It was only a couple of minutes before Kenny shuffled out onto the porch, wearing a muscle shirt, a pair of holey jeans and no shoes. “Coach,” he said, his voice sullen.

  Gabe rolled back and motioned for Kenny to sit in the chair he’d just brought. Kenny’s eyebrows lifted when he saw it, but he didn’t ask where it had come from. “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Gabe indicated his face. “Looks that way.”

  Kenny’s chin came up. “He got the worst of it.”

  “That’s what I hear. But you could have broken a hand last night. Do you realize that?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Where would the team be if our starting quarterback broke his hand before the season began?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe the team would be better off.”

  “How?”

  “Jonathon Greer could play.”

  “He could, but you’re better at avoiding a sack. You know that, right? You know our chances of winning go down if you don’t play?”

  “No.”

  Gabe waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “What was the fight with Sly all about, Kenny?”

  Kenny seemed to be studying his bare feet. “Nothing.”

  “You banged him up that bad without a reason?”

  “He’s got a big mouth, that’s all. He doesn’t know when to leave me alone.”

  “You’ve never had a problem with Sly before.”

  “I’ve never liked him,” Kenny said.

  “But you’ve never had a problem with him.”

  No response.

  “Is there anything going on with the team that I should know about?”

  He rubbed his neck but continued to avoid Gabe’s eyes. “No, Coach. Not that I know of.”

  Gabe wished Kenny’s body language was half as convincing as his words. He decided to be more direct. “Coach Blaine hasn’t contacted you, has he?”

  His eyes darted up. “About what?”

  “About anything.”

  He blinked several times, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “No, sir.”

  Kenny had spoken so softly Gabe could scarcely hear him. “What?”

  “I said no.”

  “Then, we’re all set for our first game this week?”

  Kenny’s gaze fell again, but he nodded.

  “You don’t seem too excited.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You’re going to play your heart out during that game, right?”

  Kenny’s shoulders rounded a little more. “Yes, sir.”

  Gabe put a hand on his arm. Finally, Kenny looked up. “I’m counting on you.”

  He nodded.

  “Will you get my dog and tell your mother good-night for me?”

  “Sure.” He started into the house but paused on the doorstep. “Coach?”

  “Yes?”

  “I—I think you’re doing a good job. With the team, I mean.”

  “Thanks,” Gabe said, wishing Kenny would open up to him. Gabe had been hoping that Mike was wrong. But after talking to Hannah’s son, he was more convinced than ever that something was going on.

  So what did he do about it? Did he save Kenny from himself by pulling him from the game? Did he pull other key starters, as well? Did he complain about Blaine to the school board and try to get him fired?

  No, he couldn’t do any of that. He had no proof. Blaine might not be his favorite person, but the guy deserved the chance to prove himself one way or the other.

  The proof would be in the game. On Friday, Gabe would know who was really on his team—and who wasn’t.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HANNAH PULLED ON HER NIGHTGOWN and washed her face before knocking softly on Kenny’s door. She hadn’t wanted to pounce on him the second he came in from outside. When she’d summoned him to speak to Gabe, he’d looked pretty beleaguered. Considering how sore he must be from the fight, and the way Russ was behaving, suddenly taking a stand against something he normally would have applauded as a healthy display of masculinity, Kenny’s day had probably not been a very good one.

  “What did Gabe have to say?” she asked when her son told her to come in.

  “Just the usual,” he muttered. In bed with the lights off, he had Sheryl Crow on the stereo.

  Hannah could smell a hint of the sweaty socks and T-shirts he tossed in the hamper instead of the basket on the washing machine, and the dirt on the tennis shoes and cleats that were supposed to be left in the garage but were in the middle of his floor. Both smells reminded her of Kenny as a little boy. But she could also detect the Abercrombie & Fitch cologne her son had wanted for his birthday and ordered through the Internet. He only wore it when he went out on the weekends, but it was that particular scent that made her realize how soon he’d be an adult. In three years he’d graduate from high school and head off to college. It was hard to believe.

  Then it’d be just her and Brent.

  “What’s the usual?” she asked. “Surely the head coach doesn’t visit every player before a big game.”

  “I’m the quarterback, Mom. Coach Holbrook wanted to know if I was ready to play on Friday, that’s all.”

  She moved away from the door frame and sat on the foot of his bed. “So not only are you getting to play, you’re starting.”

  “I guess.”

  “Doesn’t that make you happy?”

  “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound too happy.

  “Are you ready?”

  He sighed heavily. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

  “Your father seemed a little upset tonight.”

  Kenny shoved up onto his elbows. “What does he have to be upset about? I apologized to Sly, like he wanted me to.”

  “He’s afraid you’re mad at him for forcing the issue.”

  “I am!”

  “I think he was trying to do the right thing, Kenny. Fighting isn’t any way to resolve a problem.”

  “Dad doesn’t care about fighting, Mom. If I would have hit someone else, he would have been fine with it.”

  So much for supporting Russ. Hannah bit her lip for a moment, then tried again. “I know, but…in his own way, I think your dad is trying to take care of you. He loves you.”

