With a final flourish of her brush, she leaned back to examine her handiwork, nodded in satisfaction, and waved Matilda away.
Leighton was still shaking her head in amusement as she scooted off the bench, her eyes locking on mine a beat before she canted her head curiously.
I need to get control of the subtitles on my face if we have any hope of making it through tonight without a family implosion.
Greyson wasmyproblem.
I didn’t need to make him my kids’ concern. Or Leighton’s.
The last thing any of us needed was a pissed-off Leighton Rhodes, digging around in business she had no right to expose. Because if anybody could get to the bottom of it through sheer stubborn willpower, it would be Leigh.
Her sister had figured it out in less than a day once she started looking—and that was saying something, considering Greyson’s ‘side business’ had been hidden behind government-approved firewalls.
But the Rhodes girls were nothing if not startlingly intelligent.
I handed her a water bottle before all but ripping the cap off my own and taking a long swig—just for an excuse to keep my mouth closed.
We rounded the corner right as Grey and Alice appeared in the living room. The girls’ older brother, Paxton, was tight on their heels. Much to my amusement, America's favorite quarterback was dressed up as a Wookie, the enormous furry mask hanging from his hand.
Oh, the press would have a field day with that.
“Nice Wookie suit,” I muttered, bypassing my brother in favor of our prize acquisition of the season.
We’d traded Paxton to ourEmerald Bay Bombersover the summer, and so far, he’d rallied our rag-tag team of washed-up talent into a somewhat formidable offensive line.
Another season or two, and we might actually be contenders for the first time in decades.
“Thanks. Nice spandex,” he said, smirking in a way that was pure Rhodes DNA, making me smile despite myself.
“No interest in the family theme?”
“Going for full anonymity, if you know what I mean.”
“Smart,” I muttered, pulling my own mask off the end table as the group made a beeline for the front door. “Gonna stay a fur beast for the team party after?”
“To be determined,” he said, flashing a broad smile before plunking the Wookie head onto his own. “It smells like a glue factory in here.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as we made for the front door. “Who’s ready for some trick-or-treating?!” I called out, sounding more boisterous than I felt.
The kids rallied, of course, rushing to grab their bags and following me into the crisp evening air.
But I didn’t miss it.
Greyson wasn’t the only one watching me.
Leighton was too.
Her expression was puzzled, her fingers absentmindedly brushing that curious scar, her slate eyes flicking between me and Grey before settling back on my face.
I offered what I hoped was a convincing smile, snatched Beau’s little hand in mine, and led them out into the chaos.
One big, happy fucking family.
Leighton
Paxton might not have beena stranger to the spotlight, but with seven years between us, I’d been too young to really absorb what his fame entailed before now.
That was likely amplified by the miles between us—me finishing my degree back home in Alaska, him playing for Chicago.