Silence descended on the game room as Dan’s family watched along with her, watched their Danny-boy cradle his injured arm and walk slowly from the field accompanied by two staff members.
Anger and fear warred inside Alexis. “This is the stupidest game ever invented, the dumbest way to earn a living. Why couldn’t he have chosen a normal, safe job? He might get killed out there! And then where would Michelle be?”
“It could have been worse,” said Rita, who didn’t appear too happy, either. “It could have been a concussion.”
“Look at the bright side,” contributed Joe. “New England has a bye week coming up. No game next Sunday, so Dan’ll have two weeks to recuperate.”
“And that’s supposed to make me happy?” snapped Alexis, jumping up from the sofa. “The same thing could happen again.”
Joe shrugged, put up his hands. “Okay. You’re right. I’m wrong. And stupid, too. Time for Joe to shut up.”
She grabbed the remote and turned off the television. “I’ve seen enough.”
“No, no, Ally. Put it back on. They’ll give us updates on Dan’s condition,” said Rita.
She clicked the remote again to hear speculation about a shoulder separation.
“Don’t expect him back tonight,” said Nick. “They might treat him in New York.”
“Just as well,” grumbled Alexis. “Because when he walks through that door, I’m going to kill him myself.”
But she didn’t. Not when she heard his key jingle at midnight and ran downstairs. Not when he walked through the door with his arm in a sling, his tired eyes devouring her like a heat-seeking missile.
“Sorry to wake you, but I needed to be home. I needed to see you.”
His words enveloped her with the warmth of a cozy blanket, and despite all her doubts, she quickly closed the distance between them. She stroked his cheek. “Welcome home, Danny-boy. But I think you should know that I hate football. I tried to like it, but I hate it. Just look at you. You’re really hurt.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to laugh—or kiss her. Resolutely, she stifled that thought.
“That’s my spice girl. Never afraid to speak her mind. Don’t be upset, Ally. I’ll be just fine. I’ve got a lot of help.”
He stepped to the side, and for the first time she saw he was not alone. “This is Bobby Siegel, a physical therapist with the team.”
The guy was smaller than Dan, but still, that was no excuse to overlook someone. She hadn’t noticed anybody but Dan in the entry hall. She shook the visitor’s hand just as there was a soft rapping at the door.
“That’s Louis,” said Dan. “He’ll take Bobby home after I’m iced down for the night. I didn’t want to bother you to do it.”
“And I’ll be back early tomorrow,” said the therapist, “to keep the ice going. The team doctor will be around to check Dan out again. And maybe Sean will show up, too.”
“Or maybe not,” said Dan. “He might be working hard with my backup.”
As Alexis crossed the foyer to let Louis inside, she glanced from one man to the other, and the entire scene hit her as surreal. She’d gone down the rabbit hole and become part of a fantasy world peopled by folks who would never normally have crossed her path. A topflight sports medicine team who knew their stuff. A talented professional coach who’d work with Dan step-by-step to get him back to full strength—so that he could return to the field and put himself in danger again.
“By the way,” she said, leading the men into the kitchen, where the therapist loaded the freezer with a variety of ice packs, “who won the game? I never got to that part.”
Identical grins spread across the faces of three grown men. “It was a good day,” Dan said.
Welcome to the NFL.
It wasn’t a happy thought.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BOSTON GLOBE—SPORTS
Monday, December 3
DELITO INJURED WITH SHOULDER SEPARATION
With a season record to date of 13–1, New England’s star QB is nursing a separated shoulder he received in yesterday’s game against the Jets. A shoulder separation is usually a soft tissue or ligament injury to the junction between the collarbone and the shoulder.
“All appropriate treatments are being used to ensure a complete recovery,” said Rick Thompson, head coach. “They include ice, immobilization and physical therapy, starting in a few days. The most important thing is to get Dan back to 100 percent. Luckily, he didn’t fracture a bone.”
When asked about Delito’s chances of playing in two weeks against the Titans, Thompson had no comment.
