4. Gemma - 5 Years Later
Chapter 4
Gemma - 5 Years Later
T he humid Atlanta air clung to my skin as I watched the moving truck pull away from my new house.
They had left behind a driveway full of boxes and furniture that still needed arranging. Well, at least the weather was starting to cool down.
My new neighborhood wasn’t too far from where I grew up.
The street was lined with trees just beginning to turn to their autumn colors, and the house—a modest two-bedroom bungalow with peeling shutters that I’d already planned to repaint—felt worlds away from our cramped apartment we’d left behind in L.A.
I hoisted a small table to my hip, ready to get a move on. But then Nico’s voice rang out, “Don’t lift that—your back is garbage!”
I turned to see my older brother jogging up the driveway, his tall frame balancing two chairs stacked awkwardly in his arms. He had the same easy confidence he’d always carried, even if his gait was a little slower these days.
At thirty-five, Nico Grimaldi was nearing the end of his contract with the Atlanta Fire, but he still had the same charm—and the same protective streak—that he’d wielded like a weapon since we were kids.
“You’re not exactly a spring chicken yourself,” I shot back, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorframe. “Be careful with that. Wouldn’t want you to strain something and not be able to sing.”
“Don’t worry, Gem, I’m a professional,” he said, grinning as he set the chairs down inside the house. “You’re the one I gotta worry about.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. Nico had convinced me to come back to Atlanta, after years of me insisting I’d be fine on my own in Los Angeles.
And I had been, but fine wasn’t enough anymore.
Not with my daughter Winnie starting school soon and rent skyrocketing out of reach.
Atlanta wasn’t just more affordable. It was family. It was Nico.
And for the first time in years, it felt like home.
“Where’s Winnie?” Nico asked, his voice softening.
“Inside,” I said. “She’s helping Megan unpack her toys.”
“Megan’s a saint,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No way I’m stepping into the whirlwind that is your four-year-old.”
“You mean your delightful four-year-old niece,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
He grinned. “Sure. Delightful.”
Before I could respond, Megan appeared at the door, her face flushed but smiling as her glossy chocolate bob swung side to side in front of her eyes. She’d packed on muscle in my absence, and I was glad she was hitting the gym to burn off her nervous energy. Her job was sedentary—a work-from-home medical scheduler—and she had never been one for sitting still. Sitting still only worsened her anxiety.
Megan O’Reilly had been my best friend since elementary school, and though she’d stayed in Atlanta when I moved across the country, we’d never lost touch. She was the kind of friend who showed up when you needed her, no matter what.
“Gemma, your kid just made me an imaginary smoothie in her toy kitchen and tried to charge me five bucks,” she said, laughing.
“What flavor?”
“I am a pineapple and mustard person, according to her,” Megan said, wrinkling her nose.
Nico snorted, and I couldn’t help laughing as Megan joined us outside, brushing her hands off on her jeans. Nico stared with too much interest as she straightened herself out, so I smacked his arm. I knew that look of his, and the thought of my brother and my best friend together was too much.
He cleared his throat and smiled. “Better than the shrimp and gravy one she offered me.”
Megan grimaced. “Guess I lucked out.”
“Where’s your cavalry?” I asked Nico, nodding toward the driveway.
“They’ll be here, don’t worry. So, Megan, been a long time since I’ve seen you.”
“That’s your own fault, Grimaldi,” she said, hands on her hips. Her minty green eyes flicked up and down over him. “I’ve been here the whole time, but you’re too much of a big shot these days to keep in contact with the little people.”
He smirked. “You’re not the little people, O’Reilly. You’re something special.”
I didn’t like that one bit.
“So, anyway,” I said, sharply cutting their sexual tension that made me want to barf. “When did you say the guys are coming here?—”
“Guys?” Megan brightened at the thought.
“Eh, now,” he said, gesturing to three massive SUVs pulling up in front of my house.
As a dozen of the Atlanta Fire’s best hopped out of the vehicles, Nico quickly introduced us and by the end of it, I’d forgotten most of their names.
I knew a couple of them from before I’d left—Beau, Victor, and Sergei—but the rest were a blur.
It was less than a minute before they were hauling boxes and furniture like it was a pre-season training drill. As soon as Winnie came out of her room to make me an asparagus and lime smoothie, she saw the players and jumped up and down, clapping. “Uncle Nicos!”
Nico laughed and scooped her up in his arms. “That’s right. It’s a whole fleet of Uncle Nicos to help get you all moved in.”
