13. Casey
Chapter 13
Casey
L ove had always seemed like a far-off concept to me, something that other people talked about, something you saw in movies. If I was entirely honest about it, I wasn’t sure I believed in it at all.
I’d loved women in my past, or I thought I had. But what I felt for Gemma dwarfed all of that.
I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to see her at her worst, to be there to comfort her through things, to help her laugh again. I wanted to see her at her best and help her reach new heights. More than any of that, I wanted her.
Every day. All the time.
She had single-handedly ruined everything I thought I knew about love, and I was grateful. At first, it was her smile, the way it lit up her face and made me feel like the only person in the room. Then it was her laugh—genuine, unpolished, the kind that tugged a grin out of me no matter how bad my day had been.
But after meeting Winnie, the feeling deepened into something that scared the hell out of me in the best way. It wasn’t just about Gemma anymore. It was the two of them—this incredible woman and her equally incredible daughter. And somehow, I’d stumbled into their lives, feeling completely unworthy of the space I was starting to occupy.
How could I be? I was ancient in comparison to Gemma. I tried to brush that aside, but it was hard. Lying next to her in the morning, seeing her firm body, something like guilt hit me. My hand rested on her bare hip, and the contrast was stark. My skin was not unlined like hers, not smooth and unblemished. I wasn’t quite old enough to have age spots, but they’d hit me a lot faster than her.
How could I let her waste her youth on my old ass?
The morning sunlight spilled into the kitchen, casting a pale yellow glow over the small space. Gemma was curled up in one of the chairs at the table, her oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as she cradled a steaming mug of coffee. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her bare feet were tucked under her, the picture of effortless beauty.
I leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment before I spoke. There was no sense in workshopping this. I had to know. “I’ve been thinking about dyeing my hair.”
She looked up, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why?”
I shrugged, running a hand through the silver strands that dominated my head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the age thing. The difference between us, I mean. The gray makes it obvious.”
“Obvious that you’re a grown man who has his life together?”
“Obvious that I’m older than you,” I said, my tone softer.
Gemma set her mug down, tilting her head as she studied me, her pretty eyes settling on my head. “Casey, it’s your hair. If you want to dye it, go ahead. But if you want my opinion, I think the silvery look is incredibly sexy.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“No,” she said, her smirk widening. “You’re a silver fox. Distinguished. Rugged. Very hot.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Distinguished, huh?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
I took a sip of my coffee, letting her words clink around the old brain pan. I wasn’t sure I believed her—I’d been self-conscious about the age gap between us since the start of things—but hearing her say it made me feel lighter, like maybe it didn’t matter as much as I thought it did.
I might actually believe that one day.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the morning filling the air around us. She had put on some music, but it was soothing lo-fi, nothing too heavy. Kind of perfect, actually.
It set the mood for more conversation instead of wanting to dance. I wanted to ask her something meaningful that would bring us closer, and before I could stop myself, the words spilled out.
“What’s your relationship with your dad like?” I had to know. If our thing was some warped Daddy Issues thing, I couldn’t keep getting attached to her.
Gemma stilled for a moment, her mug halfway to her lips. I regretted the question immediately, remembering too late what Nico had mentioned about her dad’s health. This was it. I was officially the world’s worst boyfriend.
“It was great,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Before his stroke.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, setting my coffee down. “I forgot Nico told me about that.”
“It’s okay,” she said, waving me off. “It’s just part of life. My dad’s in a nursing home now. He doesn’t recognize us much anymore, but he knows he’s a dad. He calls Winnie by my name sometimes, so he’s close. Just…not quite there most of the time. The moments of lucidity are nice until they fade away, and you’re left explaining who you are to your own father.”
My heart clenched at that. I could not imagine how hard it was. “That must be rough, having your own dad not recognize you.”
Her eyes flickered with something—pain, maybe—but she nodded. “It is. But now that I’m back in town, I visit him every week. It helps. Most of the time.”
“That’s admirable,” I said, meaning it. “I think it’s amazing that you do that.”
She smiled faintly. “It’s hard. Especially since my mom passed when I was a teenager. Our dad’s all I have left, even if he’s not fully himself anymore. He got to see me graduate high school, but his stroke hit when I was in college, and I hate that he didn’t remember seeing me walk across the stage for my college graduation.” Her smile died, replaced by a wistfulness that killed me. “If I hadn’t…if I hadn’t fucked around in high school and had gone straight to college right after, then he would have that memory, too.”
