The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

39. Casey

Chapter 39

Casey

I loved Gemma’s house. It was cozy and cheerful without feeling too small. But my daughter’s personality was big enough that they could have done with a bigger place.

Winnie’s drawings hung from the fridge with care. With Gemma’s relaxed way of looking at the world, I had the sense that I could make a mess, and it wouldn’t be a tragedy. But a certain amount of pride was taken in her home. Pictures on the walls were dusted and leveled, gathered together by theme. Everything had a place and was at least mostly tucked there. Even the baseboards sparkled, and that was something I neglected.

It wouldn’t be our long-term home, but I was glad to know my girls had a nice place for now. I planned to buy Gemma whatever house she wanted. All she had to do was point her little finger, and it was hers. But I’d let that be a wedding surprise. For now, I stood by, watching Gemma handle her household.

The smell of coffee mingled with the sugary sweetness of spilled cereal and milk, and it all felt so wonderfully… normal. For someone like me, who had spent so much of my life on the road, in arenas, or alone in my own place, this kind of normal was everything I’d ever wanted. A family made of people who spent time together because they enjoyed each other, not because of obligation.

My family in Maryland was all right for the most part, but two of my cousins had married people who did nothing but passive-aggressively speak to one another or gossip about each other. One was from Connecticut, the other from Philly. My uncle had confided that they reminded him why he didn’t like New Englanders, but I doubted that was how everybody in the tri-state areas acted. The sniping and backbiting made visiting a chore instead of something I looked forward to every year. Thankfully, there was none of that in Gemma’s house. I doubted there ever could be.

Winnie was at the counter, enthusiastically pouring various cereals into a massive mixing bowl. Cornflakes, granola, chocolate puffs, golden pops, fruity loops—it was all going in, and Gemma watched with a mixture of horror and amusement as her daughter crafted what she proudly dubbed “Winnie Mix.”

I tried not to fret about the health implications of her mix, but it was hard to turn off my coach's brain. “That is quite the recipe. Pretty sure she’s getting her daily allowance of artificial color.”

“She’s really committing to the bit.” Gemma folded her arms, shaking her head with an amused grin.

“She gets it from you,” I teased, kissing her temple.

Gemma rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

We each took a bowl, and I prayed the artificial colors wouldn’t ruin Winnie’s developing brain or Nico’s gains in the gym. He and Megan were seated at the table, looking marginally less awkward than earlier, though they still avoided eye contact whenever they could. Megan stirred her cereal creation, while Nico leaned back in his chair, pretending to check his phone between bites of Winnie’s Mix. Every once in a while, he stole a glance of Megan.

I kept waiting for him to turn on the charm like always, but he just kept silently pining. It was odd, to say the least. Nico Grimaldi had a reputation for a reason. He was a good-looking man, and women—especially puck bunnies—fawned over him. He could have any of them and had many times. But over a bowl of Frankenstein’s imagination, he clammed up like he couldn’t think of what to say to Megan.

She was a pretty girl, certainly, but I’d seen Nico with models draped on his arm. Rich women, thin women, full-figured women, old and young, they all wanted him. Megan, on the other hand, was picking at her breakfast like she’d eat it to make Winnie happy, but that was the only reason. Nico appeared to barely factor on her radar.

Until she spied him from her periphery and turned pink.

This mousy girl blushed like no one’s business. Had they hooked up last night? Or was it just a movie night, like they’d claimed? I wondered if we’d ever learn the truth.

I sat beside Gemma on the couch, my arm slung casually over her shoulders. The TV was on, tuned to a morning news show that was currently featuring a segment about last night’s game. Or at least, that was what I thought it was going to be about.

“And now, for the story everyone is talking about this morning,” the anchor said, a bright smile plastered on her face.

The screen cut to footage from the arena, showing the team skating into the heart formation at center ice. Winnie’s tiny figure appeared in the spotlight, holding the bouquet of flowers. Then it shifted to me, down on one knee beside Gemma, as the crowd erupted in cheers.

My stomach sank. Was my hair really that gray all over?

“While the Atlanta Fire clinched a crucial playoff victory last night,” the anchor continued, “it’s what happened off the ice that’s stealing headlines. Head Coach Casey McConnell proposed to journalist Gemma Grimaldi in a heartwarming moment that had the entire arena—and now the nation—cheering.”

The screen shifted again, this time to Gemma’s article about our relationship. The headline was overlaid with a banner reading Love, Fire, and Ice.

My jaw dropped. “It got picked up nationally?”

“Apparently,” Gemma said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“And it’s not just the proposal,” the anchor went on. “Grimaldi’s article about her journey with McConnell and their daughter has been gaining traction across major outlets, with many calling it one of the most touching sports-related human interest stories of the year.”

The screen filled with footage of the Kiss Cam moment again, and I groaned softly, running a hand over my face.

“This is surreal,” Gemma muttered.

Nico leaned back in his chair, smirking. “I mean, it’s kind of romantic. For an old guy like you.”

