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“Catherine, it’s been ten months since his amputation. The cancer is gone. He should have started with his prosthesis months ago. I have to side with Mrs. Johnson this time.”
Catherine met her partner’s serious blue gaze and let out a weary sigh. She pushed a strand of hair back over her ear and began straightening the papers scattered on her desk.
“I think I know what’s best for Matty. I don’t need you ganging up on me, too. Not now.”
“You’re going to have to give him some freedom sooner or later. He’s young and active. And healthy. Give him the chance to enjoy what he’s been missing.”
She slammed her hand on her desk. “Not now. Not yet—he’s not ready.”
“Are you sure he’s the one who’s not ready?”
The words hung in the air between them, suspended in the sudden tension that threatened to overwhelm Catherine. Slowly, she released her pent-up breath and focused on the papers in front of her. Brian was right!
If she was completely honest with herself, she’d admit that a large part of the problem with Matty was that she wasn’t ready. His health problems and the resulting amputation had happened too recently. The pain of seeing him suffer was still a raw wound, one she had no intention of reopening. She swallowed around the thickness in her throat.
“His doctor suggested not letting him use the prosthesis now would cause more harm later.” Her words came out as a whisper, not quite hiding the pain and anxiety that was a part of her everyday life. She felt Brian’s gaze on her and reluctantly looked up, putting on her brave face. One glance at his sympathetic expression told her she had failed miserably. She blinked her eyes against the tears that threatened.
“And?”
Catherine took another deep breath and shrugged. “As a doctor, I know he’s right. But as Matty’s mom…I’m afraid he’s not ready yet. I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself. I’m afraid of a million other things I have no control over. I can’t go through that again.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, willing the memories to disappear with the pain. All those months of uncertainty, of anguish. And fear. Her whole life had changed with Matty’s diagnosis, and while he seemed to have made a full recovery, Catherine was still terrified, still not ready to reenter life.
“What does Matty want?” Brian’s quiet voice broke the silence, pulling Catherine from her maudlin thoughts.
Unwilling to meet his clear gaze, Catherine kept her head bent. “I haven’t talked to him about it.”
“Oh, Catherine.”
She finally looked up and saw the censure mixed with sympathy. He shifted in his chair and continued to fix her with that clear gaze, made all the more powerful when seen through his wire-rimmed glasses. The seconds ticked by, echoed by the old grandmother clock that stood in one corner of her office.
“All right, enough of the stare-down. I know I need to talk to him.” Her voice was scratchy and she cleared her throat. “I will. I just need a little more time.”
Brian nodded once, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Fine. I’ll give you a week.”
“Brian—”
He held up one hand to interrupt her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t want to hear it, Catherine. You know as well as I do that you’ll keep putting off telling him, just like you’re putting off living your life. You need the pressure of a deadline hanging over your head. Consider me your deadline. And speaking of living life…” He lifted a bulky package covered with the red and blue tape of a delivery service. “Are you ever going to open this? It’s been sitting out there with your name on it for two days. The staff is dying, wondering what the ever-dependable Dr. Wilson is ignoring.”
Catherine shrugged, feigning indifference. She had seen the package delivered, had even made the mistake of signing for it before she realized what it was. She had tossed it onto the outside desk as soon as she had seen the sender’s name.
“Who says I’m ignoring anything?”
Brian tossed the package onto the desk, where it landed with a gentle smack in the middle of the papers she had just finished stacking. “Then open it.”
“I don’t need to open it.” She pushed it to the side, only to have Brian push it back.
“Don’t you want to see what’s in it?”
“No, not really.” She picked it up and threw it back at him. Brian wasn’t ready for the sudden move and raised his hands in an attempt to ward off the flying missile, deflecting it to protect his face. The package landed at his feet.
“Hmm.” Brian stared down at his feet, then looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in question. Catherine covered her mouth with her hand to hide her embarrassed smile.
“Brian, I am so sorry.”
He waved away her muffled apology and bent down to retrieve the package. He held it out to her, daring her with his eyes to take it, promising dire consequences if she didn’t. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear you were afraid to open it.”
