Page 79 of The Wrong Game

“Lame.”

“Hey, don’t make fun.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m saying that’s a lame thing to share. Although, good to know, we’ll have to get you over that eventually.”

Gemma laughed. “Don’t even try. Trust me, I’ve wanted to conquer that fear so many times, but every time I attempt to, I chicken out.”

“Doesn’t mean youalwayswill,” I pointed out. “If you want to face it, to overcome it, you can. With the right circumstances.” I paused. “And the right people supporting you.”

She smiled, leaning her cheek on my chest as she watched me.

“But for now,” I continued. “I want something more. Come on.” I poked her side. “Give me the goods. I just confessed my first heartbreak to you.”

She sighed, rolling off my chest to lie next to me as her eyes found the ceiling. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “You know how you said you’re big into family?”

I nodded.

“Well, I don’t really know what a family is supposed to feel like,” she said. “Not really, anyway. My parents always traveled, and I was an only child. I spent most of my time with my grandpa, who was amazing, but… I don’t know. He felt more like a teacher than a family member sometimes.”

She paused, and I let the quiet stretch between us. My heart ached for her, for what it must have felt like to grow up without the same family atmosphere I’d had. I knew there were plenty of kids who weren’t as fortunate, but to hear it first-hand was tough.

“Why were your parents always gone?”

Gemma shifted. “So, my mom and dad are kind of like the modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Their families hated each other, all the odds were against them, but they somehow made their love work. They bought a house, had me, all the American dream things. And then, they wrote a book about it. And it was a bestseller in the first two weeks.”

“Whoa.”

“I know. They wrote another one about a year later, and the more they wrote, the more people wanted. They covered everything in their books — putting love first, trusting each other, communicating.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Parenting — although, that was a joke to me. They could teach it, but didn’t really know how to put their own teachings into practice.”

I swallowed. “But you had your grandpa?”

“I did. And like I said, he was amazing… he had a great balance between being my guardian, my friend, and my teacher.”

“That’s the second time you’ve referred to him that way — as a teacher,” I said. “What makes you think of him that way?”

Gemma smiled then. “Oh, he was always finding ways to make every day a lesson. He’s the one who got me really into football, actually. And honestly, I’d also say he’s responsible for my incessant need to plan and set goals and check off lists until I reach them.”

“Driven man, I presume?”

“Very. And he made sure I was the same.” Gemma closed her eyes then. “I miss him. Every day.”

I pulled her into me, running my hand over her arm as I held her. She tucked into my chest, and her legs weaved with mine under the sheets.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Oh, God, what now?”

I laughed. “How freaked out are you about ditching your plan tonight? About me being here?”

She blew out a breath at that. “Honestly? I don’t know if it’s really hit me yet.”

“Any regrets?”

Gemma leaned up, and her eyes searched mine before she lowered her lips to mine. We both inhaled at the touch, and even though I’d just had her twice, my entire body woke up again, thrumming with the need to touch her more.

“Not yet,” she answered when she broke the kiss. “But we’re still early in the game.”

“Please, no more games,” I said on a laugh, and she chuckled, too. “But seriously, I want to make you feel comfortable. And hey, next week is an away game, so we’re nottechnicallybreaking your rules, right?” I pointed out. “You can hang out with me the next couple of weeks, and if you change your mind, there’s always time to line up a date for the next home game.”