“Watch it,” I said, throwing my spoon at him.

To no one’s surprise, he caught it.

Winnie appeared in the doorway, holding the massive bowl of cereal with both hands. Milk sloshed precariously close to the edge, but she somehow managed to make it to the table without spilling.

“What do you have there, kiddo?” Megan asked.

“It’s my breakfast,” she announced proudly.

Nico chuckled, scooting over to make room. “You sure about that? Might be enough breakfast for my whole team.”

“I like cereal,” Winnie stubbornly declared.

We joined them at the table, Gemma still shaking her head at the absurdity of that bowl. “Winnie, that’s too much, even for you.”

“Hockey guys need a lot of food to be big and strong,” Winnie said, grinning.

Gemma’s sharp gaze fell on Nico. He defensively said, “She wanted to know why I needed a whole bag of microwave popcorn last night, but she and Megan split one.”

“You ate microwave popcorn last night?” I asked, half in a gasp. “You know the chemicals in that stuff will affect you on the ice. How many times do I?—”

“Coach, we just won the Cup. I’m allowed to have a bag of popcorn. Do you really think what I did last night is worse than what any of the other players did to themselves at Smokey’s to celebrate?”

I couldn’t help myself. I smirked at Megan. “I don’t know. Was it?”

She turned eight shades of red. “No. We told you. Popcorn, movie, dozed off. Nothing else happened.”

“Sure.”

Maybe she wanted to change the topic. Megan turned to Winnie. “You want to be a hockey guy?”

Her little head bobbed enthusiastically. “I wanna be just like Uncle Nico and Daddy.”

Daddy. That word stole my breath. I teared up—I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know she’d call me that just yet. I’d thought…well, I didn’t have a plan for any of that. I figured I’d roll with whatever she and Gemma decided. If that meant I was Casey to Winnie for the rest of her life, it was fine. I wanted them to be comfortable with me joining their family, whatever that took.

But Daddy, the morning after I proposed? It shook me in the best way possible.

Gemma gave my hand a squeeze. She must have known how it shocked me because the corners of her mouth upturned, but she didn’t say anything. She knew to let me process what had just happened.

Winnie kept eating and bouncing in her seat like nothing had changed. But with that one word, my entire world had shifted. Was this what parenthood was like? Tiny, world-reshaping, welcome earthquakes every day? Only time will tell.

As we ate, the news coverage continued in the background. Every anchor had the same tone—gushing and celebratory. Nothing like what I’d expected, though I wondered if they’d be so generous if we hadn’t won.

“What makes this story so compelling,” one anchor said, “is the way both of them put themselves out there for each other. Casey McConnell risked his career for the woman he loves, and Gemma Grimaldi risked public backlash to set the record straight about their story. It’s a modern fairy tale.”

“Fairy tale,” Gemma muttered, rolling her eyes. “I could have written better copy for them to read.”

“Hey,” I said, nudging her. “You’re a journalist. You know how they spin things.”

“It’s still weird to hear it about yourself when you’re a reporter. You’re not supposed to become the story.”

“It’ll settle down as soon as they can sink their teeth into someone else.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s just…”

“Surreal?”

“Definitely.”

I glanced at my phone, unable to resist checking the latest headlines. Sure enough, the proposal footage and Gemma’s article were plastered everywhere. The win wasn’t even the top story anymore—the proposal had completely overshadowed it. Which didn’t make much sense.

I pulled up Whitney’s number, my thumbs flying over the keyboard. This media push about the proposal—your doing?

She replied almost instantly. Enjoy it, Coach. You deserve a break.

I smirked, shaking my head as I showed Gemma the message.

“What does she mean by that?”

“She won’t take credit outright, but I know it was her.”

Another text came through.

PS—You should consider a wedding before the next season starts. Gives you time to enjoy being a newlywed before reality hits again.

I read the message twice, considering her words. It wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it sounded perfect.

“What is it?” Gemma asked, raising an eyebrow.

I leaned over, kissing her temple. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s just enjoy today.”

As the morning wore on, the odd nature of the situation started to fade, replaced by a warm sense of contentment. Sitting here with Gemma, Winnie, Nico, and Megan, it hit me again how special this was. Gemma had welcomed me into her little family with open arms, and each of them had done the same in their own way. I’d never experienced anything like it.

The world was buzzing about us, but in this little bubble, everything felt right.

Winnie giggled as Nico and Megan bickered over who had to clean up the remaining cereal mess. It had become clear the two of them were destined for each other. Gemma leaned against me, her hand resting on my leg as she watched them with a slight smile. I wondered when Nico and Megan might head down the aisle themselves and start a family.

Twenty-four hours ago, the world felt like it was ending. Gemma had thrown herself under the bus, and I had done what I could to pull her out, and none of it felt like enough. But life, such as it was, had fallen into place. This was my family now, too, in all their messy, imperfect glory.

I didn’t know what I’d done in a past life to deserve them, but I was glad I did it. This was what I had needed all along, it just took a series of questionable choices to get me here. And I had one more to make.