The challenge was clear in his voice and Catherine knew she’d never hear the end of it if she refused. Suddenly irritated with herself, she yanked the package from his hand and violently ripped it open. A fluff of light blue material fell to her desk, followed by a crisp white envelope.
Brian released a low whistle as he pulled the material from her desk and held it up. The fluff turned out to be a jersey emblazoned with the logo of the Baltimore Banners, including Nathan’s name and number. Her heart twisted when she realized it was Nathan’s actual jersey, not a replica.
“Not bad. Matty’ll get a kick out of this. Wish Nathan would have sent me one. These things are a hot commodity right now. Especially with the way the Banners are playing.” Brian motioned to the envelope. “What’s in there?”
“Probably tickets.” She thrust the envelope into his outstretched hand, ignoring the fact that her fingers trembled. “Here. You take them.”
Brian looked at her questioningly then opened the envelope. He studied the contents then looked back at her, a glint in his eyes. Catherine involuntarily pushed away from the desk.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear that you did something to Nathan Conners when he was in here the other day.”
“What? Why? What’s in there?”
“Two tickets for very, very good seats. On the ice. And I mean, on the ice. You can’t buy these seats anywhere—they’re saved for special promotions and businesses.”
Catherine’s throat closed up. She hadn’t expected him to follow through with his promise of tickets, had done her best creative thinking to come up with excuses to tell Matty so he wouldn’t be disappointed when the time came. Now here they were. And not just the tickets, but a jersey, as well. Catherine knew Matty would melt with excitement when he saw them.
“I—I didn’t think…why don’t you take him, Brian? I can’t really see myself at a hockey game.”
“Since when? I mean, I know you don’t follow the players or anything, but I’ve seen you watching with Matty. I think you should go. It’ll be a fun night out for both of you, which is something you definitely need.”
“No, I can’t. I didn’t think he’d send the tickets.” Catherine fought the heat that spread across her face as Brian studied her. He neatly folded the jersey and placed the tickets on top, then crossed his arms and stared at her.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on. I just don’t like the idea of some kid jock sending these things to Matty because he feels guilty.” Catherine inwardly winced at her tone of voice, wondering why she sounded so bitter and cold, knowing she had no reason to feel that way.
“Wait a minute.” Brian leaned across the desk and grabbed one of her hands. “Number one, Nathan is twenty-nine, only a year younger than you. Hardly a kid. Number two, I can’t see him doing anything out of guilt. Number three, why would he feel guilty in the first place?”
Catherine pulled her hand free and gently played with the folds of the jersey in front of her. “Because he made some crack about being confined to a wheelchair then happened to see me with Matthew a few minutes later. Matty knew who he was right away and had to drag me over to get his autograph. That’s the only reason he sent this stuff.”
She squirmed under Brian’s gaze, realized she was still fingering the jersey and quickly sat back. To her own ears, the reply sounded stiff and immature, a complete overreaction, but she didn’t know how to phrase it any differently. There was something about the whole situation—the way he had acted with Matty, the jersey, the tickets…it was too good to be true. She didn’t believe in good fortune, not anymore.
“As far as the wheelchair comment, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that he wouldn’t go to all this trouble just out of guilt. Listen, Catherine, I don’t know Nathan that well, but he is a nice guy. I think you should just take the tickets and go. Matty would enjoy it, and so would you.”
Forget about what happened. How could Catherine explain how that single, haphazard comment had biased her against everything else? The careless way he had let it pass renewed the pain she had felt when they had first told her Matty’s leg would need to be amputated. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and sighed, knowing she would never be able to make Brian understand how much that single comment had hurt her.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” There was a brief pause as Brian studied the tickets then thrust them into her hand. “I hope you made up your mind to go, because the note in here says a limo will be picking you and Matty up in two hours.”
“What?”
“They’re for tonight’s game so you’d better move. Matty would really be disappointed if he found out he had a chance to go and missed it because you couldn’t move fast enough.”
