Page 64 of Play Maker

“I got this. I’m Lo.This is my mom, Jade,” I add, motioning beside me. “Mags, my cousin; Maggie, our grandma; and Riley?—”

“The one who will forever compare herself to you and feel like a failure,” Riley cuts me off.

“First trimester?” Greer asks, and Riley nods. “You’re doing good. I was in the field tossing my cookies before I even knew. It gets better.”

Riley sighs. “Your lips to God’s ears.”

Maggie steps forward with a smile that’s both welcoming and lightly interrogative. “You’re the tech girl, huh?”

Greer nods. “Been called worse.”

Mags, my bad-ass cousin, looks almost panicked. “No, that’s not what I?—”

“This thing’s not getting any lighter,” Micah says from behind us.

“Mic, manners,” Greer warns.

“We have brooding brothers—we get it,” I whisper and look back at Mags, now pissed at herself.

“That’s gonna be a problem,” Riley whispers.

“She’ll be all right.”

“You all right?” she whispers.

“What?” I ask.

She arches a brow as she passes me. “Just asking.”

Dammit!

We get through the usual small talk as we enter—where she’s from originally down state but moved to Rochester, what she does now. She avoids the before, she was settled into software development, mostly remote, but they called her in, and how far along she is twenty-six weeks, due in August. She says all of it like she’s reciting stats from a file.

“Evie baby, shoes off if you’re going inside!” Greer calls out as the girl bolts toward the stairs. The unicorn bounces once off the rail and lands in a planter.

“I’ve got her,” Mags says, already in motion, scooping up the unicorn and grinning at Evie.

“I can show you around,” I offer, tilting my head toward the door. “I mean, you’re not getting a spa or a smart fridge, but the water pressure’s decent, and the loft gets good light.”

Greer smiles again, softer this time. “Lead the way.”

Riley takes over and points out the important stuff—washer and dryer, the slightly sticky back door that requires a hip-check, the skylight that leaks if it starts raining and to let her know.

Greer nods, listening, running her hand over the banister like she’s already mapping where things will go. Micah trails behind, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. He doesn’t look at me once, but his gaze lands hard on the router she points out in the corner.

“Internet’s fast,” I say casually. “Fast enough to game or stream whatever soul-sucking content you’re into.”

Nothing, and then, “What’s the ping?”

I glance at him because I have no idea, but Greer must have heard, so she answers. “Was told fifteen, maybe eighteen. Wired in. No dead spots.”

Micah grunts. It’s not a thank you, but it’s notnotone.

Evie wanders into the living room and immediately sits cross-legged on the floor like it belongs to her. She starts humming again, louder this time, twisting the unicorn’s ear like a dial.

Greer glances over and smiles faintly. That smile doesn’t leave her eyes. There’s exhaustion there. Not just physical—something heavier. Worn-down edges. She looks content.

“This is great.”

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