The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (77)

I unlock the screen and scroll into my messages, where a brand-new one from “C” sits right at the top.

Part of me knows I shouldn’t open it, but another part of me is too curious not to.

C: Sometimes when opportunity knocks, it’s from the same side of the door you’re already on.

Okay, why did I open this thing again?

Annoyed by Cleo’s vagueness, I click out of her text without answering and shake my head at my phone. Just below her message, though, is an old thread with Maria, and an idea hits me.

Quickly, I type out a message and hit send, confident that her phone is still in the bedroom on her nightstand, and tuck my cell back into my pocket.

Not wanting to disturb them if Izzy’s almost asleep, I only peek into the nursery, holding on to the jamb of the door and leaning inside. But I’m surprised to find that Izzy is already back at rest, fast asleep in her crib, while Maria paces the room doing mundane chores.

“Ria,” I call softly, getting her attention just as she’s tucking some outfits into the top drawer of Izzy’s dresser. Her head jerks up at the sound of my voice, and she glances back at Izzy, who hasn’t even shifted an inch.

I wave Maria out of the room, and she comes—hesitantly.

I wait just outside the door for her and then nod toward the living room when she stops right in front of me.

She takes the lead, and I watch her hips sway powerfully from side to side. I practically have to bite into the flesh of my lip to stop my groan.

I cannot fucking believe I’m leaving right now. What a fucking douche adult Remy has turned out to be. Seventeen-year-old Remy never would have made this same decision. Not in a million years.

No, when it came to Maria Baros, seventeen-year-old me had balls and brains.





Twenty-Seven Years Ago…

Senior year, Friday night in early October

Remy

Two steps out of the locker room and my arms are full of cheerleader. Excited, exuberant, and enthusiastic, Maria never waits for me to get any farther before throwing herself into my arms, win or lose.

But this time, with a win against our biggest rivals in the county, she has so much energy she nearly knocks me over.

“You played awesome!” she squeals into my ear and plants a smacking kiss to my lips.

I spot Winnie and Isabella giggling over Maria’s shoulder, always amused by how “lovey-dovey” the two of us are. But Wendy Winslow always taught me to show affection for the people I care about. It’s like writing a story, she always says. You have to show them, not just tell them.

“Thanks, babe,” I tell her and return her affection with several playful, sweaty kisses all over her face. I don’t stop until she’s giggling me away.

A couple of the guys coming out of the locker room catch sight of our display and start mocking me with smacking kissing noises and wrapping their arms around themselves.

Idiots.

“Coming to pizza, Winslow?” a linebacker named Chris pipes up.

“Or are you too busy playing house with the wife and kids?” another guy named Nate adds with a nod toward Maria and our little sisters.

Maria shifts away self-consciously, and Winnie and Isabella stop laughing. My hackles have risen, and I’m just about to tell Nate to go fuck himself when Coach Rydell approaches and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Probably a good idea for the team to go out together, boys. Just because you got a win tonight doesn’t mean you can quit putting in the work. Go eat pizza and talk about the shit you need to fix for next game.”

My jaw hardens as Maria backs away completely, a hollow version of her earlier excitement as she wraps her arms around Winnie’s and Isabella’s shoulders and smiles down at them. “No worries, guys,” she tells our sisters. “The three of us will go eat and meet Remy after.”

Her eyes are understanding and compassionate and completely fucking sad.

And I’ll be fucked if I’m going to leave her like that to go to dinner with douchebags like Chris and Nate. Truthfully, it doesn’t even matter that a lot of the guys on my team are good buddies. I have somewhere else more important to be.

“Sorry, Coach, but I already have plans tonight that I can’t break. Next time,” I state definitively, not leaving any room for argument before walking away.

Chris and Nate guffaw and cut up under their breath, and I’m sure Coach is wearing none other than his steeliest of jaws. But I don’t give a shit.

And when I catch up with Maria and Winnie and Isabella and see the resulting smiles on their faces, I don’t regret my decision.

Football is just a game. Nothing less or more than that.

But Maria and our sisters? They’re my priority here. Period.





Still Wednesday, October 9th

Remy

“Maria, if it weren’t for work, I wouldn’t be leaving right now.”

Younger me knew better. Younger me left no fucking doubt. Well, at least the younger you that understood what he had when Maria was on his arm. The moron who let her go right before leaving for college—and then dropped out after a year to day trade anyway—clearly had a serious lapse in judgment.

She stops just outside the living room and turns to face me with the kind of neutrality on her face I know has to be forced because the dimple in her cheek shows her truth. “Remy, you don’t have to feel bad about leaving. Of course you have a job. A life. More important things to do.”