Catherine’s mouth opened and closed but she couldn’t form any words. Brian picked up the jersey then gently led her to the office door, chuckling the entire time.
“Let me know how you enjoy your hockey game, Dr. Wilson.”
The excited screams nearly drowned out the voice and music that blared over the arena loudspeaker. Catherine looked down at Matty, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as he laughed and cheered with the other 19,000 fans that had come to their feet when the Banners scored a few seconds into the third period, widening their lead with a score of 4 to 1.
Catherine leaned back in her seat, the magazine in her hand forgotten as she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy the game. She would never admit it to him but she was glad Brian had all but demanded that she attend tonight. The look of excitement on Matty’s face when he put on the jersey and saw the tickets had been enough to bring tears to her eyes. Seeing the sparkle in his eyes when the limo picked them up had removed all but the smallest doubts that she was doing the right thing.
“Wow! Did you see that, Mom?” Matty finally pulled his attention away from the ice long enough to look over at her. She smiled and reached out a hand to ruffle his short hair, not surprised when he pulled away, his ears pink with embarrassment.
“Yes, I certainly did.” Catherine curled her hand in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out again and pull Matty to her, knowing he would only become more embarrassed. It was so hard not to smother him, so hard to realize that he was growing up in spite of everything he had been through.
A loud thud directly in front of them caused her to jump, forcing her gaze from Matty to the glass. Brian had been right about the seats: they were in the very front row, separated from the players on the ice only by the protective glass.
“Nice hit!”
The voice came from her left, loud enough to be heard over the cries of the crowd. Catherine’s heart gave a funny little lurch before pumping wildly when she saw Nathan Conners standing in the aisle next to Matty, a tray full of drinks and snacks cradled in his large hands. He was still facing the ice and she had time to notice his profile, full of sharp angles that screamed strength and raw power. Her heart gave another lurch when he finally turned and looked down at her, meeting her gaze with a crooked smile before she could look away.
“Hey, Matthew. Mind if I join you? I brought some snacks.”
Catherine’s fists clenched around the magazine as Matty eagerly pointed to the empty seat beside her. She swallowed any comment she might have made, wondering why the hockey player seemed to rub her the wrong way and knowing she couldn’t spoil this night for Matty. Reluctantly burying her pride and anxiety, she rose and moved over one seat before Nathan could maneuver his long legs around the wheelchair.
He sat between them and immediately turned to her, his crooked smile even wider as he offered her a soda. She looked at the paper cup then shook her head, refusing even as she realized how thirsty she was. Nathan looked at her a second longer, his smile losing some of its wattage before he shrugged and turned his attention to Matty.
“So what do you think of the game? Are the seats okay?”
“They’re awesome! Thanks, Mr. Conners. And thanks for this, too. It’s cool.” Matty fingered the jersey that hung on him.
“Nathan. Remember I said you could call me Nathan.”
Catherine watched as the two quickly became engaged in animated conversation and she suddenly felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, a ridiculous notion that didn’t sit well with her. The feeling grew in direct proportion with Matty’s excitement, and she again forced herself to stay quiet. No matter what she thought, Matty seemed to truly like the obtuse man and there was no way she would ruin this for him.
She leaned back and pretended to read the crumpled magazine while studying Nathan from the corner of her eye. Once again she found herself eyeing his legs, long and obviously muscular even in the black dress slacks he wore. He leaned toward Matty, listening attentively. She couldn’t hear the words because of the noise from the crowd, but she saw that crooked smile grow and had no trouble hearing the deep chuckle that rumbled from his broad chest. The sound sent a flash of warmth through her, which only irritated her more.
The shrill horn that signaled another score interrupted their conversation, and Nathan let out a cheer for his teammates as music echoed in the arena. Catherine noticed that he remained seated with Matthew when the crowd surged to its feet, and she couldn’t stop the sudden warming in her heart at the gesture.
Oh, stop it! She shouldn’t let herself feel anything warm toward this complete stranger who had suddenly pushed himself into their lives. The thought sped through her mind even as she tried to force it away. Who said anything about him pushing his way into their lives? Not even close. He just happened to be a patient of Brian’s who suffered from a pang of guilt and gave up a set of tickets to ease his conscience. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. After tonight, they would never see him again.
