Hannah followed her to the door, feeling bad about the tension between them. “Patti…”

  Patti glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  Hannah knew she was talking about the loss of the relationship they once knew, and nodded. They both felt the same way. They just didn’t know how to reclaim the closeness they’d shared.

  “I’ll pick up pip-squeak this afternoon and take him swimming. Have fun cooking dinner for Mr. Unreachable.”

  “Mr. Unreachable?” Hannah said. “Why do you call him that?”

  Patti tossed her purse inside the car and turned back. “Because even when he could walk, he’d never emotionally engage. There was no penetrating that sexy smile, no getting under his skin and really making his heart pound, you know?”

  “He’s been with some very beautiful women,” Hannah said. “I’m sure they made his heart pound.”

  Patti arched her eyebrows. “Maybe his heart was pounding when he was—” she glanced meaningfully at Brent “—physically engaged. But certainly not before or afterward.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She singled out her ignition key. “Yes, I do. Just ask Deborah Wheeler.”

  “You’re friends with Deborah Wheeler?”

  “We talk now and then, since she moved in down the street from me.”

  That explained some of Patti’s prejudice, considering Deborah’s connection to Coach Blaine. “And she’s an expert on Gabe?”

  “She told me when he was playing ball he never brought the same woman home twice.”

  “He was living in California, so how would she know?”

  “He never brought the same woman to town twice. She said that even when he used to show up with one of the tall, leggy blondes he seemed to prefer, he was always amiable, always entertaining, but you could tell that if the woman waved goodbye and walked out the door he wouldn’t think twice about her.”

  “That’s a lot for Deborah to assume, Patti. I don’t think she saw him that often.”

  “Has he ever had a steady girlfriend?”

  “Maybe. It’s tough to say. Like I said, for a long time, he didn’t even live here.”

  “If he’d been with someone, word would have gotten around. He couldn’t buy a new car without everyone talking about it.”

  Crossing her arms, Hannah leaned against the lintel. “A lot of professional athletes play fast and loose with women. Maybe it’s not right, but it’s partly a factor of how aggressively they’re pursued. And Gabe had legions after him.”

  “What about now?”

  “Dating is probably the last thing on his mind. He’s still dealing with what’s happened to him.”

  “It’s been three years, Hannah. It’s like Deborah said to me the other day. He’s already passed the crossroads.”

  “What crossroads?”

  “If he was going to adjust and move on, he would have done it by now.”

  Those words terrified Hannah, probably because, on some level, she feared they were true. Gabe was letting his handicap limit more than his body. He was letting it take control of his life. “It takes time to recover,” she said, but not very convincingly.

  “Where women are concerned, he hasn’t changed.” With a parting wave, Patti got in the car.

  Hannah watched her drive off, picturing the tortured look in Gabe’s eyes when she’d touched his face. He’d tried to remain true to his unaffected public persona, but he’d slipped for a moment, and she’d caught a glimpse of the real man.

  Patti might be right about some things, but she was wrong about Gabe being unreachable. The heart that beat beneath his muscled chest wasn’t too hard. If Hannah had her guess, it was too soft.

  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have to protect it so well.

  * * *

  KENNY BLINKED FAST and wiped the sweat from his brow. They’d been practicing for two hours already. The past fifteen minutes had been spent running a new play Coach Holbrook had designed. Two receivers crossed in the middle, then headed down opposite sides of the field. Kenny was supposed to roll out to his left and throw a long diagonal bomb, which would hopefully turn into a touchdown pass. But he couldn’t get it right. He was too upset by the conspiratorial look Coach Blaine had given him a few minutes earlier.

  While waiting for the front line to return to their formation, Kenny tried to stretch the tension out of the muscles in his neck. What was he going to do? He didn’t want to be a traitor to his own team. But he didn’t want to ruin his chances to play college or professional ball, either. Everyone was saying Coach Holbrook had only stepped in for one year. If Holbrook wasn’t making any type of long-term commitment to the team, how could Kenny risk his future by remaining loyal to him? Even if they had a winning season, chances were good Blaine would take over next year. And he was one coach who wouldn’t forgive or forget if Kenny didn’t do exactly as he said.

