The words didn’t surprise Natalie—they confirmed what she’dsuspected—but they whiplashed her nonetheless. Wasn’t this a betrayal?
Kristin’s doleful eyes searched hers. Forforgiveness? Permission to take her husband back?Whatever it was, the look touched Natalie’s soul. She knew how it feltto lose someone you loved, and her heart ached for this woman, this family.
What was best for Team Kevin?
A moment of exquisite clarity settled over Natalie.
.~* * * ~.
Among T.J.’s cringe-worthy attemptsat sexting Natalie, he’d found another text. This onelifted his spirits.
Finally got court time. Be at Twentieth Street Rectomorrow. Price of admission is beer and women. No excuses!
It was tomorrow, and T.J. had run through a solidworkout with the Blizzard trainers. Shooting practice with a few guys from aDenver rec league—one of them a damn good goalie—had followed. They’d chattedafterward, the guys telling him how much they appreciated the opportunity.
“It’s hard to get ice time,” one guy said.
“Yeah, with the explosion of youth hockey, even the 2:00a.m. slots are filled. About our only option isdriving four hours to fucking Steamboat when they’re not having atournament,” another guy grumbled.
“Used to be you could party all night, then take the ice andwork it out of your system,” the goalie chortled.
After showering, T.J. drove to the No Excuses! game, his mind working over a common problem for the adultrec leagues: lack of places to play consistently. Scrambling for access todecent facilities, competing for scarce resources would suck big-time,especially for a group like No Excuses! And they were worthier than just aboutanyone he could think of.
An idea sparked. Could he help them? At a stop sign, hescrolled through his contacts and placed a call.
“Millsy? Got a minute?”
.~* * * ~.
Natalie sat flipping through afoodie magazine while she waited for Kevin in his room. Her mind had beenspinning like a runaway water meter since her conversation with Kristin, andthe magazine was doing squat to distract her—it only reminded her how hungryshe was.
The door swung open, and Kevin rolled in attempting awheelie, an exasperated attendant behind him. His eyes caught on Natalie.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he said. “I thought Kris might be heretoo.”
Was that disappointment in his voice?
“She had to pick up Emma from preschool, but they’ll beback. How are the headaches?” Natalie kept her butt firmly planted in the seatand waited. An odd thing happened. Kevin went straight to a nearby chair andhoisted himself into it, bypassing his usual kiss and hug. She felt like theother half of an old married couple that didn’t bother with affection anymore.
The attendant left the room with the wheelchair, and Kevinexhaled, his relief palpable. “My head feels like just one snare drum’spounding and not a whole drum kit today.”
Natalie studied him. Was he giving off a different vibe, orwas she just hypersensitive? “I hear you might be upgrading to new quarters.”
“That’s what they tell me. So I can learn how to turn offlights and shower by myself.” His tone was sarcastic, but then he abruptlyswitched to playful and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’m pretty sure I can’thandle the shower alone.”
Astonishment twisted her tongue, and she couldn’t form, muchless utter, a word.
“You’re ignoring me.” He grinned—no, leered—at her. “Howabout a sponge bath instead?” Yep, he’d totally meant what he’d said. A shiverof something—disgust, guilt?—raced along her spinewhile awkward sang out in her brain.
This was not normal Kevin behavior. Then again, what was normalKevin behavior? She was adrift with no way to gauge, but a definite creepfactor was settling in. One she didn’t like.
“Um, I think it’s best to leave that up to the nurses.”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and left them there.“Yuck. The only nurses I get are the dudes and the old fatties.” His eyesreturned to hers, then slid up and down her body. “I’d like one that looks likeyou or Kris. Maybe you can put on one of those sexy nurse outfits—”
Okay. Now he was pissing her off. “Ask Kris,” she snapped.But what exactly was making her mad? That he included Kris in his littlefantasy, or something else? A large dose of inexplicable defensiveness surged.
A soft chuckle. “Damn. I was hopingI could talk you both into it.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Apparently you are feelingbetter.”
“Maybe,” he sighed. “Christ, Nat, I don’t have a fuckingclue. All I know is I want the hell out of this place. Not just this room, but the whole damn situation. It just feels like time’s at astandstill.”
Shit. Now she felt like a total jerk. She softened her tone.“It must be frustrating. Have you thought about what going home looks like whenthey finally release you for good?”
He turned his head and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you hire someone tohelp around the house? And what about PT visits?”
He blinked. “I have no idea.”
She inhaled quickly, saying aloud what she’d been practicingfor the last half hour. “Have youthought about staying with Kris and Emma, at least until you’re back to whereyou were?”
He turned his head away. “Kris and I have talked about it,”he said softly.
A virtual gut check had Natalie’s blood rising again. But itwas a weird dynamic: part-hurt and part-relief. Relief overwhat, exactly? She told herself it was because someone who loved himwould take care of him twenty-four-seven, but underneath lurked a differentsort of relief, a wholly selfish one. Grace Guilt rose up and wagged anaccusing finger at her. Natalie ignored her, her mind tracking in anotherdirection.
She laced her hands together. “Do you ever think aboutgetting back together with Kris?”
Guilt-ridden eyes jumped back to hers. “Sometimes,” hecroaked.
Something tugged in her chest, and she felt like a wrigglingfish that had been unhooked and placed back in the water. She could breatheagain. It told her volumes she wasn’t prepared to examine yet, such as: Howmuch of her magnanimous gesture was driven by her waning stick-to-itiveness? By her desire to escape her Kevin Conundrum?
She patted Kevin’s arm. “Kris really cares about you. Ifthere’s an iota of a chance …”
“What about you?”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about