“Oh, Gem, you can’t think like that.”
She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s impossible not to. But I cheer myself up by remembering how proud he was when I graduated high school, and it has to be enough.”
“Does that have anything to do with Los Angeles?”
“Yeah, definitely. The opportunity was huge, but it wasn’t the only one. I could have stayed here. But Nico encouraged me to leave Atlanta for a while. See the world, that kind of thing. He said he’d watch out for Dad and stick around here.” She took a steadying breath and finished her coffee, refilling both our mugs for a second go-round. “I was lucky to get that break from Dad’s situation, and I’m lucky he’s still alive for me to get to know this new version of him.”
I reached across the table, brushing her hand with mine. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Her smile widened slightly, but I could tell the conversation was starting to weigh on her. I wanted to ask more, but I also didn’t want to push too far. Instead, I decided to shift gears.
“What about Winnie’s dad?” I asked cautiously, keeping my tone light. “What’s his deal?”
Her entire demeanor changed. The warmth in her eyes dimmed, her expression tightening as if I’d struck a nerve. “It’s not something I talk about.”
The wall she’d put up was immediate, and I backed off without pressing. “Got it. Sorry I asked.”
“What about your family?” she asked, kindly changing the topic.
“The team is my family,” I said honestly. “My dad passed from cancer when I was in my twenties. My mom had a heart attack a few years later. I was an only child, so…that was that.”
Gemma’s expression softened, her hand resting lightly on mine. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”
“It was,” I admitted. “I have an uncle in Maryland and the cousins I mentioned, but we were never close. Hockey’s always been my constant. The team is what keeps me grounded.”
She nodded thoughtfully, and for a moment, it looked like she was about to say something. But before she could, keys jingled in the door. Megan appeared in the doorway, carrying a sleepy Winnie in her arms.
Winnie’s head was resting against Megan’s shoulder, her tiny arms hanging limply at her sides. She was wearing a tank top despite the cool weather, and her soft snores filled the room as Megan carried her closer.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Megan said with a grin. “But I think someone’s ready to come home.”
I stepped forward, reaching out instinctively to take Winnie from her. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her small body relaxing against my chest as I held her.
Megan smiled. “We had a hell of a slumber party.”
“Did she stay up late or something?”
Megan nodded vigorously but said, “No, of course not. I’m a responsible auntie.”
Gemma snickered. “And I’m sure dinner was a plate of broccoli and carrots.”
“She asked for seconds,” Megan baldly lied as she passed Gemma a small bag. “Right now, I think she’s out for the count.”
Gemma smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Winnie’s face. “Thanks, Megan. I owe you.”
“Don’t even play like that,” Megan said, waving her off. As her best friend left, I shifted Winnie slightly, my gaze falling on her bare shoulder. My breath caught in my throat.
There was a faint café-au-lait birthmark. It wasn’t an exact match for mine—it wasn’t shaped like Italy—but it was long, thin, and oddly familiar. What a weird coincidence.
“Casey?” Gemma’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just…thinking.”
She didn’t press, but her eyes lingered on mine for a moment before she turned her attention back to Winnie. “Would you mind carrying her to bed for me?”
“Of course not. Lead the way.” I followed behind, happy for the view of her ass, but that felt wrong to think about while carrying Winnie. Once I tucked her into her princess bed, Gemma drew the curtains to let her sleep. “Slumber party hangovers are the worst. She’ll be out for another few hours.”
“What makes them so bad?”
“Because at some point, you had to choose sleep over fun. What kid wants to do that?”
I chuckled, and as we left her bedroom, the sheer domesticity of tucking a child in struck me in the chest. That birthmark, her propensity for not wearing a jacket in the cold, her great big heart, it was almost enough for me to slide Winnie into that daughter-shaped hole in my heart.
I had always wanted a daughter. And a son. And a few more. A team of my own, so to speak. And Gemma would make the perfect mom to a fleet of kids. The way she didn’t stress the small stuff, the way she loved her family, I knew she’d knock it out of the park. I wondered whether I could convince her of that, too.