

  “She’ll never have to experience it because you’ll protect her.” She shrugged. “Let her be naïve when it comes to that kind of pain. Let her be innocent to abuse and neglect. She doesn’t have to live through the darkness we did in order to pull you out of it. If anything, let her be the light you follow. You deserve that, Cannon. More than anyone I know, you deserve to be happy and loved.”

  I swallowed. “And what happens when my temper snaps like it did this morning?” I nodded toward Michael.

  “Well, if she’s half the woman I think she is, she’ll forgive you.”

  “I promised her it wouldn’t happen, and it did.” I twisted my wedding…make that non-wedding ring.

  “You’re human. You make mistakes.”

  “I can’t make a mistake when it comes to her. Do you realize how small she is? How fragile?” My voice dropped to a whisper.

  Lillian’s entire posture softened, and she squeezed my hand. “Big brother, you are not our father.”

  “I have the same rage in me. He was right about that.” And I hated the fucker for it.

  “Have you ever put your hand on a woman in anger?” she questioned, tilting her head.

  “Fuck! Of course not.”

>   Some guy—I think it was the VanDoren’s attorney, turned my way, and I gave him a polite smile and nod, before lowering my voice again.

  “Never.”

  “Right.” She handed Owen another fry. “And I know the honeymoon stage is all sex and fun, but have you gotten into a fight with her? An honest-to-God, frustrated, want to shake-some-sense-into-you fight?”

  I grimaced. “We’re kind of in one right now.”

  “And you didn’t hurt her, did you?”

  “Physically? No. Of course not. I’d rather die. But emotionally…that’s another story.” I snuck a fry and reached across Lillian to hand it to my nephew. So help me God, that kid would never go through what we did.

  “That’s just…love.” She shrugged. “Whether or not you admit it, Cannon, love isn’t always forged in the hell we grew up in. Sometimes it grows tall in the sunlight. That doesn’t mean it’s not just as strong.”

  “I’m not good enough for her.” The words choked my throat.

  “Why don’t you let her decide that for herself?” When I was silent, she let out a sigh that moved the flame on the tea light in front of us. “Tell me this. Are you really prepared to live the rest of your life without her? Because it sounds like you’re on the brink of doing something incredibly stupid.”

  “I just want what’s best for her.” I leaned over and smacked a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Lillian.”

  “Don’t fuck something up because you think it’s too good to be true,” she lectured as I stood. “Sometimes, good things are just…good.”

  Apparently, my sister had been drinking the Kool-Aid around here. I nodded and headed after my wife. Shit, she wasn’t even my wife anymore. What the hell was she? My lover? My friend? Whatever label I put on us, was I honestly ready to live the rest of my life without her if it was for her own good? If it kept her safe? Made her happy in the long run?

  My head spun as I opened the door wide enough to slip through and closed it behind me. It was another ballroom, but this one was smaller. The room was dark, but Persephone was illuminated in the moonlight that shone through the picture window at the end of the room.

  Fuck, she was beautiful. Her white, lace dress had a modest neckline but hugged every one of her delectable curves until it ended above her knee. The woman was pure fucking class.

  She turned when she heard me approaching and leaned against one of the large banquet tables that lined the edges of the room.

  Our eyes locked, and my heart fucking hurt with everything that was stuffed inside it. It felt like the stupid organ was ripping at the seams. God, how could I ever walk away from her? How could I find the strength to do what was right for her, when all I wanted to do was fall at her feet and beg her to love me? To keep shining her light in the places I felt the darkest?

  “Cannon,” she whispered as I came closer.

  I didn’t slow my approach or lower my eyes.

  Hers widened, and her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip.

  I took her face in my hands and kissed her hard and deep. She moaned as our tongues twined and rubbed, the sound filling the dark room. This was my heaven. Not the ice, or between the pages of a book, but right here with Persephone in my arms.

  I lifted her onto the table without breaking the kiss, and her fingers found my hair as she tilted her mouth beneath mine. I slid my hand to the back of her head, careful not to fuck with her hair—we’d eventually have to go back out there—and she melted against me, surrendering to the power of the unquenchable desire between us.

  I kissed her in every way I’d come to love—deep and wet, soft and slow, hard and needy, until we were both panting, straining to get closer to the other.

  She unbuttoned my suit coat and slid her hands inside, skimming the edges of the area that still burned—and would for a couple of days—before reaching around my back and scoring me lightly with her nails. I hissed in pleasure and moved my mouth to her neck. I fucking loved her neck. Loved how responsive she was. Loved how she gave everything over to me without reservation. I just fucking loved h—

  “Stop!” she said suddenly, pushing me away with both of her palms on my abs.

