Page 31 of The Secret Play

The sting of his words settled in my chest, and I forced myself to nod. This wasn’t personal. It was business. If I needed to evolve, whatever that meant, I could do that. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to shake things up. Try new plays, new strategies. Remind the fans why they love this team. Bring some excitement back to the ice.”

“All right. I’ll work on it.”

“Good man,” Matthew said, clapping his hands together. “Now, on to more important matters.”

I raised an eyebrow, bracing myself. “More important than the Fire?”

“The Penguins,” he said.

I blinked, certain I’d misheard. I did just hear him say penguins, didn’t I? “Come again?”

“The Penguins,” he repeated, his grin widening. “I’ve been thinking about rebranding the team. The Atlanta Penguins has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious. I smiled to let him know I thought he was funny. Half the time, all he wanted in the world was someone else to be in on all his jokes. “You’re funny today, huh?”

“Not at all,” he said cheerfully. “Penguins are charismatic, resilient, and universally beloved. We will buy the name from Pittsburgh, paint penguins all over the city, add a penguin exhibit to the aquarium?—”

“Matthew,” I interrupted, struggling to keep my voice calm. “Atlanta is known for its heat and passion. That’s why we’re the Fire. Penguins have nothing to do with Atlanta.”

“They will if I say they do,” he said with a wink. “I can sell anything to anyone, Casey. And I’ve got the money to back it up.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to process the absurdity of the conversation. “Atlanta won’t accept Penguins in exchange for Fire. We are all about heat and passion here?—”

“Precisely.” He smiled, and his eyes narrowed on me. “So, show me some of that heat and passion on the ice this year, and I’ll drop the Penguin idea. Otherwise, you’re out. Deal?”

So not only the team’s name, but my job was on the line as well. Fan-fucking-tastic. But I had no other choice than to accept his terms. He was the boss, and even though I was under contract, Matthew would happily buy it out if he wanted a new coach to come on.

I gave him the only answer I had to give. “Deal.”

He stood up with a grunt. “Stop living at the arena, Casey. Get out there and find your fire.”

With that, he was gone, leaving me alone with a head full of questions with no answers. When I thought of my fire, Gemma’s perfect face came to mind. Maybe that was my answer.

As absurd as Matthew’s penguin pitch had been, his words about passion lingered long after he’d left. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as I let my thoughts spiral. Had I really gotten too comfortable? Had I let my methods—and my love for the game—stagnate?

My thoughts drifted, unbidden, again to Gemma. There was something about her that reminded me why I’d fallen in love with hockey in the first place—something about her warmth, her curiosity, her way of seeing the world that made me feel alive again. Maybe Matthew wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe it was time to stop playing it safe and start rediscovering the fire.

Maybe she could help me. There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 12

Gemma

The park was quiet for a Saturday afternoon, the crisp autumn air keeping most people inside. Leaves swirled in lazy spirals across the grass, and the distant sound of children laughing floated over from the playground. I tightened my scarf around my neck, glancing at Winnie, who was busy organizing her crayons into a rainbow on the picnic table next to me.

I’d spent the entire morning second-guessing my plan. Introducing Casey to Winnie was a big step—the step, really—and I wasn’t sure I was ready. But I also knew I couldn’t keep putting it off. If Casey was who I thought he was—if he was Red—then this meeting would tell me everything I needed to know.

Was he the kind of man who could be a father to my daughter? Did I want him to be? I hoped I was doing the right thing. But does anyone really ever know when it’s the right time to introduce their daughter to her father when he doesn’t even know that he is?

When did my life get so complicated?

“Mommy, I’m done!” Winnie called, holding up her drawing with a triumphant grin. It was a scribbly masterpiece of trees, a sun, and what I assumed was me holding her hand.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” I said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “You’re such a good artist.”

“Do you think Casey will like it?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

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