Page 32 of The Secret Play

My heart twisted in my chest. Winnie didn’t know why we were meeting Casey, didn’t know anything about the thunderous storm of questions in my head. That was my job. Not hers. To her, he was just the nice man I’d mentioned once or twice—the man who made me smile in a way she hadn’t seen before.

“I think he’ll love it,” I said, brushing a stray curl out of her face.

I spotted Casey before Winnie did. He was walking toward us, his hands tucked into his pockets and his breath visible in the cool air. His eyes found mine almost immediately, and he smiled, the kind of smile that made me forget the world for a second. My nerves eased, just a little. Whatever happened today, at least I knew Casey cared about me. That much was clear.

“Hey, Gemma,” he said as he approached, his voice warm and steady. His gaze shifted to Winnie, and he crouched slightly, lowering himself to her level. “And who’s this?”

“This is Winnie,” I said, my voice catching slightly. “Winnie, this is Casey.”

“Hi,” she said shyly, clutching her drawing to her chest.

“Hi, Winnie,” Casey said, his tone gentle. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

She hesitated for a moment, then held out her drawing. “It’s a picture. Do you like it?”

Casey studied it like it was a priceless piece of art, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Are you kidding? This is amazing. You’ve got real talent.”

Winnie beamed, her shyness evaporating. “Really?”

“Really. You know, I’ve always wished I could draw, but I’m terrible at it. My stick figures look like trees.” When she giggled at that, I would have sworn he gulped. He was nervous, too, and that made me like him even more. He went on, “You’ll have to give me some tips.”

She giggled again, and my chest tightened. Watching them interact was almost too much. Casey was natural with her—kind, patient, and genuinely interested in what she had to say. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was not this.

“All right, kiddo,” Casey said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “What’s next? Swings? Jungle gym? Monkey bars?”

“Swings!” Winnie shouted, already running toward them.

Casey grinned at me, shrugging out of his jacket. “Looks like I’ve got my orders.”

“Wait. She forgot her jacket again. Winnie, your?—”

“I’ve always been like that too. Hated wearing a hat or a jacket as a kid and gloves? Forget about it. Bet she doesn’t like it when you slather sunblock on her either, right?”

I snorted at that. A memory of the last beach trip before we left LA sprang to mind. “She hates it. Squirms away.”

He smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Can you keep an eye on this for me?” He passed me a ring he always wore on his thumb. “It was my dad’s, and I don’t think I can climb monkey bars wearing it, and if we hang upside down, it’ll fall out of my pocket.”

“I’d be happy to.” I tucked the ring into my purse.

Then he was off, jogging after Winnie with a lightness I hadn’t expected. I watched as he caught up with her, lifting her effortlessly onto the swing and giving her a gentle push. Her laughter echoed across the park, clear and bright, and something deep inside me started to crack.

For the next hour, Casey and Winnie were inseparable. He chased her around the jungle gym, caught her at the bottom of the slide, and even climbed the monkey bars with her, his grin never fading.

For every activity, he made a big show of her being better at it than him, and she ate it up. By the time they returned to the picnic bench, Winnie was practically glowing, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her energy spent.

“Mommy, Casey’s the best,” she said, flopping onto the bench next to me. “Can we play with him again tomorrow?”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

“I can make time to play with you again. Your mom will help us out.””

She beamed. “Okay, Casey.”

It was less emotionally fraught than calling him Dad.

He sat across from me, his thick gray hair slightly disheveled and his face lit with the kind of joy that was impossible to fake. I couldn’t tell who had had a better time. “She’s got a lot of energy.”

“She wears me out most days,” I admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of Winnie’s face. “But it looks like you kept up pretty well.”

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