The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

29. Casey

Chapter 29

Casey

T he morning sunlight filtered through the baby blue curtains, bathing Gemma’s bedroom in a pale glow. I lay there for a long time, watching her sleep. Her hair was a mess, falling in loose tangles around her face, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in a steady rhythm. She had even drooled in her sleep.

She was beautiful. And she was finally mine.

The weight in my chest had lifted since yesterday. We’d finally said the things that needed saying, peeled back the layers of pain and fear that had been keeping us apart. There was a lot yet to be done, but not much left to be said. Getting things out on the table had been cathartic.

I hadn’t known about her past relationships, that she’d been with guys who lied and used her. It made sense. No wonder she was so torn up about whether or not to tell me about Winnie. She had no reason to think I was any different from the others. She didn’t know me back when we had conceived Winnie.

And I was a different person back then, too. Was I ready to be a dad five years ago? It would have been a change, that was for sure. I would have taken on the role, but I hadn’t been ready for it back then.

Not that it mattered now. Things had worked out the way they were meant to. I had Gemma, and I’d set things right.

Lying next to her, I felt a kind of peace I had never known. It felt as if my long, winding road had led me to this moment in time. All the follies, all the successes, everything had lined up for this. For the first time since we had begun things, I felt like we had a real chance. But there was still so much to figure out.

The team. Her career. Mine. Winnie.

That last thing was why I had had the world’s most awkward night. I’d dozed off after we had made love, and when I woke up hours later, it was because Gemma was bringing my clothes in from the living room. She begged me to stay in her room for the night, because she didn’t want to have to explain anything to Winnie about me being there. Thank God her bedroom had an attached bathroom, or I would have never made it.

I promised to leave in the morning before Winnie left for daycare, but right now, all I wanted to do was lay here and watch Gem sleep. This was where I belonged. By her side. Always.

It was certainly easier than figuring everything else out.

The logistics, as she put it, swirled in the back of my mind as I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. I wasn’t going to screw up the first time I stayed over by letting Winnie catch me. So, I grabbed my clothes from the chair in the corner, dressing quickly and quietly. In the process, I stubbed my toe on Gemma’s bed. I smacked my hand over my mouth to stifle the instant curses that came out. The last thing we needed was for Winnie to hear me swearing like that.

Things were complicated enough without having to explain to a child why she woke up to a man cursing in her mom’s bedroom, and we had a sleepover and didn’t tell her about it.

Once I got myself together, I leaned over Gemma, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. I whispered, “I’ll see you later.” Then I slipped out of her bedroom. Now came the tricky part.

I closed the door as quietly as possible, but I knew little ears were good at picking up faint sounds, so I took my time letting the door slowly latch. It barely made a sound.

Gemma had given me a spare key last night so I could lock up behind myself. No way was I leaving my girls asleep in an unlocked house. The front door key sat in my pocket as I tiptoed down the hall.

That might have been overkill. Her floor was carpeted. But I was paranoid.

We had to handle everything exactly right for Winnie, and nothing good would come from rushing that process. We didn’t want to scar her for life about sex or relationships or the rest of it. Nothing she’d spend years on a couch telling her therapist about, we agreed on that last night. So, once Gemma came to bed, we kept things PG. Just some kissing that led to nothing else until we figured out what we were doing and how thin Winnie’s bedroom wall was.

I made it to the front door when a heavy truck rumbled down the street, rattling the windows. I froze up, holding perfectly still and praying they wouldn’t wake Winnie. The tell-tale beeping of a big truck backing up followed, and I cursed my luck. But eventually, the truck made its way down the street. Once I was sure she hadn’t woken, I made my escape and locked up behind me.

I’d done it. A clean getaway.

The crisp morning air hit me as I stood there, the now-quiet suburban street a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in my mind. Every step toward my car, another factor sprang to mind. What would I tell Matthew? How fired would I be? I’d breached my contract, so that was that. I’d deal. Somehow.

“Coach McConnell!”

I froze, my head snapping up to see a man walking up to my car, a camera slung around his neck and some kind of device in his hand. A recorder, like Gemma’s. My stomach dropped. A reporter. Worse, a reporter who knew too much.