  “He’s confusing me,” Kenny said.

  “About what?”

  “About a lot of things. Doesn’t he think I’m good enough to make it in football without…kissing up to the coaches?”

  She straightened his blankets. “He thinks he was robbed of certain opportunities. He doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

  “I wish he’d just stay out of my business.”

  Taking his chin, she forced him to look at her. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on, with your father, the fight, football? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

  “It’s nothing.” He fell back and covered his eyes with his arm for a few seconds, then peeked at her again. “Do you like Coach Holbrook, Mom?”

  Hannah’s heart skipped a beat. She liked Coach Holbrook, all right. She liked him a lot. Too much. But a second later, she realized Kenny wasn’t asking about that kind of like. “I, um, do. He’s—” drop-dead gorgeous, a skillful lover, and infuriatingly complex “—a good guy.” She moved Kenny’s alarm clock over on his nightstand because it gave her something to do with her hands. “What about you? Do you like him?” She told herself it didn’t matter, that she wasn’t going to get involved with Gabe romantically again, but she couldn’t help wanting her sons to think well of him.

  He nodded. “Every play has to be absolutely perfect before we leave practice, but…he seems cool, you know? Except when he looks at me with those sharp eyes.”

  “Sharp eyes?”

  “It’s like they’re sending a message—‘Come on, you can do it.’ It makes me want to be sure I don’t let him down, you know?”

  “Mom?” Brent’s voice reached her from down the hall.

  “What?” Hannah called.

  “Can I have the two dollars you owe me?”

  “For what?”

  “Weeding the yard.”

  “When did you weed the yard?”

  “When we got home today.”

  “That’s fine.” She turned back to Kenny. “Sounds like Gabe has a lot of confidence in you.”

  “Maybe too much,” Kenny grumbled.

  “Mom?” Brent again.

  “What?”

  “Can I go ahead and get the money?”

  “Sure.” Hannah bent to pick up the basketball shorts Kenny had obviously dropped on the floor just prior to climbing into bed. “Sly had to get stitches last night, you know,” she said, folding the shorts.

  “I heard.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “His mother expects me to pay the doctor bill.”

  “I’ll pay it,” he said. “Or work the money off somehow.”

  “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest.” She held up the folded shorts. “Clean or dirty?”

  “Clean.”

  Moving across the room, she put them in a drawer. “Well, I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll let you—”

  She didn’t finish because Brent startled them both by suddenly barging into the room and flipping on the light.

  Hannah opened her mouth to tell him to turn it off. He’d just blinded her and Kenny. But then she felt her stomach drop to her knees. She wasn’t so blind that she couldn’t see Brent had a hold of Gabe’s T-shirt.

  “What’s this?” he asked, holding it up in apparent confusion.

  For a moment, Hannah’s mind raced. How was she going to explain having a man’s shirt in her purse? Especially Gabe’s? “A…T-shirt.”

  “Whose is it?” Kenny asked his brother.

  “How should I know? I just pulled it out of Mom’s purse.”

  “I found it,” Hannah said because she couldn’t come up with anything more plausible.

  Kenny sat up to get a better look. “Where?”

  On top of Gabe’s hamper… “On my drive.”

  “You found a shirt while you were driving?” Kenny’s expression reflected his confusion. “Was it lying on the side of the road or something?”

  Or something… Hannah quickly crossed the room and snatched the shirt away. “It’s just a shirt I found, nothing to worry about. Time for bed, you two.”

  “But I didn’t get my money,” Brent complained.

  “I’ll get it for you.” Hannah shooed her youngest from the room and closed the door behind her—before Kenny could recognize the shirt as one Gabe might have worn to practice.

  * * *

  WHEN THE HOUSE FELL QUIET, Hannah headed to the kitchen for a glass of wine, where she gazed at Gabe’s Hawaii T-shirt. If not for that piece of proof, she might have convinced herself that today hadn’t been real—that it had been just another one of her Gabe Holbrook fantasies.

  The memory of Gabe pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply caused excitement to sweep through her again. She was so infatuated with him….

  The phone rang. Straightening, she glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight on a Saturday, which meant Russ was probably calling her from the Honky Tonk. Sometimes when he got drunk, he called to cuss her out for leaving him. Other times, he cried and begged her to come back to him.

  Tonight she wasn’t sure she could deal with either extreme, especially because he was sure to have something to say about Gabe dropping by. But if she didn’t answer, he might drive over. Then they’d fight, possibly wake the boys and disturb the neighbors…. She definitely didn’t want that.

  “Hello?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  It was Gabe. Relief, surprise and awareness assaulted Hannah all at once. “No, I’m not in bed yet.”

  He said nothing.

  Wetting her lips, she held the phone to her ear with her shoulder and instinctively tightened the drawstring on her pajama pants. “But Kenny’s asleep, if you called to talk to him.”

  He chuckled softly. “No, I’ve got the right person.”

  More silence.

  “Gabe?”

  “What?”

  “Are you going to tell me why you called?”

  “I need someone to come over and help me eat all these strawberries.”