“Yay!” Winnie had always been that way. As much as I tried to drill stranger danger into my kiddo, she had never met a stranger in her life. When the guys passed by her, she greeted them with the poise of a Disney princess high on too much candy. A couple of the guys ruffled her red pigtails as they worked, and she basked in the attention.
It worried me.
Any of the players who were on the team five years ago could have been her father.
Being back home had made me paranoid.
I had never asked Nico if any of the players hadn’t worn a navy tux that night. I didn’t want to know, and I didn’t want him to suspect anything—it would have been a weird question to ask.
As far as he knew, her father was a one night stand that left me with a present. I didn’t tell him when it happened, because telling him would have opened up a can of worms.
The truth was, her father was probably one of the hospital employees. My kid was whip smart, so he was a doctor or a lawyer in my imagination. Had to be.
Not that a hockey player couldn’t be smart, but it seemed more likely to be one of the other men at the event. For that matter, he could have been some society douchebag who didn’t like going to events.
Or I was just kidding myself and her father was standing in my house right now.
I put the thought out of my mind to focus on the present. We were rebuilding our lives in Atlanta, and I’d never see her father again, so the whole thing was moot. Life had moved on while I was gone.
Megan had a new career that she liked and which let her stay home so she didn’t have the stress of leaving her house. Nico had made himself a family in my absence, even if that family was technically his coworkers.
They seemed to be a good group. The guys apologized when they cursed in front of Winnie, and one of them shooed me away from moving an end table and took it himself. It was sweet, but it also made me feel like I should be paying them.
“You didn’t have to drag them into this,” I told Nico.
“They volunteered,” he said, waving me off. “They owe me for all the times I covered for their asses on the ice.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” I said. “I was going to hire movers, but this is…better.”
“You mean cheaper,” Megan teased, nudging me.
“There’s that,” I admitted.
“And it’s a good show.”
“That, too.” We watched as the guys got hot and sweaty, moving everything into the house. It was fun to boss them around, but a little awkward. But being a single mom meant I had to take all the free help I could get.
By the time the last box was unloaded, dishes were stored, and the furniture was mostly where it needed to be, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting a steamy glow over the neighborhood.
I’d baked cookies as a thank you, so I brought the tray out to the front porch where they hung out, and Megan delivered lemonade and milk.
“Cookies?” Beau asked, his eyes lighting up as I handed him the tray.
“Yeah, cookies!” Winnie sang out as she reached for one from Nico’s lap.
“Freshly baked chocolate chip,” I said as I passed the tray around. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Coach wouldn’t like it if we cheat on our diets,” Nico said, grabbing one anyway.
“Your coach sounds like a pain in the ass,” I said, grinning.
“He is,” Nico admitted around a mouthful of cookie. “But he improved our game, so his methods work.”
“Better how?” I asked, curious despite myself. The other guys helped themselves to cookies, and Megan flirted with every one of them as she passed out drinks.
Nico was distracted by that, his eyes on her as he told me, “He’s tough, but fair. He’s got this way of holding us accountable without making us feel like we’re getting lectured. And he knows the game, inside and out. Guy’s a walking hockey encyclopedia. Can’t imagine the Fire without him.”
Nico was always talking about his coach when I asked him about work, and every time, it made me wonder about him and how much he missed Dad. I shoved the thought away.
“You sound like you admire your coach.”
“I do. He’s earned everyone’s respect. I’d call him the hardest worker on the team, but our trainer probably takes that title,” Nico explained.
“Esai is slave driver,” Sergei said, his Russian accent hitting hard. “Good man.”
Megan lit up at the thought. “So, you like being worked hard?”
“Megan,” I hissed as a warning, jerking my head toward Winnie.
“What?” she said as faux-innocently as possible. “It was just a question.”
“Right.”
Nico looked perturbed, but as soon as Winnie passed him another cookie, the frown subsided. “You should meet him.”
“Who?”
“Coach.”
“Why?”
“For your new job. Interviewing the head coach of the Atlanta Fire? That’d be a hell of a way to kick things off.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You think he’d agree to it?”
“I can make it happen,” Nico said. “Coach likes me.”
“Debatable,” Megan muttered under her breath, earning a laugh from Sergei.
I looked at Nico and thought it over. My new job as a sports writer for a major outlet in Atlanta was a fresh start, a chance to rebuild my career closer to family. And an interview with the Fire’s head coach—someone who’d taken a team with a mixed reputation and turned them into serious contenders—would be a huge get. They’d even won the Stanley Cup since he joined the team. I couldn’t say no to that.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Let’s do it.”
Nico grinned, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.