Page 49 of Play Maker

I busy myself with plating bacon like it’s the most complicated task on earth.

Jade shrugs her coat off and hangs it by the door. “One tray has pancakes, fresh rolls, and apple butter, and the other tray is full of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes.”

Skinner slides a pancake onto my plate and whispers, “You should eat up, Grimes. You’ve got a big day of avoiding eye contact ahead.”

I cut a piece, jaw tight, and say nothing.

Chapter10

And We Love

Lo

Ihear my door creak open. Soft steps. Just one set of them. It’s Mom.

She doesn’t knock. She never does when she’s bringing something—a habit left over from when we were little and sick, or heartbroken, or both. I hear the softclinkof a mug on my nightstand. I fight the urge to open my eyes. Because if I do, she’ll read me like a map. Like she always does. And I’m not ready for her to find the landmarks that screamhe slept here.

She doesn’t say anything for a second, then, quietly, “You don’t have to fake sleep, honey.”

My jaw clenches. I open one eye. Then the other.

She’s sitting on the edge of my bed now, coffee in her hands and that knowing look she only pulls out when she’s halfway between mother and mind-reader. But this time? She doesn’t press.

“I came to let you know the boys are staying either here or with Beau and Sydney,” she says, calm and efficient. “One of the tech girls is coming out of retirement to help with everything. She’s bringing family, and I’d rather not mix chaos with security protocols.”

I blink at her. “Tech?”

“Her name’s Greer,” she says. “Single. Twenty-seven. Pregnant.”

My brain stutters. “Wait—he’s pregnant?”

“She,” Mom corrects gently. “And yes. She also has custody of her nephew, Micah. He’s eighteen and repeating his senior year here. And his little sister Evie is five.”

I sit up slowly, the sheet dragging against my skin. “That’s a lot.”

“She calls them her niece and nephew,” she says. “Her cousin … well, the kids are where they need to be.”

That part hangs heavy, but I don’t press because this is a matter of the heart, and Mom, she’s all heart.

She looks tired but grounded, like her hands are full and her heart’s doing that complicated thing it does when she’s caring for people, going all-in.

“Are you okay?” I ask, voice quieter than I meant.

She smiles. Not big but real. “Yeah, of course.”

I nod as I reach for the coffee and scoot over. She moves beside me, and we just sit there, shoulder to shoulder, watching the snow fall and sharing a cup of coffee.

“Do you ever miss our lives before?”

“I miss my kids being home, in my arms, in a walker scooting around, all four of you under one roof.”

“I mean, before money became an issue?”

She laughs softly, “Oh, Lauren, money was an issue then, too. But I can tell you”—she sighs—“sometimes having less felt more.”

“I’ll take this over when Luke left for the Army.”

She smiles. “Or when Riley dated that piece of trash. Or Jackson started his wandering.”

---