ALEXIS HAD PLENTY OF comments, especially after viewing the bruising of Dan’s shoulder, but she kept all her opinions to herself. The game was Dan’s business, after all, not hers. If he had tried to tell her how to prosecute a case, she would have told him where to get off. So she kept her mouth shut and tried to make sure he didn’t reinjure himself accidentally, especially around Michelle, who got excited whenever she saw her daddy.
The ongoing activity in the house provided a distraction for her. With therapists, doctors and coaches in and out, with Maria preparing lunches and wanting her input, and with Michelle to care for, there was no opportunity to think about the Dan who lived in her heart, which was probably for the best.
“Are you going to your meeting tonight?” she asked on Wednesday afternoon when they were both in the game room with the baby. His arm was in a sling, he was downing anti-inflammatory medication, and she couldn’t imagine him participating in anything with his customary get-up-and-go.
In his club chair, he shook his head. “I’m off the hook. Wouldn’t be able to concentrate much anyway.”
“The pain’s still bad, isn’t it?” she asked.
Trying to shrug, he winced instead. “It’s chronic. I’ll be getting another cortisone shot tomorrow. That should ease it.”
She bit her tongue to avoid talking about the chances of him playing on the sixteenth in Nashville. His fans were rooting for that to happen; he probably was, too. Not her. Enough was enough.
“I’ve missed you, Ally,” he said quietly.
She understood the meaning behind his words but didn’t want to follow up. “Missed me?” she protested. “I’ve been here 24/7 since you got home.”
“And so have a million other people.” He smiled. “One person seems like a million when all I’ve wanted is some time alone with you.”
A corner of her heart tore, and she could have wept. Dan was simply confused. It was Kim he wanted. He’d shaved his head for her, had gotten drunk on their anniversary. Instead of crying, however, she averted her glance and said, “Dan—please don’t go there. I’m a little off balance these days.”
He studied her with his usual intensity. “What’s going on? Oh, geez, Ally! It’s football, isn’t it? It’s got you mixed up. Well, I won’t be playing forever—I’m creeping up in years, and it’s a young man’s game.”
“Creeping up?” She laughed in relief at his absurd conclusion. The man had more energy than anyone she’d ever met. “You’re only thirty-one, so you’re in for a long haul.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s good to hear you laughing again. I love the sound.” Suddenly, he yawned, and his eyes closed. “The chair is more comfortable than my bed.”
“Then sleep here, if you can. I’ll put Michelle down, too, and take a picture of you both. ‘Father and Daughter—Naptime.’” She stood up and started toward the other side of the room, where Michelle was rolling around on her play mat.
“Very nice. But something’s missing.”
“What?”
“My good-night kiss.”
Ally stopped short and almost stopped breathing. Had Dan decided he wanted to forego their agreement?
Memories of his kisses flooded her. The warmth of his skin. The electricity that had arced between them. It was so tempting to just give in. To say yes.
But if they were going to step past their self-imposed
boundaries, they’d need to have a long, difficult talk first. About Kim. About the drinking. About the future. And Dan was in no condition for a serious talk that could distract him from his job.
“I’ll have to owe you one,” she said, retrieving the baby and taking her to the changing table. “Your daughter has priority.”
“Only for now,” he murmured.
Danny. Danny. Danny. Maybe he was genuinely trying to open himself up to a new life and a new love, but that new love couldn’t be her. She ached for them both. They’d grown so close, laughing together, loving Michelle, but in the end, their relationship wouldn’t work.
She wouldn’t settle for second-best—which is exactly where she measured up against Kim Delito.
She wanted to be first. And that was a first. Never before in her adult life had she yearned to be so close to someone, so in sync, that they could laugh at the same jokes, share the same wonders and desire a life together.
Her old ways weren’t working anymore, not with this man. And that was all the more reason to keep her distance.
DAN WISHED HE COULD be cloned. His career needed his full attention. He’d be flying to Nashville with the team, not to play, but to provide support for his reserves. His backup would be the lead QB that weekend. Dan knew the player wanted to win for the team’s sake, but more because he didn’t want to let Dan down. The two weren’t close friends, but Dan knew the younger man considered him a role model. It was hard to be someone’s idol.
Ally also needed his full attention. She seemed to be walking on eggshells around him lately, always making general conversation, careful to avoid anything personal. He knew he was losing her. But why?
