Page 47 of Punked By the Playmaker
“What I’d like to know is who this Maisie Thorne is, because apparently,shewas deemed more worthy of attending the Cleary-Nixon wedding than me.”
Well, at least I knew who spilled the beans.
Blowing out a breath, I said, “Are you sitting down?”
There was a hint of apprehension in my sister’s voice. “Yeah, why?”
“Maisie’s my daughter. She’s twelve years old.”
A bark of laughter sounded in my ear. “Very funny. Even if you did have a kid, which I’m not doubting you do somewhere out there, you’re not old enough to have fathered a twelve-year-old.”
“I would have been nineteen when she was conceived; I was more than physically capable of getting someone pregnant at that age. And it would seem that I did.”
There was a beat of silence. “And you’re just finding out now?”
I cringed. “Yeah.”
“So, some woman’s been hiding your kid for over a decade, and you decide to reward that kind of heartless behavior by marrying her?”
“Okay, I’m gonna need you not to freak out when I tell you this . . .”
“Oh God, what?” I could literally hear her bracing for impact.
“Maisie was given up for adoption when she was born. That’s why I didn’t learn about her existence until now. The woman I married, Arizona, isn’t the woman who gave birth to her.”
There was a beat of silence. “I’m confused. Is your wife—fuck, that’s wild to even say when you’ve been adamant that you’ll stay single until the day you die—your daughter’s adoptive mom?”
“No. But she’s the only reason Maisie hasn’t been placed back in the foster system.”
“F-foster system?” my sister stammered.
Dragging a hand down my face, I sighed. “It’s a really long story, Jenn. All you need to know is that I’m doing whatever is necessary to ensure I don’t lose what’s left of my daughter’s childhood after missing out on the first almost thirteen years.”
She snickered. “Oh boy, I wish I lived closer to watch you figure out raising a preteen girl. That shit’s gotta be more entertaining than television.”
My eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis.”
“Sorry, but there’s literally no one I know less equipped to deal with this situation than you.”
“Going back to bed now,” I muttered.
“Good luck when Mom and Dad find out!” she chirped before hanging up.
I would worry about my parents inevitably beating down the door to meet their first grandchild later. Right now, it was more important that I lock down security under my own damn roof.
Hauling my tired ass out of bed, I tugged on a pair of sweatpants and tossed a T-shirt over my head before leaving the owner’s suite.
My first stop was Maisie’s room, and my fist beat on her door. “Family meeting in the kitchen! Fifteen minutes!”
There was a faint acknowledgment from the other side before I repeated the process at Austin’s door.
Arizona shuffled into the hallway. “What’s going on?”
My eyes were immediately drawn to the sharp points of her nipples poking through the silk fabric of her sleep top, and my dick twitched.
“Throw on a robe and make sure these two get up. I’m running out for donuts, then we need to have a little chat with our minors about what can and cannot be shared on social media.”
A wrinkle formed between her brows. “Huh?”