  Gabe’s whistle sounded. “Again!”

  They ran the play, but Kenny’s pass wobbled weakly and fell short for the third time in a row. Finally, Holbrook pulled him out and replaced him with senior Jonathon Greer.

  Jonathon gave Kenny a triumphant smile before slipping on his helmet and running onto the field, but Kenny pretended not to notice. His stomach hurt. He wanted to go home.

  “Thirty-four, twenty-eight, sixteen, hut, hut.” Jonathon’s voice carried easily through air that smelled sharply of dust and sweat. Dropping back in the pocket, he cocked his arm to throw but hesitated, waiting…waiting…

  The crack of shoulder pads and the thud of bodies rang in Kenny’s ears as the defense tried to reach the quarterback. Then Jonathon loosed a perfect spiral, which sailed through the air and landed easily in receiver Brandon Joseph’s arms.

  Kenny could have done that. He could have done it easily if he wasn’t so damned upset….

  “That’s what I want to see,” Gabe said. “Let’s do it again.”

  They ran the play four more times. Jonathon missed only once.

  A cold shower and some dry clothes were growing more appealing to Kenny by the minute. Yanking off his helmet, he tucked it under his arm, feeling humiliated and eager to be alone. If he didn’t improve his play, he wouldn’t have to worry about double-crossing the team. He’d be sitting on the bench with the other two sophomores.

  “Hey, what’s wrong with you, man?” Sly, the kicker who was also Blaine’s cousin, sidled up to him.

  “Nothing.” Kenny cast Sly a sideways glance and scowled. “What’s wrong with you?” he said darkly.

  Sly lifted his hands. “I’m chillin’, dude. You’re the one who’s chokin’ out there.”

  Kenny said nothing. He had no desire to talk to Sly. They’d never been friends before, and Kenny didn’t want what his father had arranged at the diner to change that.

  “The point is to win a starting position before you play like shit,” Sly whispered, then chuckled and spat at the ground.

  Kenny glanced furtively at the other boys, all crowded so close. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Sobering, Sly straightened and eyed him doubtfully. “My uncle said you were in.”

  Kenny refused to look at him.

  “You’re in, right?” he pressed. But Gabe had just called an end to practice and, pivoting abruptly, Kenny stalked off.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE RICE WAS TOO STICKY. Hannah glanced nervously at the clock and wondered if she’d have fifteen minutes to make more. She’d never had her rice cooker fail her before. The rice was supposed to be the easiest part….

  At least the chicken tasted good. And the steamed vegetables and coffee cake. She’d decided long ago that a woman couldn’t go wrong with coffee cake. She’d never met a man who didn’t like her mother’s special recipe, especially when she went heavy on the chocolate chip and brown sugar crumble topping.

  She was just adding extra to Gabe’s half of the cake when she heard a car pull into the drive and knew she was out of time. That would be him, bringing Kenny home and expecting his dinner.

  Tossing her mushy rice a final grimace, she hurried to the front window. Sure enough, Kenny was climbing out of Gabe’s truck. She’d been hoping practice would go well so that public interest in Gabe’s taking the job would soon wane, but judging by the frown on Kenny’s face, that wasn’t the case. Slinging his bag over one shoulder, her son kept his head down as he made his way toward the house.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as he came in.

  “Nothing.” His glower indicated otherwise, but she didn’t have time to question him. Gabe was waiting.

  “You got Coach Holbrook’s dinner ready?” he asked.

  “I just need to pack it up.” Hurrying into the kitchen, she settled everything into a grocery sack. Kenny had followed her and stood ready to take the food, but she skirted past him. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good,” he grumbled and shuffled down the hall toward his room.

