Page 73 of Play Dirty

I guess I’m going to have to find out.

“Everything okay?” Stevie asks as she comes into the kitchen.

“No, but I’ll tell you later.” I turn to Emma, who’s proudly showing off her hairdo, which is two braids, one on each side.

“Look, Daddy, Auntie Stevie braided my hair!” Her eyes are shining happily, something I rarely see when she’s with Brenna.

“It’s beautiful, honey. And thank you.” I lean over and kiss Stevie’s cheek. “Sorry about…all of this.”

She shakes her head. “You warned me. I’m fine.”

“Did Mommy leave?” Martin looks around in confusion.

“She had plans,” Marty says quickly. “But we’re going to the water park! Go get your floaties!”

Martin takes off, forgetting all about his mother and we exchange glances.

I may have underestimated the lengths Brenna will go to just to make me miserable.

The last thing Stevie needs is to get caught in the crossfire, especially after everything she’s already gone through and Damien’s upcoming trial.

There’s no doubt in my mind Brenna is going to do something to make trouble for me—specifically for Stevie and me.

And I have no idea how the hell am I going to protect her.

* * *

After a long dayat the water park, we get the kids bathed, read them a story, and they’re out like a light before eight. Stevie and I are tired too, and we immediately head to bed. Her nighttime skincare regimen takes a while, so I lounge out on the bed and decide to do a quick search on Stevie and see what there is to see.

At first, there are mostly basic articles talking about her modest upbringing in a suburb of Philadelphia called Ardmore. There are some gorgeous pictures of her as a teenager, around sixteen or so, on the covers of magazines and I can’t help but smile at how innocent she looked at that age.

Then I add Damien’s name to the search and that’s when things take a turn.

Stevie Marchand On Her Way to the Altar—Again.

A Look at the Highs and Lows of a Supermodel: Stevie Marchand.

Stevie Marchand Models Bad Behavior.

I click on that one and it’s a little unsettling to see the things that have been said about her. They describe a scene in a nightclub where Stevie absolutely loses her shit, screaming and throwing things, causing thousands of dollars of damage. The article talks about her having a fight with her then-fiancé, someone who isn’t Damien.

A perfunctory search tells me that she’s been engaged three times, which is something I didn’t know. The first guy married her sister and the second left her at the altar.

Damn.

I hate that this stuff is out there, and worst of all, the press makes it sound like everything was her fault. The nightclub debacle was apparently the night she found out about her fiancé sleeping with her sister. How do the tabloids write about that and then vilify Stevie instead of the two people who did something wrong?

I close the app in disgust, shaking my head.

“What’s wrong?” Stevie asks, coming out of the bathroom.

“Nothing.” I hold out my arms, and she slides beneath the sheets, curling into my embrace. That seems to be her favorite place and it’s rapidly becoming mine.

“You smell good,” she whispers.

“You do too.” I stroke my hand down her back, hating what she’s been through. I want to protect her from anything else that might hurt her, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep her out of my custody battle. Assuming Brenna doesn’t force the issue.

Short-term, I don’t want Stevie to worry. There’s no point. If and when Brenna brings attorneys into it, then I may have to, but for now I just want to enjoy her. In a few days, the kids will be gone, and even though I’m going to miss them, I’m looking forward to having a little time to focus on Stevie. Hockey season is right around the corner, so this is our chance to see if we have a future.

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