Page 30 of Desperate Games

It is magic.

The kind you don’t fuck around with.

And now Mom’s talking retirement. Florida, beaches, bingo nights.

“It’s time,” she said. “She’s yours now, Remy.”

I’m trying.

Hell, I’m trying so hard.

I want to be the man who doesn’t just keep Callie safe, but makes her proud.

The kind of father figure who shows up for school recitals, who coaches her soccer team, who teaches her how to fight and how to forgive.

I want to be the one who gives her stability. Who teaches her how to ride a bike and tie her shoes and scare the living shit out of her future boyfriends.

I’ve been looking at houses in Roseland.

Nice ones. Big yard. Good bones. Extra bedrooms.

That’s the plan.

Correction: That was the plan.

Until Andrea Ramirez waltzed into my life all curves and sass and a smile that flipped my whole world on its head.

Because now I can’t stop thinking about her. With me. With Callie.

I can’t stop picturing her in that house I’m going to buy.

And for the first time since my sister died, the future I imagined is shifting.

Getting bigger.

Messier.

Better.

Maybe.

If I don’t screw it up.

Ever since she smiled at me with soft eyes and pirate’s smile, I started thinking about forever like it was something I could actually have.

“Yo, Remy.”

Connor’s voice yanks me out of my head, grounding me. He’s standing at his office door, brow raised.

Serious. Focused.

I push everything down—lust, hope, guilt. All of it. Lock it behind my ribs like I was trained to.

“Yeah,” I say, walking in, keeping my tone even. “What’s up?”

He motions to the chair. I sit.

“We just got a request in. Private bodyguard detail.”