Nathan laughed at something Matty said, and Catherine wondered why she felt a tinge of regret at her last thought.
Stop it! she chided herself again and squirmed in the seat, trying to get comfortable and pretend she wasn’t bothered. The man on her right was also squirming and it took a few minutes before she realized he was deliberately pushing against her to get her attention. She turned to him, knowing there was a frown on her face and not caring. She hoped it would make him sit still.
“Lady, can you ask Nathan to sign this?”
Catherine looked down at the souvenir Banners pennant and black marker the man had thrust into her hand and rolled her eyes. She leaned over and nudged Nathan in the shoulder, pushing him harder than was necessary. He turned to her, those tawny eyes widened in shock as he rubbed at the spot she had touched.
“Here. He wants you to sign this.” She motioned to the man beside her and nearly threw the flag in Nathan’s lap, then sighed loudly as he took it and leaned across her to speak to the man. He was so close that she could smell the aftershave he wore, a light scent of something outdoorsy mingled with the clean aroma of soap.
Catherine held her breath. She refused to be drawn in even as her eyes swept over his features, from his strong jaw to the soft hair that swept just below the collar of his sports coat, to the rounded curve of his ear. She wondered suddenly if the spot on his neck below his ear was as sensitive as it looked. He was close enough that all she had to do was lean slightly forward before her lips—
She sat bolt upright, mortified at the thoughts running through her mind. “This is ridiculous!”
Nathan turned his head to look at her, so close that his mouth nearly brushed against her cheek. Catherine stood, not caring that she came close to knocking Nathan out of his seat, not caring that the man to her right was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. She pushed her way across Nathan, getting tangled in his feet and nearly tripping until he put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She ripped her arm out of his grasp and leaned over Matty, wanting to leave right that minute but knowing her irrational reaction would only hurt him.
“I’m getting something to drink. Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” Matty looked up at her with round eyes and she had the uncanny feeling that he saw more than she wanted him to see. “Are you okay, Mom? Your face is all red.”
Catherine ignored Nathan’s soft chuckle as she leaned over and brushed a kiss over Matty’s forehead, assuring him that she was fine before climbing the steps to the main concourse.
Nathan turned in his seat and followed her progress up the stairs, smiling to himself as he watched the angry sway of her hips. She looked different from when he had first seen her at the office. Her dark blond hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, a stark contrast to the deep green sweater that she wore. She turned and looked back, and he saw the flash of fire in her brown eyes even from that distance.
He chuckled to himself then finished scrawling his autograph and handed the flag back to the man. He turned to Matthew. “I don’t think your mom likes me too much.”
“Nah. She likes you. Mom likes everyone.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Of course. That’s her job.”
Nathan studied the boy, surprised at his enthusiasm. The bulky wheelchair seemed out of place in an area so full of activity but Matthew didn’t seem to notice. He sat up straight, a soda in one hand as he watched the action on the ice in front of him. The jersey Nathan had sent with the tickets was too big for him, hanging on the boy’s slight frame. The way all boys wore sports jerseys, Nathan thought. His gaze traveled down, resting on the wad of denim that was neatly folded and pinned just below the knee.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Nathan looked up and saw Matthew’s eyes on him, felt a rush of embarrassment when he realized he had been caught staring. He cleared his throat and offered him an awkward smile. “Sorry.”
Matthew shrugged and took a noisy slurp of the soda. “That’s okay. Lots of people stare. I’m used to it. You can ask if you want, it doesn’t upset me.”
“Ask you what?”
“How it happened. Everybody does. They had to cut it off because of the tumor.”
“Tumor?”
“Some kind of cancer. But it’s all gone now. That’s why they cut it off.”
Nathan felt the color drain from his face and he took a long swallow of soda to hide his embarrassment. Good Lord, what the poor kid must have gone through. It was a wonder Dr. Wilson really hadn’t thrown him out of her office the other day—through the window. At least it explained why the temperature had dropped so dramatically when he showed up tonight.
