The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

24. Gemma

Chapter 24

Gemma

T he house was too quiet without him.

After Casey left, I sat on the couch, staring at the door like it might open again. Like he might come back, sweep me into his arms, and tell me everything would be okay.

But of course, he didn’t.

He didn’t have a key, so he couldn’t just barge in here. We hadn’t gotten that far along yet. It was stupid to sit there, waiting for it to happen when I knew it couldn’t. And yet, I did.

My heart was an idiot.

The ring was gone, back on his thumb where it belonged, but it felt like he’d left something bigger behind—an ache that settled in my body and refused to budge. I could still smell his cologne lingering in the air, faint and earthy, and it made my stomach twist with longing.

I loved him.

I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room. I loved the way he talked to Winnie, the way he’d pushed her on the swings and played tag with her like it was the most natural thing in the world. I loved his silver hair, the lines around his eyes, the way his age gave him a depth and steadiness that no one else I’d ever met had.

And I missed him.

It was a physical ache, a hollowness in my body that made everything else seem dull and unimportant. I felt empty without him here. Could I be codependent on someone I’d known for so short a time? Was that a thing? I wasn’t sure. But even now, I could picture the way he’d looked at me before he left, his blue eyes filled with emotions he hadn’t put into words.

I wanted him back. But I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.

I wound my way through the cottage, turning off lights and closing up for the night. I found my hairband on the floor in the kitchen. It had come undone when he reached into my hair to pull me off of him. For some reason, the sight of it on the tile made me weep. I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand, washed up, and went to bed, where I cried myself to sleep.

In the morning, I got a call I never wanted.

“We’re running the story tomorrow morning,” Gordon said, his tone brisk. “Don’t worry, your name’s not in it.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Who is covering the story?”

“Ian.”

I groaned. “Ian? He’ll shank the story, Gordon. He has no heart, no compassion. It’ll be a hit piece!”

My boss sighed. “Well, I had my favorite journalist on it, but she has a conflict of interest.”

Dammit. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And everyone else has other assignments. He’s been wanting to cover the Fire for a long time. It was either let Ian do it, or we’d get scooped.”

Which wasn’t an option, either. “Shit.”

“I meant what I said, Gemma. I made sure there’s nothing in there that could link you to this. You’re in the clear. Ian has no idea you’re involved in any way.”

I blew out a deep breath. “Thanks, Gordon. And thanks for the heads-up.”

“You got it. Take care.”

I ended the call and flopped onto the couch. I wanted to believe my boss, but the knot in my chest didn’t ease. The truth always had a way of coming out, no matter how carefully it was buried. And it didn’t matter if my name was in it or not, because this story could hurt Casey.

So, I texted him and asked if he could come over. Can you stop by? I need to talk to you.

He didn’t reply right away, and the minutes stretched into hours. But just as I was about to give up, my phone buzzed. I’ll be there in 30 .

When he arrived, he looked as tired as I felt, his blue eyes shadowed and his shoulders tense. “What’s wrong?”

I led him to the couch, sitting down beside him and folding my hands in my lap. “The story’s coming out tomorrow.”

He didn’t react right away. The silence stretched out between us. I needed him to say something, anything. But the silent treatment? I hadn’t thought him capable of something that cruel.

Eventually, though, he muttered, “I figured it’d come out sooner or later.”

“My boss said he kept my name out of it,” I continued, my voice trembling slightly. “But it’s only a matter of time before other people put the pieces together.”

Casey nodded slowly. “I’ll deal with it.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly, cutting me off. “This is my mess, Gemma. Not yours. I won’t bring you or Winnie into it.”

I stared at him, unable to breathe. We both knew the kind of media circus this could bring down on me and our daughter, and he was sparing us even though he didn’t have to. In fact, spreading the media around would have lessened the burden on him. And he was protecting us anyway.

I whispered, “Thank you.”

