Page 29 of The Secret Play

But now, with this hanging over me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my choices were about to catch up with me.

For better or worse, Casey McConnell was in our lives now.

And I had no idea what to do about it.

Chapter 11

Casey

The door slammed open, and Whitney strode into my office, looking like a general charging into battle.

I barely had time to look up from the practice schedules scattered across my desk before she dropped a thick folder in front of me with an audible thud. “What’s all this?”

“Good morning, Casey,” she said briskly, not bothering to wait for an invitation to sit. She plopped herself into the chair across from me, her energy buzzing like she’d just downed three espressos. Knowing Whitney, she had.

“Morning, Whit,” I said, pushing aside the coffee I’d been nursing. “What’s got you so fired up?”

“This,” she said, flipping open the folder. “The interview with Gemma? It’s a hit. No, scratch that—it’s a home run. The press is eating it up.”

“Good,” I said cautiously, not quite ready to match her enthusiasm. I wasn’t sure if I ever could. She was younger than me and naturally intense. Everything Whitney did was done to the fullest. I admired that about her, but I also wondered whether she ever slept.

I scratched my head. “What kind of numbers are we talking about?”

“Big ones,” she said, her grin widening. “Website traffic is up nearly forty percent since the piece went live. Social media engagement? Through the roof. We’re even seeing a bump in ticket sales and merch. That woman is a miracle worker.”

“That’s great news.” The Fire had been slogging through a rough patch with the press for the past year, and any positive attention was a win.

“It’s not just great—it’s game-changing,” Whitney said, leaning forward, her elbows on my desk. “For the first time in a long time, people are excited about this team. They’re talking about us in a good way. We’re not a joke. They’re taking us seriously again. And it’s all thanks to that interview.”

I nodded, letting her words sink in. The piece had been good—Gemma had done a fantastic job capturing the heart of what we were trying to build here. But Whitney’s energy suggested there was more to this conversation than just a pat on the back.

“What else?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Whitney’s grin turned sharper like she’d been waiting for me to ask. “We need more.”

“More?”

“More Gemma,” she said bluntly. “She’s got a knack for this kind of storytelling, and the fans love it. I want her to have full access to the team.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I frowned, my arms tightening across my chest. “What exactly does ‘full access’ mean?”

“It means she spends time with the players,” Whitney explained. “Individual interviews, behind-the-scenes features, personal profiles. Anything that keeps fans engaged and invested. They need to see us as a draw to Atlanta, something to be proud of. They need more.”

I tried to keep my face neutral, but the thought of Gemma hanging around the locker room or chatting with the guys during downtime made my stomach twist.

I trusted her—of course, I did—but the idea of someone like Simon or Leo turning on the charm around her? It bugged me more than it should have. And they weren’t the only ones to worry about.

No one else knew about what was going on between me and Gemma, and dating her was playing with fire. It was so against the rules that I could lose my job over it. But how could I stop now?

The players would never hit on a woman who was involved. That was not the concern. My guys were completely ignorant of what was happening, which meant they’d have no reason not to hit on her.

And that was a problem.

They were all younger than me.

Simon and Leo were charmers, but they weren’t the only ones. The team was full of them. Handsome, younger men who made more money than me. Who had a bigger spotlight on them than me. I didn’t hold any of that against them. But in our circumstances, I didn’t like the thought of Gemma spending one-on-one time with any of them.

Especially Patrick. He was the unofficial team dad, one of the few guys they turned to (aside from myself) when it came to knowing how the world worked. At thirty-eight, he was ancient in the world of hockey. But Gemma had shown a predilection for older men by dating me. What would happen when she met another me, but younger, more handsome, and richer?

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