"If not, you can write her another one." He kissed the side of her head. "It was nice of her to send you pictures."
"She looks happy, huh?"
"You look like your mom." He chuckled. "Even your nose is the same."
"Yeah." She sighed. "I miss her, but yet I'm so happy she's doing what she loves, and now she's met a guy...a doctor. There are so many changes happening for everyone."
"Good stuff." Wyatt strummed her leg with his thumb. "Do you have plans for Friday night?"
"None that I know of. Why?"
"I want to go out." He leaned his head against the back of the couch.
She smiled and snuggled against him. "Just us?"
He grunted in agreement. "I want to take you to Riverside Bar."
She sat up straight and looked at him, trying to hide her disappointment. Friday nights were for pool tournaments at the bar. Since the awful experience of being held captive by Dean Miller and dislocating her shoulder, she hadn't played a single game. It wouldn't be a relaxing time away with Wyatt with the games going on in the background and knowing she wouldn't be playing.
As soon as the swelling had gone down in her shoulder, she'd started using her arm more. There was a little weakness left in her shoulder that caused her hand to shake if she held her arm up for longer than a minute. For the last two weeks, she'd fallen back on exercising to videos and lifting Campbell soup cans in the air to regain her strength and steadiness.
"Could we go somewhere else?" She glanced at him. "There's a new bar over on Evergreen Street that has music on Friday and Saturday. Donna told me it's fun and lively."
He shook his head. Her heart sank.
She hadn't discussed her doubts about her shoulder with Wyatt. He worried about her, and technically, she was fine. Dr. Graham had diagnosed her as fully healed. There was no pain, and she could do everything like normal. Except, she knew her body and the strength and steadiness she needed to shoot pool. She wasn't sure she'd ever play at the skill level she was at before the injury, and honestly, she was afraid to find out.
"You need to get back in your routine and start playing again." His gaze softened. "Chalk up that cue stick and kick some ass."
"Wyatt..." She closed her mouth, knowing if she spoke her disappointments out loud, it would be real. Too real. "There's no reason to play now. I'm not even close to having the money for the Blackfoot Tournament, and the deadline is next week."
His mouth softened, and he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. The tenderness and understanding, coming from him, brought her carefully hidden emotions to the surface. She kissed him, unable to voice how much she appreciated his support.
They'd entered a new level in their relationship. It continually surprised her how much he could read her moods and figure out what was wrong before she could figure things out in her head on her own.
"About that..." He kissed her again. "There is a reason to play."
She pulled back. "What do you mean?"
He lifted her, setting her on her feet. She watched him walk out of the room, and the door open. Concerned, she stepped around the coffee table to follow, and he came back in, carrying a bag.
"What's this?" she asked, sitting back down on the couch.
He set the sack on the coffee table and lifted out a blue lightweight bomber jacket and turned it around. On the back of the coat were multiple patches.
Her gaze zeroed in on the top one. Carr Construction.
She read down. Banks' Body Shop. Moore's Gas Station. Cruiser Outfitters. Lainer's Towing.
She looked up at Wyatt. Confusion mixed with hope and tangled with guilt. He wouldn't have. Would he?
Wyatt pointed to the plain black patch with a gray and red stripe. "These colors represent Tarkio Motorcycle Club. They preferred not to have their name advertised on the jacket. These, tiger, are all your sponsors."
He set the coat on her lap. She trailed her hand over all the patches, trying to make sense of why she'd have a sponsored jacket for a Friday night pool tournament at Riverside Bar.
Wyatt sat down on the coffee table in front of her and held out a zippered pouch, adding it to the jacket on her lap. "There's ten thousand dollars in there. All you have to do is enter the Blackfoot Tournament, and you're all set."
Her heart pounded. Hope filled her. She would never have asked others to support her. To give her money, expecting nothing back in return, except free advertisement on a jacket and on the pamphlet that would be handed out during the tourney.
"Are you serious?" She gawked at him. "All...all these places donated money so I could play?"
"Every business on there is owned by a Tarkio Motorcycle Club member. They support their own. They're showing good faith in our family that I will be voted in during the April meeting next year." He captured her knees between his legs and leaned forward, grabbing her hands and holding them in his. "They expect nothing in return. Win or lose, whatever happens, that's for you."
"Oh, God." She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes filling with tears. "I never dreamed..."
He stood, pulling her to her feet. She gazed at him, unable to accept that Wyatt had really come to her apartment and given her the biggest gift anyone had ever given her.
"First thing first. You need to—"
"Practice. I know. I'm so behind. I have to get my shoulder in top shape. I need a new
