Page 41 of Playing Her Game

Reznik

The weather app confirms what I've suspected. The storm's edge sneaks across the radar, smudging sky into a mess of interference. Flights remain grounded, and Chicago's airport reports have nothing optimistic for today.

That’s not saying it isn’t working in my favor…

Anna sits on the edge of the bed, her posture a question mark. That expectation, the manipulation for decades, it hurts her.

I'm careful when I speak. "Weather's gone sideways. No flights until this clears."

Her attention shifts to me, eyebrows slightly lifted as she waits.

"We're off schedule," I continue. "Phoenixes don't need to be in Nashville until the tenth. We've got a game there, then back home on the twentieth. So, no hurry."

She nods, looking past me at the storm-etched window.

"You can stay here as long as you need. It’s quiet, and off-grid enough that your mother can't find you even if she finds a way here, and there's space for whatever you need to think about."

Her response isn't immediate, but when it comes, it’s a polished, polite “Thank you.”

"The house is yours while you’re here, Anna. No strings."

A tiny tremor in her voice betrays her effort to hold on to control. "I appreciate your hospitality.”

I nod, to the door. “Let me give you a quick tour before I head to practice.”

She stands. “Is it safe to travel?”

“You remember the vehicle you rode in last night,” I ask.

“Right,” she says, sliding off a bed that looks much too big for her alone.

I guide her through the lake house with motions that come naturally. Each room offers comfort in its own way—minimalist design, every piece intentional. I gesture toward the kitchen's polished countertops. "Help yourself to food, coffee. Whatever you need."

Her eyes trace the path I describe, inching into new territory. I pull open the fridge, confirming its contents—one less decision she needs to make now.

“I’ll stop and grab anything you need on my way back from practice.”

“You’ll be staying here as well?”

That takes me by a bit of a surprise. “If you need the time alone, it’s yours. But I must admit, I’d really like to spend more time getting to know you.”

I see her head tilt slightly to the side.

“I’ll leave my cell number, think about it.”

“It’s your home, Rez. I⁠—”

“Call me Daniil, Anna.”

“Daniil,” she says with a soft smile.

I like the way it sounds coming from her I think as I step forward, grab the back of her head and pull her into a hug, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Relax today. Watch TV, listen to music, think about what Anna Winterfield wants for her life, not what anyone else’s expectations of you are.”

Igrab my water jug and make my way to the door, walking backward because I am not ready to fucking leave this, whatever it is, yet. "This place isn't asking you to fix anything right now," I say, opening the door that leads to the garage. "You don’t have to be anyone’s perfect daughter in here.”

Anna's gaze anchors me as if she sees more than I've revealed. I know she might not answer; that silence is its own type of language. More than anyone, I understand that.

"See you later," I offer with forced casual ease.