22. Gemma
Chapter 22
Gemma
“ O h.”
That was my boss’ reaction upon learning I couldn’t do the article on Casey’s illegitimate child.
Damn, I hated that phrase. As if my baby girl wasn’t legitimate somehow.
Sitting in Gordon’s office, I took a beat to collect myself. He was doing the same. I sipped my coffee to stall for time, but eventually, it was too awkward not to speak. “So, that’s why I can’t write the story about Casey McConnell. Professionally, it’s an ethical conflict. Personally, it’s too close to home. I’m sorry for the inconvenience?—”
He huffed a laugh. “The inconvenience? Gemma, this goes beyond that.”
I swallowed hard, bracing myself. “I’m sorry, Gordon. I know this is unprofessional?—”
“Stop,” he said, cutting me off. “You don’t need to apologize.”
I blinked, stunned into silence.
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” he continued. “But I get it. We’re just getting to know each other, so there’s no reason you would have told me.”
“Right, but I should have the moment I realized who he was. I’m too close to the team, too compromised to cover them. I’m sorry.”
“Not another apology. Gemma, I was thrilled to use your connections to the team through your brother. Your child’s father is just another link. Given the circumstances, yeah, you’re compromised, so this isn’t something you can cover objectively.”
I almost apologized out of instinct, but he was right. I couldn’t keep apologizing about this. I wasn’t sorry about being connected to Casey or having Winnie. I was just sorry I had made things ethically impure. “Okay.”
“More importantly, I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Relief washed over me, and I exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
“That said,” he added, his tone shifting, “I think it’s best if we give you some distance from the Fire. At least for a while. Until things settle down.”
“What?”
“It’s not a punishment,” he said quickly. “It’s just…you know you’re too close to this, Gemma. We can’t have a conflict of interest, especially on something this huge. We can’t risk compromising your credibility—or the site’s.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself. Deep down, I knew he was right.
“What would you want me to cover instead?” I asked finally, my voice small.
“The college beats,” he said. “It’s a solid assignment. Less pressure, less scrutiny. You can still write great stories for us.”
I bit my lip, fighting back the frustration bubbling in my chest. “I appreciate the consideration, Gordon. I really do. But I can still cover the Fire. I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you could,” he said gently. “But this is for the site. We have to maintain our credibility, and if or when this gets out, your articles will be combed over, scrutinized, picked apart…it’s going to be an issue. So, let’s put you on the college beats for now. You’re too good to lose, Gemma, and I need you to trust me on this.”
There was no arguing with him. I nodded. “I get it. You’re right.”
“Please take care of yourself and your little girl. I’m worried this is going to get ugly before things calm down. You know how people are, especially hockey fans. They have a way of obsessing that puts other fans to shame.”
I wanted to argue, but there was no point. I knew he was right.
The drive home felt endless. My thoughts swirled like a storm, replaying the conversation with Gordon over and over. I’d been taken off the Fire beat—the one thing that had made me feel grounded, connected, capable—and now, I felt untethered.
By the time I walked through the door, my chest was tight, and my eyes burned with the threat of tears. I was halfway to the couch when a knock at the door startled me.
I opened it to find Nico standing there, his jaw tight and his expression unreadable. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” I said, stepping aside.
He walked in, his movements stiff and deliberate, and I could feel the tension radiating off him. “We need to talk.”
I nodded slowly, motioning for him to sit, but he remained standing, his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s going on?”
“Is Winnie here?”
“Daycare.”
“Good,” he said, his tone morose. “How long has that been going on?”
“How long has what?—”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my fucking face, Gemma. You and Coach. How long has it been going on?”
I hesitated, my stomach twisting. I could have lied, but it would have been wrong. My new boss knew the truth, but I hadn’t told my brother. That didn’t sit right with me. “It’s…recent.”
“Recent,” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “And Winnie? How long have you known she’s his?”
“Nico, it’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me,” he said, his voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been keeping a hell of a secret from me.”
“I didn’t know, Nico. Not at first. I didn’t even know his name that night, we kept our masks on?—”
He winced. “I heard. Go on.”
“I made the decision to keep Winnie, to raise her on my own. I didn’t think?—”
“You didn’t think what?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing.
“I didn’t think he needed to know, whoever he was,” I said, my voice trembling. “What man wants to hear they got their one-night stand pregnant, Nico?”
“Guess we’ll never know.”