  Hannah pressed his T-shirt to her face as she imagined his strong arms going around her….

  “Hannah?”

  She lifted her head. “Sounds like an emergency.”

  “It is. Can you come tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “They go bad fast.”

  She could hear the teasing in his voice and laughed. “Not that fast.”

  “Ask Marge over at Finley’s if you don’t believe me.”

  “Finley’s is closed.”

  He sighed, no doubt for her benefit. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me, then.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to drop the phone, scoop up her keys and dash off to his place. It had been three hours since she’d been with him and already she was dying to touch him again. This wasn’t good…. “I—I can’t come over.”

  “Why not?” he said.

  “I already told you I won’t be coming back.”

  “Fortunately, you didn’t mean it.”

  She shook her head at his response. “How do you know?”

  “I was there, too, remember? I heard how you said my name when I slipped my—”

  “Gabe!”

  Another soft laugh. “Okay,” he said. “Call me when you’re ready.”

  A second later, the dial tone hummed in Hannah’s ear. He’d hung up—but not before making a significant dent in her defenses. Hannah didn’t know whether to be relieved that she’d held tough or disappointed. She supposed she felt a little of both. She also suspected Gabe had only been testing her resistance, letting her know his door was still open so the temptation could continue to work on her long after he hung up.

  He was so arrogant, she thought. But she was relieved to find all his former confidence hadn’t really deserted him. He was regaining his balance….

  She smiled as she finished her wine. Ever since the accident, she’d been praying for Gabe to get back on his feet, figuratively if not literally. She always hoped her prayers would be answered. But she never imagined she’d have a front-row seat to his recovery.

  She was just gathering his shirt when the doorbell sounded.

  “Not now,” she muttered.

  Dropping Gabe’s shirt on the table, she padded through the living room and checked the peephole to find Russ on her porch. Summoning patience, she opened the door. “Did you forget something, Russ?”

  He ignored the question and stabbed a finger at the chair Gabe had made. “What the hell’s up with that?”

  “What?”

  “You know what! And where did those damn flowers come from?”

  Flowers? Hannah leaned outside to see a small, potted hydrangea bush on the other side of her door. “I don’t know,” she said. But, although she hadn’t seen Gabe bring them, she knew they’d come from him. She’d seen a pot of flowers like them at his house, on the counter.

  “They have to be from Gabe, right? Why is he bringing you gifts?” Russ asked.

  “They’re not gifts. I mean, the chair’s not a gift. I—I don’t know about the flowers.”

  “They’re from him. I know they are.”

  “Russ, do me a favor and go home, okay?” she said.

  “We might be divorced, Hannah, but you’re still the mother of my children. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

  “No, you don’t. You have no right to come knocking on my door in the middle of the night.”

  He scowled and shifted on his feet. “Your lights were on already. Don’t pretend I’m making trouble.”

  “The lights were about to go off. I’m tired, and you are making trouble. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  He put a hand on the door to stop her from closing it. “You’re not seeing him, are you, Hannah? I mean, not Gabe. Anyone but Gabe, okay? Will you promise me that much?”

  Hannah knew Russ would have a problem with her seeing anyone. He was as possessive now as he’d been six years ago. “I won’t promise you anything.”

  “He might be rich and famous, but he’s crippled. You don’t want to take care of a cripple for the rest of your life, do you?”

  “Gabe doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. He can take care of himself,” she said.

  “So you are seeing him?”

  “No…I…leave me alone, Russ. Just go.”

  “You can’t walk out on me for a damn cripple, Hannah!”

  “I walked out on you for other reasons.” She tried to close the door, but he was pushing the opposite way, forcing his way in. “Russ, get out,” she said between gritted teeth. “Before you wake the boys.”

  “If you want to see someone, see me. I’m the one you should be with. I’ve changed. Give me another chance.”

  She pushed harder, but it didn’t help. He was too strong. “I don’t want to be with you, Russ. Ever. Do you understand?”

  “You’d rather be with Gabe?”

  She finally released the door, letting it swing wide. “What do you think?”

  He stopped trying to get in and blanched so white Hannah couldn’t help reaching out to comfort him. “Russ, I’m not trying to be unkind but you—”

  She didn’t get to finish because he belted her across the face. The blow came with such force that she staggered back several feet and almost lost her footing.

  Grabbing the door for support, she gaped up at him, tasting blood where her teeth had cut her lip, and he immediately crumpled.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. Oh God, I didn’t mean to do that. You…you make me crazy. Sometimes I…I think I’ll die if you don’t come back to me.” His hands clenched and unclenched. “This was your fault. Do you understand? I’ve never hit you before. I didn’t mean to do it now.”

  Hannah raised her fingers to her stinging cheek. “Go away.”

  “Please, Hannah. Don’t be angry. It…it was the back of my hand. I didn’t use my fist. I—I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  Whether he’d used the back of his hand or not, the blow had rattled her teeth. Tears filled her eyes, and her lip and cheek grew numb and swollen.

  “Don’t ever come here again, unless it’s to pick up or drop off the boys,” she said. “Or I swear I’ll get a restraining order.”