Page 113 of Punked By the Playmaker
“Oh my God.” I groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “I’m fucking exhausted.”
Arizona laughed, climbing on top of me for a cuddle. “Bet you have a whole new respect for coaches and teachers right about now.”
“Hell yeah, I do.”
My wife sighed happily. “For as wiped out as I am, my heart’s never been so full.”
On that, we could agree. Maisie’s camp brought joy to so many kids and their families, leaving a lasting impression none of us would soon forget.
“With the right support, that girl is going to change the world,” I mused.
Arizona propped her chin on my chest. “And we’re the lucky ones who get a front-row seat to watch it happen.”
Ding-dong.
“My muscles are shot,” I complained. “Gonna need at least five business days before I can move again.”
Arizona kissed my cheek, pushing upright. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it.”
Her footsteps padded over hardwood on her way to the door, but when she pulled it open, there was an inhale of surprise. “Jonathan? What are you doing here?”
So much for never getting up.
With a grunt, I heaved myself off the couch to join my wife and our unexpected visitor.
Sure enough, our family lawyer was standing on the porch, briefcase in hand.
He immediately picked up on our confusion. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”
Dread settled like a rock in my gut as I dared to ask, “Who was supposed to tell us what?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Jonathan replied, “Austin and Maisie.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They made it sound like you knew.”
“Knew what?” Arizona pressed.
“Maybe it’s best if they tell you. Are they home?”
“Maisie! Austin!” I bellowed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.
The sound of bedroom doors opening came from upstairs, and two heads appeared over the railing at my summons.
Austin’s eyes slid to Maisie, who chirped, “Hi, Mr. King!”
I folded both arms over my chest. “Which one of you wants to explain what’s going on?”
The pair of siblings looked at each other, sharing some kind of silent communication.
Eventually, Austin held his hands up and shook his head. “This is all you, sis.”
It wasn’t exactly surprising that my daughter was the mastermind of whatever scheme they’d cooked up. I swear that girl’s brain worked overtime, always coming up with ideas—some of which were better in theory than in practice.
The teens traipsed down the steps together. When they reached the bottom, Maisie announced, “We want you to be our parents.”
I cast a glance at Arizona before stating the obvious. “We already are your parents.”
Maisie rolled her eyes, but the move lacked attitude. “Obviously, we know that. But I want Arizona to be my mom for real, and Austin wants you to be his dad.”
“For real,” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