  His door slammed as she stepped outside. The sudden bang took Hannah by surprise. Her step faltered, but she could feel Gabe’s eyes on her so she continued around his truck. She was wearing a short denim skirt with a Bebe tank top and flip-flops—something casual and comfortable in the warm weather because she wasn’t meeting with any clients until later. But she suddenly wished she’d put on something a little more attractive. Considering the sophisticated, model-perfect women he used to date, she probably looked like a country bumpkin.

  He rolled down the window when she reached his side of the truck, and Lazarus leaned his head over the side of the bed, obviously interested in the food he smelled coming from her bag.

  “Tonight’s menu is lemon chicken and rice,” she announced, handing the meal up to him. “But I’m afraid the rice didn’t turn out too good.”

  “It’ll be fine. Thanks.” He set the sack on the seat next to him.

  She gave Lazarus a scratch, then raised a hand to shade her face. Gabe’s shirt was damp. It was easy to tell he’d been outdoors. But he didn’t smell bad. The heat seemed to enhance the soaplike scent of his warm skin. Even the inside of his truck smelled clean and nice—like the pine trees surrounding his cabin. “How’d practice go today?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  She admired his strong jaw and straight nose, the long, black eyelashes that framed his light eyes. He’d been nominated as one of People’s most beautiful men a few years ago—and she could see why. For a moment, she felt dazzled to have his full attention.

  But concern for Kenny quickly overtook her appreciation of Gabe’s good looks. “Kenny’s upset?”

  “He had a bad day.”

  “In what way?”

  “His aim was a little off.”

  “I’ll talk to him about his attitude.”

  Gabe shrugged. “Don’t be too hard on him. It’s tough for a team to lose its coach. I’m sure he and the other boys will be fine once they’ve had a chance to adjust.”

  She glanced back at the house. “If you say so.”

  He rested his arm over the steering wheel. “I meant to bring your chair today, but I got started late. I’ll drop it by tomorrow.”

  “Or the next day,” she said. “There’s no hurry.”

  “Okay. Thanks for dinner.” He flashed her a smile, and she found herself imagining him as he used to be—possessing all the confidence and swagger of youth and more talent and success than he knew what to do with. What had happened to him was a tragedy, but it was an even greater tragedy that he now held himself so aloof from others.

  Hannah stepped back so he could leave, thinking of Patti’s words. If he was going to adjust and move on, he would have done it by now…. Could that be true? She hoped not. Mike Hill had managed to get Gabe involved with the Spartans, hadn’t he? Maybe she could do something to help him, too. She owed it to Gabe, after all.

  “Gabe?”

  He was backing toward the street, but he stopped at the end of the drive and poked his head out his open window. “Yeah?”

  “Um, I just realized I need to take your picture for the school yearbook.” She’d been planning to go to the field tomorrow, but now she was hoping to use the assignment to better advantage.

  “When we were in school, the students always handled the yearbook,” he said.

  “I take the team photos,” she explained. “Anyway, I’m busy in the morning, so I was hoping I could cook in the afternoon and bring dinner out to your place afterwards. I’ll take your picture while I’m there.”

  “Don’t you want a team photo?”

  “Actually, I took one before Coach Hill died. As a tribute, I think they’re going to leave that as is. But they want to include a picture of you, along with an introductory paragraph or two about your accomplishments.”

  “So you’re finished with everyone else?”

  “You’re the last one.” Her heart beat at least twenty times before he said anything else.

  “You don’t want to drive all the way out to the cabin if we can do it at—”

  “Actually, I’d enjoy the scenery,” she said, cutting him off.

  “Can’t you use an old picture? I haven’t gotten around to getting my hair cut in a while.”

  “If you have one you’d rather use, you can give it to me when I come. But I’d like to get the football pictures turned in this week, if that’s okay. The guy making the program needs them.”

  He hesitated for another few seconds. She could tell he was reluctant to let her return to his cabin and wasn’t happy about the idea of having his picture taken. But she was betting he’d be too polite to refuse, and she was right.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “But if the drive becomes a problem for you, let me know. I can take a rain check on dinner and see if I can dig up a picture to send home with Kenny tomorrow after practice.”