“Don’t do that. You tell me what you’d do if you got that call from a hookup. Tell me how happy you’d be to hear that out of some girl whose name and face you didn’t even know.”
He glanced away. “It’d be hard?—”
I laughed sharply. “Hard?”
“But I’d deal.”
“Right. You’d deal. Perfect Nico Grimaldi, always making the right choices. Always the good guy?—”
“Stop, Gem,” he said quietly. “This doesn’t need to be a fight.”
“Fine. I didn’t think he’d want to know. And I was scared. I was scared of what he’d say, of what he’d do. Maybe he’d hate Winnie or me or worse. Maybe he’d want custody…so I kept it to myself.”
He stared at me, his jaw tight and his fists clenched at his sides. “And now? What’s your excuse for lying to me about this since you knew?”
“I needed to tell Casey first. She’s his child, and Casey is your coach, so telling you first would have been wrong.”
“I’m only your brother, so I don’t count?”
“You know what I mean.”
He exhaled loudly. “When did you tell him?”
“Last night.”
Nico’s shoulders sagged slightly, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more complicated—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. I hated this so much. Disappointing Nico made my stomach knot up. “I don’t know what to think, Gemma. I’ve always thought the world of Coach. He’s been there for me. He’s been like a father to me.”
“I know.”
“After Dad had his stroke, you remember what it was like. That weird lost feeling…”
I did. I remembered it well. We’d both been confused and lost after Dad’s stroke, and Nico had had to step up to handle not just the household, but Dad’s care, too. Initially, we tried to take care of him ourselves. It didn’t go well.
I half smiled at the memory. “Do you remember that first time you tried to make oatmeal for him?”
He chuckled. “You mean when I almost burned the house down?”
I laughed, too. Mimicking his voice, I said, “It was only a small fire.”
“I didn’t know what else to tell the firefighters.” He grinned. But that grin slowly died. “I know it’s self-serving to say it, but after the fire, I knew we couldn’t take care of him at home.”
Initially, it had been a sore spot between us, but I was young and na?ve, and I’d thought all we had to do was figure out how to cook. But the fire highlighted how wrong I’d been. It wasn’t just oatmeal. It was physical therapy, speech therapy, bathing my father…I couldn’t be at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I wasn’t a nurse. I didn’t know what I was doing. Neither did Nico. Thankfully, he’d been a hell of a college athlete and caught the eye of the talent scouts and ended up on the Atlanta Fire.
It was the only reason we had the money for the assisted living facility.
“I know we couldn’t take care of him.”
“You’re not still mad at me for it?”
I shook my head. “I was an angry kid. I’m sorry for what I said back then.”
He nodded. “It’s all good. I’m not…we don’t need to rehash that. Ancient history. Right now, I’m still not sure about Coach.” Nico’s anger tightened his face. “He’s been sneaking around with my baby sister. He’s the father of my niece?—”
“He didn’t know,” I said quickly. “None of this is his fault, Nico. I didn’t give him the chance to step up. I didn’t give him the choice.”
“That stuff isn’t his fault, but breaking the team’s rules is. There are rules about this kind of thing for the team, and that includes Coach. You can’t fraternize with players or their families, it’s just not done.”
My knotted stomach flipped. “Will he lose his job?”
“I don’t know.” He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I just…I don’t know how to feel. I’m angry. I’m disappointed. But more than anything, I’m surprised.”
I bit my lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “He’s a good man, Nico. I know you don’t believe that right now, but he is. He cares about me, and he cares about Winnie. He’s just…overwhelmed.”
Nico studied me for a long moment. “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I really don’t know.” I couldn’t hold the tears back this time.
My big brother crossed the room and held me while I cried. After I calmed down, he mumbled into my hair, “This is messy.”
“Yeah.”
“He took advantage?—”
“Absolutely the fuck not. Don’t do that. There was no imbalance of power between us, no deceit other than me keeping Winnie’s paternity a secret. He did nothing wrong to me, Nico.”
He drew a deep breath. “Gem, you’re my baby sister. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around all of this.”
“Take all the time you need, but don’t act like he’s some asshole who hurt me. He’s not.”
He slowly nodded, his lips tightening in frustration. “Right. You good?”
“One day, I will be.”
When Nico left, the house felt unbearably quiet. I sat on the couch, staring at the ring Casey had left behind. I didn’t know what the future held. But for the first time, I was beginning to understand just how much I had to lose.