Page 88 of Playing His Game

“Call me Mordechai and we’ll find out.”

“Mowgli. Mort. Mortimer. Motown. Moseph?—”

“That’s not a real name!”

“There’s a kid on my team whose name is Barkly, B-A-R-K-L-Y, like the sound a dog makes, and you want to argue with Moseph?”

“I mean, I also hated the other four.” He shook his head, smiling. “Moseph Du Pont. I don’t know what he does for a living, but he’s definitely adopted.”

“The whole point’s to fix the last name too, right? Two birds, one stone. So something like… Moseph Jortner.”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into simultaneous laughter. “Moseph Jortner. Cuts the grass in dad shorts. What about Mortimer Smith?”

“Hmm. Librarian.” Adam’s eyelids were starting to droop. Obviously, nap time wouldn’t wait much longer. “Moby Johnson.”

“I thinkthatmight be the librarian,” Mo corrected. “Or maybe an English teacher.”

“Lit professor,” Adam said around a yawn. “You get to make more dick jokes when your students are over eighteen.”

“Mo Hill. Always blowing things out of proportion.”

“Maurice Holland.” Adam snuggled deeper into his pillow. “Sounds like the gay old man next-door. S’nice, though.”

“Maurice is a bit too fussy. Guess I’m stuck with Mo.” He watched Adam’s eyes close. “Maybe we’re going about this wrong. Job first, name second. What’s a good mechanic last name? Something plain, no-bullshit. Jones. Taylor.”

“Like a tailor for cars?” Adam’s words came out quieter, a little slurred. Mo needed a few extra seconds to translate. “Y’know what sounds like a guy who owns a garage? Mo Murphy.”

Before Mo could decide how to react, Adam fell asleep.

For a long moment, Mo stared at him. Something in his chest felt wrong, like he’d overtightened his pectorals. His shoulders wanted to curl toward each other.

Adam didn’t mean anything by it, obviously, or he wouldn’t have said it while he was falling asleep. If anything, he was probably calling back to the comment his dad had made about Adam proposing. And he had a point—Mo Murphy did sound like a grease monkey in overalls, the kind who’d wheel out from under your car wiping his hands with a rag.

That was probably why he suddenly ached to be Mo Murphy. The job, of course, and the finality of leaving the last of his parents’ memory behind him.

But… Murphy sounded especially nice. Mo knew the Murphys—loud, friendly people who loved each other, who didn’t stand on ceremony, who packed into one house during the holidayson purposeto see more of each other. There were worse identities to take on. If changing his name could make Mo one of them, he’d do it tomorrow.

But he didn’t get to claim the Murphys like that. He and Adam didn’t have a relationship. By now, Adam must have told his parents they’d broken up. If Mo ever saw them again, they wouldn’t feel the need to include him.

13

Adam was an idiot.

He had known he could never say no to Mo’s face. He should have told him over text that the sex had to end. But Adam was an idiot who avoided the topic, and Mo showed up at his doorstep and they’d had the most confusing, tension-filled sex of Adam’s life. What was another superlative ranking for sex with Mo?

Except this time wasn’t a best or most or greatest. Adam hadn’t known you could pine for a person while inside them. Now he wished he could forget.

At least, after that wrenching conversation, he’d finally gotten some sleep.

Adam hadn’t told the team about the fake breakup—he couldn’t when everyone thought his relationship was real—but all the people in his life had sussed out thatsomethingwas wrong.

Even the rookie was trying to cheer Adam up. Adam barely used Instagram, but he’d never turned his DM notifications off on his very private account, and Picks had sent him thirty-seven Labrador puppy videos in the past day and a half. Either he needed to be talked out of making a rash purchase or he thought Adam was having a severe mental health crisis.

When Adam tried complaining to Jorts on the flight back from their road trip, the whole thing blew up in his face.

“You got into two fights in three games.”

Adam gritted his teeth, then regretted it when the bruise on his jaw twinged. “I’m fine.”