She waited, and I knew she was watching my face closely. “Well,” she finally murmured. “I’m glad you have reservations about her.”
What I had was a deal with her, and that was the only reason she was in my life. It was a bargain we made three years ago, when Cassie was in the hospital. Sophia could be my publicist and live off of my fame—but only if she never spoke to Cassie again. Because that was priority number one: keep Cassie safe from my piranha of an older sister.
At Gia’s questioning look, I shrugged and quoted Sun Tzu. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Ouch. Not exactly the picture of an all-American family.”
“I don’t know. There are lots of fucked-up families out there.”
She nodded. Given that she was a foster kid, she probably knew that better than I did. Then before she could pursue this line of questioning, I turned the tables on her, reaching out and tugging on her index finger.
“Tell me about your family. You’re living with a sister, right?”
“I am, and I’ll be happy to talk all about her…later. We’re going to finish this discussion first.”
I figured she wouldn’t let this go, but I had to give it a shot. My face must have given me away because she burst out laughing.
“You look like you’re facing a firing squad.”
“And you look like a determined reporter. A naked one, so that kind of distracts me, but—”
“I could get dressed.”
“Oh, no. That would be a terrible idea. I’ll clam up immediately.”
She chuckled. “You’re not exactly an open book right now.” Then her expression sobered, and she twisted her fingers around mine. “I’m trying to understand, Connor. We’re in bed together. We’ve just had the hottest sex of my life. Don’t make me feel like I did this with a stranger.”
She wasn’t asking for anything she didn’t deserve. And truthfully, I did trust that she’d keep whatever I told her a secret if I asked her to. But the problem was, I’d been private for so long, I didn’t even know how to start. What secrets did I have?
“I’m not complicated, Gia. I get up and go to work. I try to improve my skills. In the evening, I hope that Cassie will come by for a visit. End of story.”
She nodded. “So tell me about other things. How do you feel about your job?”
“I love it, of course. I get to play baseball. What could be bad about that?”
She arched her brow. “My grandmother knits.” She looked up. “Not my biological grandmother. I’ve never met her. My foster one. She knits all the time, and she taught me how to do it, too. We’d get together and she’d show me different stitches. We’d look at patterns and plan what we were going to make. And then one day in high school, someone asked me where I’d gotten one of my sweaters. When I told her I’d made it, she wanted one too. She even said she’d pay for it.”
I tilted my head, trying to picture it. “I can’t see you sitting still long enough to knit.”
She laughed. “Well, I could, more or less, with Nana’s help. And it was fun to sit and knit while we watched television. If I was really quiet, my parents would forget I was there, so I got to stay up really late.”
“Sneaky,” I said.
“Very. Until I had the great idea of making sweaters for money. Suddenly knitting went from being fun to a job. I took orders for six sweaters from my friends. And then I had to make them. It was awful. Suddenly, a dropped stitch was unprofessional. I was selling a product, and it needed to look good. I couldn’t play with the pattern but had to stick to exactly what my friends wanted. It went on and on until I hated the sight of my needles.”
“Ouch. What did you do?”
“I took my friends shopping with their own money and told them to pick something. I never confused a hobby with a job again.”
I could see it. That was a lesson every serious athlete learned early. That shift from amateur to serious sports could kill all the joy in the game. And the work only got harder the higher you got.
“So will you tell me the truth now?” Gia pressed. “How do you really feel about your job?”
“Like it’s ending, and I don’t know if I’m happy or sad about that.”
My words came out quickly before I could think about them. And as I heard them in the air, I winced at the truth of them. Fortunately, she didn’t react, but just sat there, listening. The urge to keep talking nearly buried me. My gaze slid from her face, because I couldn’t watch her when I spoke, and the words just fell out.
“I’m really scared, right now.”
