Page 82 of Game Plan

“Thanks, Hannah,” I say. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, rolling her eyes but smiling, nonetheless.

I hit the hallway, heading toward the cafeteria. It’s arguably the best part of the Legends program. The food is phenomenal and the selection is pretty wild. We’re known for having the best dietary staff in the entire league.

I take out my phone as I walk, just in time to see a text from Poppy. I fight the smile tugging at my lips. Just seeing her name on the screen, knowing she’s in my house—probably making a mess of it—brings me more happiness than it should.

She relied on me even though she had tears in her eyes when I walked through the door the other night. There was no sarcastic or flippant response to my offer of support, just an expression of thankfulness. Of trust. It finally feels like she’s starting to lower her shields.

Despite the chaos, she almost seems more relaxed, especially with my affection.

She really is giving us a chance.

Against my better judgment, I have hope. A lot of it.

Poppy: Do you think eating half of a banana (maybe), a mouthful of applesauce, and a little bit of sausage (like two bites) is enough to feed a fourteen-month-old when it’s three in the afternoon?

Poppy: And the beginnings of a remote control if I don’t get over there soon.

I laugh, imagining the scene.

Me: I’m pretty sure she’ll eat if she’s hungry. But I don’t know where the remote fits into the food pyramid.

Poppy: Is that still a thing? Didn’t they turn it upside down or something?

Me: No clue. There are people here who are paid to know that. I just eat what they put in front of me.

Poppy: Oh, the life you live.

You could live it, too. Just say the word.

Me: Is everything else going okay?

Poppy: I’m afraid to say yes because that feels like inviting trouble. So … maybe?

Me: Well, it’s Friday. Why don’t we celebrate surviving the week with a baby?

Poppy: I like the way you think.

Me: It’s one of my best qualities.

My phone rings, and I type out a quick text to Poppy.

Me: Mom is calling. See you in an hour or so.

Poppy: xo

I exit the text app and answer the call. “You didn’t forget me!”

“I don’t have time for your jokes today, young man,” she says. “I feel like a terrible mother. Layla’s messages just came through when we docked in Naples. And I’ve tried to call her back, but she’s not answering. What’s going on?”

“First of all, breathe,” I say, chuckling.

“Finn.”

I motion for the guys in the cafeteria to give me a moment, then move around the corner of the hallway for a bit of privacy. “Everything’s okay. I just talked to Layla. Leon is out of ICU, and she’s optimistic that they can come home in a day or two.”

“How is Branch holding up? How is Gina? I wish I could hug her right now. She must be so scared.”