  “The drive won’t bother me. I’ll bring my camera, just in case.”

  Hannah waved as he drove off, then headed toward the house. She wanted to contemplate how she could build on what Mike Hill had accomplished with Gabe. But she needed to deal with Kenny first.

  Hoping for a good heart-to-heart, she hurried across the threshold—and nearly ran into him.

  “I’m taking off for a little while, Mom,” he said, circumventing her.

  “Where are you going?”

  He jogged down the front steps. “I don’t know. Maybe to the swimming hole with Tuck.”

  “You’re not wearing a swimsuit.”

  “I’m not going swimming.”

  Worry gnawed at Hannah’s stomach. Kenny’s whole demeanor had changed over the weekend. “Kenny—”

  “Cut me some slack, okay, Mom? I just need to be alone for a while,” he said and stalked off down the street.

  “Kenny!” she called after him.

  He turned.

  “It’s only a game, okay?”

  He shook his head as if she’d never understand. “Yeah, right. Tell Dad that,” he said and was gone.

  * * *

  KENNY’S BEST FRIEND Tuck sat slouching against a stump, dangling the keys to his mother’s old Mustang, while Kenny skipped rock after rock across the small pond everyone called The Old Swimming Hole. Technically, the property was part of the Running Y Resort owned by Conner Armstrong, but all the high school kids came out here to swim. No one bothered to stop them—unless they were drinking. The police had broken up more than a few weekend parties at the hole. There was always the fear someone might fall in and drown.

  “So what are you going to do?” Tuck asked.

  Kenny shrugged. He didn’t have any answers. He simply wanted to play football, but it wasn’t that easy anymore.

  “Maybe you should quit the team,” Tuck said. “Go out again next year, when the whole coaching thing has been resolved.”

  Resolved. Tuck had to be the only teenager who talked like that. But then, Tuck was different. His IQ fell somewhere in the range of genius; the teachers at school called him gifted. “I’ve thought about it.”

  “And?”

  “If I quit this year, they’ll never let me start next year.”

  Tuck brushed his flyaway brown hair back from his Harry Potter-like face. “So start your senior year.”

  “My junior year is most important. That’s when all the colleges look at you.”

  “What about choosing a different sport? You could always be a track star like me.”

  A smile tugged at Kenny’s lips despite his current dilemma. Tuck had narrow shoulders and little muscle. He wasn’t much of an athlete. The track team only took him because he had a lot of heart and would never quit in the middle of a race, no matter how far behind he fell—and the faster, stronger boys played baseball during track season. “I’ll be busy with baseball, remember?”

  “So stick with baseball. You’re a great catcher.”

  “Not great enough to get a scholarship. And if I don’t get a scholarship, I’ll never be able to go to Stanford with you. We have plans, remember? Who’s going to room with you if I’m not there?”

  “Maybe I won’t end up getting in, either,” Tuck said.

  Tuck never took anything for granted. But Kenny knew Stanford would be lucky to get his friend. Tuck was going places. He could be the next Albert Einstein. “Tuck, your test scores are so high, they’re sending you Stanford key chains and shit.”

  Tuck removed his glasses and cleaned them on his plain white T-shirt. It had taken some doing, but Kenny had finally convinced his buddy to stick with T-shirts and jeans and to forget the old man clothes his mother bought for him.

  “Okay. Why not make your mark in something unrelated to sports?” Tuck asked.

  This was certainly a new idea. “Like?”

  Tuck blinked at him. “You could join the debate team.”

  “Except that I can’t debate.”

  “I could teach you.” Tuck settled his glasses back over the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be captain of the team this year.”

  Kenny knew Tuck would put him on the team, and then try to cover for him when he couldn’t argue anything. He wasn’t interested in the political issues that excited Tuck, but he appreciated his friend’s loyalty. He’d thought about trying to get Tuck on the football team somehow, just so he’d have better luck with the girls. But Tuck didn’t understand the thrill of knocking other guys down. The whole track thing was, according to him, “simply an attempt to be well-rounded.”