Page 56 of The Secret Play

I had no defense, so I remained silent. He was right. The past aside, I had broken the rules. I had started seeing Gemma, knowing full well it was against the rules. I deserved whatever came next.

He shook his head in disgust. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”

And that hurt worse than any punishment my boss could dole out. Because Nico was right.

I’d been a different man since the moment I met Gemma all those years ago. Something had shifted in me after that night. I was more confident with women, more self-assured on the ice. Still played things safe, but I wasn’t afraid to do a little free-falling every now and then. And now that she was back in the picture, I had broken all the rules for her.

Gemma had changed me completely. But I had fallen for her. There was no excuse for how I’d gotten there, but maybe if he knew that, then he’d understand. “Nico, I?—”

Without another word, Nico turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

I sank into my chair. His words rang in my head. You’re not the man I thought you were. It wasn’t just Nico’s anger that stung—it was the truth behind it. I’d let him down. I’d let the team down. And worst of all, I’d let myself down. I didn’t regret anything with Gemma—I only regretted how I’d mishandled the situation.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, and Whitney stepped in, her expression worried. She leaned against the doorframe. “I tried.”

“Tried what?”

“To stop the rumor,” she said. “But it’s out of control, Casey. Everyone’s talking about it, and now that Nico ran off at the mouth and Gemma’s name is in the mix…”

I held up a hand, cutting her off. “I get it. This is bad.”

Whitney hesitated, then stepped closer. “Look, I know this is a mess, but you’ve got to fix it. The guys are pissed. Nico isn’t the only one who’s disappointed in you. It’s the team, and soon enough, it’ll be Matthew. You know how he feels about this kind of thing. That’s why it’s in everyone’s contracts. Family is off-limits.”

I nodded slowly. This really was going all the way to the top, whether I liked it or not. “I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I will.”

Whitney sighed, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. “You’d better. Because this team can’t afford to fall apart—not with the playoffs coming up. We might be up for the Cup, and you know as well as I do, nothing can stand in the way of that where Matthew is concerned.”

She left without another word, and I was alone again. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as the guilt churned in my chest.

Nico was right. They all were. I’d broken the rules. I’d let my feelings for Gemma cloud my judgment, and now the entire team was paying the price. Team cohesion was everything, and I’d been the one to tear it apart. How could I live with that?

As much as I hated myself for hurting the team, I couldn’t bring myself to regret what I’d done. Because the truth was, I loved her. I loved them both. Gemma was wonderful, and Winnie was amazing. How could anyone regret coming into their lives?

I didn’t know how to reconcile that happiness with the responsibilities I had toward the team. But somehow, I had to figure it out. If I didn’t, I was going to lose everything. I could survive losing my career. I had a good number of trophies under me and a clean track record. The professional coach-to-educational institution coach was alive and well. There were other opportunities, too. I just had to reach out and find them. Headhunters were always emailing me, calling me. Financially, I’d survive this.

But the team? Nico? I had to make things right with them. I just wasn’t sure how.

Chapter 22

Gemma

“Oh.”

That was my boss’ reaction upon learning I couldn’t do the article on Casey’s illegitimate child.

Damn, I hated that phrase. As if my baby girl wasn’t legitimate somehow.

Sitting in Gordon’s office, I took a beat to collect myself. He was doing the same. I sipped my coffee to stall for time, but eventually, it was too awkward not to speak. “So, that’s why I can’t write the story about Casey McConnell. Professionally, it’s an ethical conflict. Personally, it’s too close to home. I’m sorry for the inconvenience?—”

He huffed a laugh. “The inconvenience? Gemma, this goes beyond that.”

I swallowed hard, bracing myself. “I’m sorry, Gordon. I know this is unprofessional?—”

“Stop,” he said, cutting me off. “You don’t need to apologize.”

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