Page 95 of Playing for Keeps

I let out a breath that had been waiting all evening. “Honestly? Better than I expected. Worse than I hoped.”

Her eyes softened. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

I ran my hand over my face, searching for words. “It’s weird. I’ve had this wall up inside me for years. It’s what kept me moving, I guess. Hockey, routine, whatever. Tonight, she filled in the blanks. Some of it stung, but I needed to hear it.”

Grace nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I’d be angry, but I’m not. I’m just… sad. For her, for me, for everything that got screwed up. It doesn’t excuse what happened, but I get it now. She was stuck. Makes me wonder how long I’ve lived like I was stuck, too.”

Grace reached over and touched my arm. “You’ve done better than most, you know.”

“Maybe. But honestly, I wouldn’t have even tried without Emma.”

That got her attention.

“She never pushed,” I said. “She just let me talk – or not. Whatever I needed. She’s got this way of hearing what I don’t say. Makes it impossible to pretend everything’s fine.”

Grace smiled then – like she knew exactly what I meant. “That’s love, little brother.”

I gave a half laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Emma doesn’t even realize how much she’s helped me. I never would’ve had that talk if it wasn’t for her. She makes me want to be the kind of guy who could face something like that instead of running away.”

Grace’s voice went soft. “You already are.”

We sat there for a while, just the old clock ticking and the floorboards creaking upstairs. It was the kind of stillness that doesn’t ask for words.

After a while, she said, “You’re going to tell her, right?”

I glanced over. “Tell her what?”

“That you love her.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Grace just nodded, like she’d known it all along. “Good. She deserves to hear it. And so do you.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked out the window, watching the porch light spill over the lawn. The night was almost heavy with quiet, but for once, it didn’t feel lonely.

“I finally get it,” I said, barely louder than a whisper. “You can’t change the past. But you don’t have to let it write the rest of your story.”

Grace didn’t say anything. She just reached over, squeezed my hand, and that was enough.

46

MAX

The guys were loud, music was still playing somewhere down the hall, and the air in the locker room was thick with the smell of sweat and victory. I waved off a few more cheers, picked up my bag, and left. My phone lit up with her name by the time I got to my truck. Emma.

“Hey,” I answered, still beaming from winning. Then I heard her voice, and that was a whole different kind of high.

“Max,” she sang, her voice warm and a little slurred, threaded with laughter. “You busy?”

Christ. Even tipsy, she sounded like sunshine.

“For you? Never.”

She giggled, out of breath and bright. “Can you come pick me up? Simon and his friends are fun, but I’d rather go home with you.”