He nodded again, his gaze softening slightly. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

When Casey left, the silence in the house was, once again, unbearable. I sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to my chest, trying not to vomit. I’d told myself I could handle this, that I could keep moving forward without him, but the truth was, I felt untethered. Adrift. Lost in a sea of?—

“Okay, Gemma, rein yourself back in.” I took a deep breath and hoped talking to myself was not a sign of bad mental health. I missed Casey more than I thought it was possible to miss someone. But more than that, I missed the way I felt when I was with him—grounded, like I wasn’t alone anymore.

I needed something to cling to, and I refused to be one of those single moms who depends far too hard on her child to do her emotional labor for her. Winnie didn’t sign up to be my crutch.

The next day, I threw myself into work. The great thing about my job was that I was the one asking all the questions. I could bury myself under a mountain of editing and no one would be the wiser.

Since Gordon had reassigned me to the college beats, I’d already lined up an interview with some of GSU’s star football players. The campus was bustling when I arrived, and for a moment, I let myself get caught up in it.

Part of me missed college. As complicated as some of my assignments were, as difficult as some of the professors were, I missed the days when my biggest worry was whether or not I got a paper in on time. Things were simpler back then, and simplicity sounded very appealing after everything I was dealing with.

I met the boys in a student lounge. My interviewees were Jacob Grainer, Ryan Weiss, Ennis MacIntosh, and Ty Dixon, each more muscular than the last, it seemed. Giant muscly babies, each of them. After spending so much time with Casey and hell, even the Atlanta Fire, these college boys all looked undercooked. Cute, but so very young.

I understood why they were the star players—more than once, some girl or girls came by to flirt with them. They were good-looking kids, perfect for putting their faces on every bit of team merch that they could. A googly-eyed girl asked Ty to sign her foam finger with his name on it, which he did with a sly grin before she took it and ran off to show her friends.

“So, guys,” I said, trying to collect their attention once again. “According to our sources, your bios have been crashing the school’s system. People keep trying to find out more about you. What would you like my readers to know?”

Ty chuckled, turning that sly smile to me. He flicked his dark eyes up and down over me. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book. For the right reader.”

“Maybe something personal. Is that girl the right reader for you?”

He grinned. “Nah. I like my women grown. The girls around here are just that. Girls.”

I softly laughed. “I can understand that. Jacob, how about?—”

“Gemma,” Ty said, stealing my attention for himself. “What I mean is, you’re exactly my type.”

“So you prefer older women?”

“I prefer you.”

I laughed a bit louder that time. “Thanks, but I’m taken.” Was that a lie? It felt like a lie. But getting into the specifics was not on the table.

He sucked air through his teeth and muttered, “Damn. Hey guys, did you see where that girl went?”

Jacob pointed down a hall, and Ty was off. The remaining players sheepishly smiled or shrugged. Jacob said, “That boy doesn’t have the sense God gave a goat. I’m sorry about him running off like that.”

“Most players I interview don’t have it in them to sit still for long. No worries.” After that, the players were polite, friendly, and eager to talk. Evidently, Ty had stifled their personalities, which made sense. His persona was almost too big for the room.

They were cute, sure—tall, athletic, and confident in that boyish way that college kids always seemed to have. But they all looked like kids to me, and even though they were young and full of potential, they didn’t have the depth or the quiet confidence that Casey had.

Without meaning to, he had become my benchmark.

I found myself picturing him instead—the silver in his hair, the faint lines around his eyes, the way he carried himself like someone who’d lived and learned. He was the only man I wanted, and no amount of charming smiles or college boy bravado was going to change that.

By the time I got home, the ache in my bones was worse than ever. I dropped my bag by the door and sank onto the couch once again, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replayed in my mind.

I wanted to call him. I wanted to hear his voice, to tell him how much I missed him and how badly I wanted to fix things. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there in the quiet, letting the guilt of it all wash over me.

I loved him. And I deserved to be alone after what I’d done.