Page 96 of The Secret Play

“Morning,” I said, smirking. “Did you two sleep well?”

“Gemma,” Nico started, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Casey walked into the living room, crossing his arms and grinning. “Oh, it’sexactlywhat it looks like.”

Nico faux-glared at him. “You don’t get to talk. You snuck around with my sister behind my back for weeks, and now, you’re coming in after a sleepover. I should get at least one Get Out of Jail Free card for that.”

Casey raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Fair enough. But seriously, what’s going on here?”

“It was nothing,” Megan began.

I crossed my arms, my gaze darting between them. I wasn’t mad, but I had to be clear about the rules when it came to my daughter. “You two better not have done anything on my couch. Winnie’s in the next room and doesn’t need that kind of education. Or mental scarring.”

Megan’s eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly. “No! No, we didn’t do anything. We just…fell asleep watching a movie.”

Nico nodded, his expression earnest. “Yeah. After we put Winnie to bed, we started a movie, and we, uh…I guess we crashed.”

I studied them both for a moment, noting the way Nico avoided Megan’s gaze and how she tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit I’d seen a hundred times. Always around boys she liked.

There was tension between them, and it wasn’t the awkward kind that came from being caught in an innocent situation. It was the kind of tension that came from wanting something you weren’t sure you should want.

I decided to let it go—for now. “All right,” I said, waving them off. “But you’re on kitchen cleaning duty after you two dropped the ball on watching the kiddo this morning.”

Chapter 39

Casey

Iloved Gemma’s house. It was cozy and cheerful without feeling too small. But my daughter’s personality was big enough that they could have done with a bigger place.

Winnie’s drawings hung from the fridge with care. With Gemma’s relaxed way of looking at the world, I had the sense that I could make a mess, and it wouldn’t be a tragedy. But a certain amount of pride was taken in her home. Pictures on the walls were dusted and leveled, gathered together by theme. Everything had a place and was at least mostly tucked there. Even the baseboards sparkled, and that was something I neglected.

It wouldn’t be our long-term home, but I was glad to know my girls had a nice place for now. I planned to buy Gemma whatever house she wanted. All she had to do was point her little finger, and it was hers. But I’d let that be a wedding surprise. For now, I stood by, watching Gemma handle her household.

The smell of coffee mingled with the sugary sweetness of spilled cereal and milk, and it all felt so wonderfully… normal. For someone like me, who had spent so much of my life on the road, in arenas, or alone in my own place, this kind of normal was everything I’d ever wanted. A family made of people who spent time together because they enjoyed each other, not because of obligation.

My family in Maryland was all right for the most part, but two of my cousins had married people who did nothing but passive-aggressively speak to one another or gossip about each other. One was from Connecticut, the other from Philly. My uncle had confided that they reminded him why he didn’t like New Englanders, but I doubted that was how everybody in the tri-state areas acted. The sniping and backbiting made visiting a chore instead of something I looked forward to every year. Thankfully, there was none of that in Gemma’s house. I doubted there ever could be.

Winnie was at the counter, enthusiastically pouring various cereals into a massive mixing bowl. Cornflakes, granola, chocolate puffs, golden pops, fruity loops—it was all going in, and Gemma watched with a mixture of horror and amusement as her daughter crafted what she proudly dubbed “Winnie Mix.”

I tried not to fret about the health implications of her mix, but it was hard to turn off my coach's brain. “That is quite the recipe. Pretty sure she’s getting her daily allowance of artificial color.”

“She’s really committing to the bit.” Gemma folded her arms, shaking her head with an amused grin.

“She gets it from you,” I teased, kissing her temple.

Gemma rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

We each took a bowl, and I prayed the artificial colors wouldn’t ruin Winnie’s developing brain or Nico’s gains in the gym. He and Megan were seated at the table, looking marginally less awkward than earlier, though they still avoided eye contact whenever they could. Megan stirred her cereal creation, while Nico leaned back in his chair, pretending to check his phone between bites of Winnie’s Mix. Every once in a while, he stole a glance of Megan.

I kept waiting for him to turn on the charm like always, but he just kept silently pining. It was odd, to say the least. Nico Grimaldi had a reputation for a reason. He was a good-looking man, and women—especially puck bunnies—fawned over him. He could have any of them and had many times. But over a bowl of Frankenstein’s imagination, he clammed up like he couldn’t think of what to say to Megan.

She was a pretty girl, certainly, but I’d seen Nico with models draped on his arm. Rich women, thin women, full-figured women, old and young, they all wanted him. Megan, on the other hand, was picking at her breakfast like she’d eat it to make Winnie happy, but that was the only reason. Nico appeared to barely factor on her radar.

Until she spied him from her periphery and turned pink.

This mousy girl blushed like no one’s business. Had they hooked up last night? Or was it just a movie night, like they’d claimed? I wondered if we’d ever learn the truth.

I sat beside Gemma on the couch, my arm slung casually over her shoulders. The TV was on, tuned to a morning news show that was currently featuring a segment about last night’s game. Or at least, that was what I thought it was going to be about.

---