Page 68 of The Secret Play

I bit my lip, my chest tightening. “So much.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice hardening. “Like how you didn’t think I was worth being a father back then? How you decided for me that I didn’t deserve to know my daughter? What has changed since then?” His words stung, but I couldn’t blame him. He was right to be angry.

“Everything has changed since then, and you know it.”

He shrugged. “Do I?”

“I was wrong about you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “I was scared, Casey. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know your name! And by the time I figured it out, I thought it was too late. But everything’s changed now. You have changed everything.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. “You think that makes it better?”

“No. It makes it worse,” I admitted, tears stinging my eyes. “But I’m trying, Casey. I’m trying to make it right.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his silver hair. “Gemma, I can’t…I can’t do this right now.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I need time,” he said, his voice tired. “Time to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life, with my career, with you.”

“I understand.” I did and I didn’t. He was hurting, and I wanted to do anything I could to fix it. But when someone asked for time, that meant they were figuring a way out, not a way in. My heart stuttered to a stop from grief. But I refused to make it his problem. I swallowed my tears down and vowed not to make him feel badly about this.

“It’s not just my career on the line. I know you used your position as Nico’s sister to secure your new job, so this puts your career at risk, too. I can’t have that. You’re a hell of a journalist, Gemma. You deserve more than what I?—”

I pressed a finger to his lips. If he had, I would have lost it right then and there. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please.”

He reached out, his hand brushing mine. “It’s not about not wanting you. It’s about not knowing how to have you without losing everything else. I can’t think around you. All I want to do is more of…well, this. Because we’re good at this, and the other stuff…I haven’t figured it out yet. I have to ask you to leave.”

Tears blurred my vision as I stood, clutching the sheet around me like a shield. “Okay.” I grabbed my clothes and some of his on my way out. Dressing while casually fleeing was not a skill I had, so I pulled on his T-shirt and my heavy sweater over it, and I did not care whatsoever if I looked undignified. My jeans went on next, followed by his socks and my shoes. By the time I was dressed, I must have looked exactly like a woman who had the hell fucked out of her and back into her.

He walked me to the door, his hand lingering on the knob as he opened it. “Take care of yourself, Gemma.”

“You too,” I said, my voice breaking.

And then I was gone, stepping out into the cool night air with my heart burning to ashes in my chest.

Chapter 27

Casey

Asking Gemma to leave was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her echoed in my head long after she was gone. Everything echoed, now that she was gone. My thoughts. The ticking clock on the wall. I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The weight of empty silence was unbearable.

I’d buried both of my parents in relatively quick succession. I’d stood at their graves and said my goodbyes, feeling like the foundation of my world had been pulled out from under me. Somehow, this felt just as bad. How was that even possible?

I loved her, right down to my marrow.

That thought circled in my mind, a vulture soaring over the corpse of my ability to think about anything else. I loved Gemma. I loved everything about her. I loved her fierce independence. That was what kept her going in LA as a single mom, doing everything on her own for five years.

As much as I hated that she had kept me from my daughter that whole time, I knew it was no cakewalk for her, either. She was alone for all the milestones. Had to do everything herself. Be everything by herself. She was all Winnie had. I couldn’t imagine that kind of pressure or how hard that must have been on her.

And yet, the pressure didn’t show itself in bitterness or resentment. She was still warm. Still easy-going. The little things didn’t bother her the way they did most people. Instead of becoming aggrieved, she turned that energy into warmth for everyone around her. She was friendly and outgoing in a way I admired. And she had a way of making people feel like they were worth knowing, a gift in her line of work.

And Winnie—God, Winnie. She was bright and funny and sweet, and the thought of all the years I’d missed with her was enough to bring me to my knees. I didn’t know how to get past that loss, or if it was even possible to get past something like that.

And that was my flaw.

Love wasn’t enough right now to push me past that pain, which meant I wasn’t enough for them right now. Holding onto that anger made me weak, and they didn’t deserve that. I didn’t know how to be what they needed me to be, and the uncertainty was eating me alive.

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