  I stilled, frozen in the moment.

  “Cannon, please,” she pled.

  I raised my head and managed to find the willpower to step away from her. My hands slid from her hair, and a chill washed over me from the loss of her warmth.

  “Don’t do that,” she insisted, smoothing out the lines of her dress.

  “Don’t do what?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.

  “Kiss me like it’s the last time,” she whispered. Her lip trembled.

  We stood at the proverbial fork in the road.

  “Persephone, what are we doing?” I asked her softly.

  “I hope we’re getting married.” She forced a smile.

  I sat on the table next to her, aware of the inches between us, of the warmth of her skin and the scent of apple blossoms in her hair. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Anything,” she responded instantly, her pinky nearly grazing mine as we both grasped the edge of the table.

  “If we hadn’t gotten accidentally fucked up in Vegas, would we be here?” I turned to study her face.

  Her lips parted, and her brow crinkled. “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do.” I kept my tone gentle. “If we hadn’t woken up married…or not married, whatever, would you ever have given me a shot? Given me a first date?”

  Her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Would you ever have asked?”

  “No,” I responded as honestly as I could.

  Her face fell, and the pain I saw there ripped another seam in my heart.

  “I never would have asked because I knew I wasn’t good enough for you. I knew I could never make you happy or give you the things you were accustomed to. I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about social acceptance and an easy relationship.”

  “I don’t need any of that,” she countered, her voice breaking at the end. “I just need you.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “You see, I would have given you the first date,” she continued with a little laugh. “I did. Remember? I wanted you so desperately that I bought you at that charity auction. I couldn’t stand the thought of another woman touching you.” She shook her head. “Did you lie to me when you told me that you would have bought me, too?”

  “Lie? I’ve never lied to you. I meant every word of it. Fuck, even the thought of someone putting their hands on you…kissing you…” My jaw clenched. “But I was prepared to watch you date someone else—hell, marry someone else because I knew that I could only bring you pain, and that’s all I’ve done since this thing started.”

  She startled. “You’ve been tender, and kind, and protective, and everything I could ever want. You haven’t hurt me.”

  “I punched out one of your oldest friends this morning and embarrassed your entire family—including you,” I reminded her.

  “Oh. Right. That.” She huffed a laugh. “Well, Michael is an ass.”

  “You’ve seen the online gossip since this morning. I know you have.” The shit with Michael had gone public fast, and the worst part is that every article dragged Persephone into it.

  Was she saddling herself with a violent man?

  Was Charleston’s belle of the ball married to a man who would eventually find himself behind bars?

  Was I a domestic violence case waiting to happen?

  Every headline had been worse than the last.

  “I’ve seen them, and I don’t care.” She shrugged.

  “You don’t care?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been tabloid gossip since I can remember, and though I’ve tried my best not to give them much fodder, Andromeda’s antics have taught our family to roll our eyes and move on.”

  “Right, but marrying me—for real this time—would give them that fodder you tried so hard not to.”

  “Okay.” />
  My stomach sank. I was going to drag her very good name through the mud. The name that got her the job as the head of the charitable foundation and opened doors into a society that I had thought only existed in movies.

  “Cannon, those reporters don’t know you. They don’t know what you’ve suffered for your family. Or how much of your salary you give to the women’s shelter downtown. Or that your favorite book is Wuthering Heights.”

  I balked. “My favorite book is not Wuthering Heights.”

  She grinned. “I know. Because you’d never stand by and watch the woman you loved marry someone else. I remember. I was just checking to see if you were listening.”

  “That stuff isn’t anything the world needs to know about me. I don’t want people talking shit about you because I can’t contain my temper.”

  “I’ve never cared much what strangers think about me,” she said with a whisper. “I know the truth. I know the man you really are.”

  Did she? Had I shown her the best and the worst of me while we’d been married. Married. The ring on my finger mocked me. It was a fucking tease.

  The silence stretched between us to the soundtrack of the band in our ballroom next door.

  “We’re not really married.” The words tasted like sand.

  “I know. I still can’t believe it, but I know.”

  “We can call this whole thing off,” I offered slowly. “We were only doing it to make your mom happy.”

  “But we ended up making ourselves happy, didn’t we?” She brushed her finger along mine.

  I couldn’t lie to her. “We did. But I don’t think it’s the kind of happiness that lasts.”

  The door opened, and a crack of light filled the room as Mrs. VanDoren walked in. “You two! I swear, you can’t stay away from each other!”

  “We just needed a minute, Mama,” Persephone replied.

  “Well, you have exactly one minute, and then I’ll be back in here. Cannon, your job is to stay and entertain this rowdy lot as long as they’d like to dance.”