Page 96 of The Long Game

I went to my phone and picked it up off the counter. I opened my contacts but… my finger halted in the air. I could already see her face. Her brown eyes rolling back and her mouth formulating some smart remark about how impatient I was. Maybe she’d call me anonnaagain, just like she had the other day when I shoved more food on her plate without asking her first.

The corners of my lips tipped up and with a shake of my head I dropped the phone.

I really was an impatient bastard. But I didn’t care. I was too old and too set in my ways to change that. I didn’t think I could, either. Just like I couldn’t help the need to… take care of her. Especially when she didn’t herself. Or worse yet, when she didn’t expect anybody else to.

Willow and Pierogi dashing in the direction of the front door was the only sign I needed to know that Adalyn was home. Home. Warmth spread in my chest.

I faced the entrance of the kitchen, much like my cats had justdone, and waited silently for her to materialize. A trail of sweet mewing reached my ears, followed by the sound of Adalyn’s soft voice. Her voice always did that when she talked to them, and it fascinated me. I loved how close she was with them, and Willow in particular. Every time I found them curled up on the couch, I had to stop myself from… jumping in and begging her to pet me instead.

I was fucking ridiculous.

Her form popped up at the end of the hall, cheeks pink from the increasingly cold air. I watched her unzip the jacket I’d gotten for her, probably unaware I was there, gawking, all my attention captured by those hands I wanted on me. The jacket opened, revealing one of those silky, thin button-downs she loved so much. She was wearing it with jeans and boots. I’d bought every item of clothing on her except for that shirt and her underwear. And a part of me rebelled at the fact. I wanted to pamper Adalyn. Bury her in nice things I knew she could probably afford herself. I didn’t care.

“Hi,” she said, finally noticing me. Her cheeks filled with a different shade of pink, and her eyes trailed down my body. She did that a lot lately. Openly checked me out. And I fucking loved it. “Cameron?”

I swallowed. “I love your hair today.” I really did. It was down, wavy, free, not straightened or tight in some bun.

Adalyn’s lips bobbed. “I… Oh. Thank you.” She frowned. “You, um, looked… weird. As if you were about to sneeze. Or… hungry?” Her eyes widened. “Oh God, I’m super late, aren’t I?” She pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “Please, tell me I’m not too late and ruined dinner.”

The genuine worry in her face pushed me one step forward. I stilled myself. “You’re just in time,” I assured her, my voice sounding a little too rough still. “And I wasn’t about to sneeze. Or hungry. That was just my face.” Around you. Lately. Always. I’d need to work on it.

Her concern dissolved, giving way to that playfulness she had been showing me glimpses of these past days. “You still looked handsome,” she said in a small voice. “It smells great, by the way. Very excited to see what you’ve cooked.”

Enthralled, I watched her pad all the way to the kitchen island and take a seat. “How bad was it?”

A sigh came out of her lips. “Bad. It took Josie and I two rounds of milkshakes to cheer everyone up.”

My hand closed around the bottle of red wine I’d gotten on my way home from the game. I’d already set two glasses on the island. “Red?” I asked, the intimacy of the scene catching me by total surprise. A new kind of warmth spread across my chest. I… liked this. How this felt. I cleared my throat. “I also have a bottle of white chilling in the fridge.”

Her lips parted with a soft, “Oh.” And my gaze fastened on her mouth. “What is this for? I would hardly celebrate the outcome of the game, even if we didn’t lose.”

“You also deserve to be comforted, darling. It wasn’t just the girls not getting enough points to get to the final.”

Adalyn sighed. “Red is perfect. Thank you, Coach.”

I had to fight the urge to smile at her calling me that. Or growl, I wasn’t sure. “Don’t thank me just yet,” I murmured, and served her a glass. “So two rounds of milkshakes?”

“Yes. The girls were so devastated I started getting everything Josie had behind the counter. Nothing was left, not even Josie’s raisin cookies.” Her hand came around the stem of the glass. “I mean, we all knew that if we didn’t win this game against the New Mount Eagles we would only be able to fight for a third or fourth place. But I…” She averted her gaze, her lips closing around the brim and taking a long sip. “I don’t know.”

We had talked about this, long and hard. We’d established a strategy and the girls had entered that field today with a literal battle cry. Adalyn had gotten everything on camera. When we’d only managed another tie, I’d been ready to deal with the possible consequences that would have on Adalyn. I’d been prepared to weather a storm. Because I’d known just how badly Adalyn wanted—needed—the girls to get to that final that was no longer possible. But she’d been… okay. No. She’d been so concerned about the girls’ reaction that she hadn’t even shown disappointment herself. She’d put on a strong face.

It’d been impossibly hard not to kiss her in that moment.

It was impossible now. “Are you not a little devastated? You don’t need to act strong around me, love.”

Adalyn set the glass back on the island. “I’m disappointed. There was a lot at stake for me.” She frowned. “But no, I’m not devastated. Somehow. It was me who got their hopes up. I wanted this forthem.”

There was a lot at stake for me.

I knew that she had messed up in some way or another and was trying to redeem herself. But I was starting to believe that there was more than just that.

“What exactly was at stake for you?” I asked.

Adalyn shook her head. “You know what the Miami Flames sent me here for,” she said. And I knew. But I let her talk. Because now, I was certain I was missing something I’d overlooked. It was right there, in the way she wouldn’t look at me. Her shoulders tensed. “I know that the condition had never been to win but… Well, I just hoped we would. A win is always a win. And you can better sell a win to the press. People love winners, we all know that. But I still have a lot of material to work with. And I’m planning something big for that last game. No matter where we end up. This is still a success story.”

I frowned.The condition? Why would she say that instead of the goal or the milestone? But also… “There wasn’t any press at today’s game. Or the one before.” I specifically remembered her mentioning talking to local outlets. “Why?”

She brought the glass to her lips again. But I could tell it was to give herself time.

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