I didn’t know if he had tailed me to Gemma’s house, or if he just happened to find my car, but the press and the Atlanta Fire were barely on speaking terms, so I assumed the worst. I’d brought the press to my girls’ otherwise quiet life. I had to handle this just right.

“Got a minute?”

“No,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Just a couple of questions,” he pressed, stepping closer. “Rumors are swirling about you having an illegitimate child. Care to comment?”

“No comment,” I said firmly, unlocking my car.

“Come on, Coach,” he said, his tone turning sharp. “The public has a right to know. You’ve always come off as this uptight stiff, and now this? How long have you been hiding your kid in this neighborhood so far away from your posh condo? And how does it feel knowing you abandoned your child? That you’re living the high life, while your child lives here?”

I turned to face him, my blood boiling. I wanted to smack the taste out of his mouth. But I knew better. “I said no comment.”

Before I could say anything more, the front door opened, and Gemma stepped out in her robe and slippers, marching toward us with fury in her eyes. I’d never seen her so angry. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ian?”

The journalist smirked and flicked his device on. “My job. Care to comment?”

“Your job?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Your job is to harass people on their front lawn? To spread lies about things you know nothing about?”

“Lies?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying that Coach McConnell isn’t the father of your child? Because rumor has it, he’s Dear Old Dad.”

Gemma’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Leave. Now. While I still let you walk out of here.”

I stepped over to him, crossing my arms. I had no doubt she could take this guy on, but now that we were together, taking out the trash was my job. “You heard the lady. You leave on your feet or on your ass. It’s up to you. Ten seconds.”

“This is a public interest story,” he said, a little shaken. “And it’s going to make one hell of a headline.” With that, he jogged to his car parked on the street, climbing in and speeding off before either of us knew what else to do.

I let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair. I was almost disappointed that I didn’t get to feed him his teeth. But then I saw the look on her face. She was bereft. I put an arm around her shoulders and quietly uttered, “This is bad.”

“It’s more than bad,” Gemma said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Let me handle it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Call the best we’ve got.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing Whitney’s number.

She picked up on the second ring. “Casey? It’s early. What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got a problem,” I said, my voice grim. “A journalist showed up outside Gemma’s house this morning. He was asking questions about Winnie. It’s going to get out sooner rather than later, and?—”

“See you in twenty.” The line went dead.

I relayed the message and followed Gemma back inside. Winnie was up, and somehow, all the energy she had before was gone. My daughter was not a morning person.

My daughter. Those words filled me with inexplicable joy, even now, while everything else was falling to shit.

I helped get her ready for daycare—though I felt like I was in the way more than anything else. I didn’t know the routine yet. But I’d learn.

After that, Gemma poured us a pair of coffees just as Whitney arrived, stepping into the house with her usual brisk efficiency. She took one look at Gemma and me, then shook her head. “This is a mess.”

“We know,” I said. “Trust me, we know.”

She set her bag down and crossed her arms. “Okay, let’s talk options. Are you two sure about this relationship? Because if you’re not, now’s the time to say so.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “I’m sure.”

Gemma glanced at me, her eyes softening. “So am I.”

Whitney nodded, her expression serious. “Then here’s what I think you should do. Go public. Take control of the narrative before that journalist can spin it into something salacious.”

Gemma frowned, crossing her arms. “Go public how?”

“You’re a journalist, Gemma. You know how this is done,” Whitney said. “Call your editor. Write the story yourself. Make it personal, make it honest. Tell the truth—about how Casey didn’t know, about how you’ve both been navigating this together. In this situation, the truth is the best defense.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” Gemma said hesitantly.

Whitney looked at me. “Casey, are you willing to put yourself out there for this?”

I looked at Gemma, at the way she was watching me with equal parts hope and fear, and I knew there was only one answer. “Whatever it takes.”

Gemma nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Whitney smiled faintly, giving Gemma’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this. And you’re not alone in this, either of you.”

After Whitney left, the house was quiet again. Gemma and I sat on the couch, her laptop open on the coffee table between us. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified that I’ll lose my job,” I admitted. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Winnie’s worth it. Come what may, you’re stuck with me.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”