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Ten months ago. I’m going to get a pro—prost…a fake leg soon. Mom doesn’t think I’m ready yet, but the doctors do.”
“How come she doesn’t think you’re ready?”
Matthew turned to face him, a look of pure annoyance scrunching his features so comically that Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. It was the look boys of all ages used whenever they didn’t get their own way. “She doesn’t even know I know I can get one—she thinks I’m going to get hurt.”
“Hmm. I think I can see why she’d think that. I get the idea you’re all rough and tumble.”
“Mom says I’m hell on wheels right now.”
Nathan’s eyes widened, momentarily stunned at the no-nonsense tone of the boy’s voice. He noticed the flush creeping up from Matthew’s collar and knew the words had been said for effect only. “She does, huh?”
“Uh-huh. She says it’s probably a good thing she knows lots of doctors because I’m going to give her a heart attack.” Matthew pulled his attention from the game and studied Nathan with such an intense scrutiny that he had the sudden desire to squirm in his seat. “Do you like her?”
Nathan squarely met the boy’s serious gaze with one of his own, feeling like his intentions were suddenly being questioned. “Yeah, Matthew, I do.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Matthew’s face lit up with a huge smile and Nathan let out the breath he had been holding, feeling very much as if he had just passed some required test. The relief rolled over him unexpectedly and he was unable to suppress the stupid grin he knew was on his face.
The light feeling dimmed momentarily when a short blast of the siren sounded, this time signaling a score for the opposing team. Nathan bit back a curse and focused his attention on the JumboTron to watch the replay, surprised he had missed it.
A groan escaped him when he saw that the rookie playing his spot had failed to clear the puck from in front of the net, letting the other team score. One hand reached down and absently rubbed his knee, willing it to heal faster so he could get back to playing. He couldn’t afford to spend too much more time off the ice. If he did, there was a chance he’d miss making it to the finals. The way the Banners were playing, there was no doubt they’d be in the running for the Cup this year.
“Nathan?”
“What?” He flinched at the sharpness of his own voice and made an effort to soften it with a smile at Matthew.
“Don’t worry, you’ll play again. I know you will.” The certainty in the child’s voice touched a hidden spot deep inside him, a spot he didn’t want to examine too closely. Swallowing hard, he leaned over and ruffled the kid’s hair then pulled back guiltily when Dr. Wilson came to a stop behind the wheelchair. There was no mistaking the glint of warning in her eyes as she stared down at him.
The shrill sound of the buzzer echoed off the ice and pierced the noise of the crowd, silencing the excuse that had formed on his lips as effectively as it signaled the end of the game. The cheering crowd moved to its feet and slowly turned into a throng of beasts just two steps shy of a stampede, doing their best to scramble out of the arena. Nathan was struck by the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the three of them, setting them apart from the hordes. Embarrassment raced through him when he realized they were waiting for the crowd to thin before moving Matty’s wheelchair.
He glanced at his watch. “Hey, Matty, how’d you like to go meet everyone?”
“I don’t think—”
“Oh, too cool!” Matthew’s squeal of excitement drowned out the doctor’s objection. “Please, Mom, can I?” He turned in his wheelchair and looked up at her with wide brown eyes full of pleading, and Nathan knew that whatever objections she had been about to voice just died a swift death. Hell, even he wouldn’t have been able to resist that look. He noticed the doctor’s pursed lips and met her narrowed eyes as she reluctantly nodded her consent. Without a doubt, Matty knew exactly what buttons to push with his mom. Nathan decided he’d have to talk to the kid and find out what he was doing wrong. There was no doubt he was pushing the good doctor’s buttons, too.
It was just a shame they were all the wrong ones.
Chapter Three
Sweat poured from Nathan’s face; he reached up and absently wiped the stinging from his eye. Focus. He needed to focus. He struggled against the weight, feeling the pull in his knee. Focus! He repeated the word with a mental shout, over and over until the refrain obliterated the tearing pain he felt.