She was weirdly obsessed with keeping to their original agreement, a deal he’d half forgotten about until she reminded him of it the other day. He’d respect her wishes, of course, but he didn’t know why she was insisting on sticking to a pact they’d made before they really knew each other. Before they’d kissed. Before they’d shared a home.
Was their life together really nothing more than business to her?
The idea gnawed at him like a persistent mosquito. He could swear she cared for him as more than her employer and Michelle’s daddy. There were times he’d glimpsed the light of something more than friendship in her eyes. But perhaps he was imagining it, because he wanted to see it so badly.
When she’d first appeared at his door, he’d assumed she was interested in him only for his money. In fact, he’d accused her of that very thing—and she’d looked a bit shamefaced, he had to admit.
Was he really nothing more than a checkbook to her? The idea appalled him, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation for her coolness. He hadn’t touched a drop of booze since the day they’d met. They’d rarely so much as raised their voices to each other.
But he knew Ally—at least, he thought he did—and he was convinced she wasn’t as mercenary as he suspected. Whatever the reason for her detachment, it was making him miserable. He preferred the original Ally—the Ally who spoke her mind.
After he returned from Nashville, he’d instigate a conversation with Ally. He’d be able to continue his full-time recuperation at the stadium facilities, so the house would no longer be full of team staff. They’d be able to be themselves again.
On Friday, he hugged her at the door when Louis picked him up, and hope flowered when he felt her response and heard her parting words.
“No matter what happens in that game, Daniel, don’t you dare—dare—dare put on a uniform.” Stab, stab, stab. She still worried about him. A good sign.
“I’m on the disabled list, so I can’t play. If we lose, we’d still lead the division anyway at 13–2. Of course, we’d need to win the final two games to have home field advantage for the play-offs. I’ll be ready by then.”
“Hmm…does this mean we’re able to use the S word now?”
Her eyes twinkled, and she bit her lip trying to repress a smile, but the corners of her mouth lifted anyway.
“I suppose so,” he replied, not hiding his grin at all. “But we’d still have to win the play-offs. I guess I can’t fight it anymore. In the middle of December, the big game’s on everyone’s mind—that is, everyone who cares about this contest.”
She made a disgruntled face and he hugged her again, kissed the baby and left the house without another word. Better to part on a happy note.
THEY LOST THE NASHVILLE game by one touchdown. On the plane, the medical staff and coaches worked out a dual therapy and practice schedule for Dan for the following week. In the car on the way home from the airport Sunday night, he fell asleep, and Louis had to wake him.
“You shoulda stayed home, Mr. Delito. Better off resting.”
“You’re probably right. Too bad the coach didn’t ask your advice. Thanks for a smooth ride, Lou—not easy, with all the potholes. See you in the morning.”
Dan walked to the front door, put his key in the lock and turned around. Louis was waiting for him to get inside, as though Dan were an invalid or a child. Or the starting quarterback for the New England Patriots. “I’m fine. Go home.”
The other man waved and took off.
Dan stepped indoors and inhaled the lingering aroma of something baking, something sweet and delicious. He took another deep breath and tried to identify it. Chocolate-chip cookies? Alexis? That would be a sight. She’d never claimed to be a cook, and he’d never seen her elbow deep in meal prep in all the weeks she’d lived with him. Maybe Maria had come by earlier, or his mom.
Suddenly, his stomach growled, his fatigue lifted and he whistled his way down the hall. He’d soon sample whatever it was that smelled so good.
He stopped short in the kitchen doorway and stared at Christmas.
Garlands draped the walls and looped from the light fixtures. A tabletop tree sat on the counter, a bright Santa on the high chair’s tray.
He hadn’t bothered with the holiday in years. He stood frozen in place, sucker punched.
Ally was covered with flour. It was even in her hair, which was gathered at the back of her neck. An apron hadn’t helped at all. She stood at the counter, humming as she checked the pages of an open book. Then she peeped into the oven.
“Potholders,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Use potholders.”
She whirled, hand on her heart. “Oh, my God, Danny. You scared me. I never heard a sound.” Turning away, she grabbed the mitts, removed the cookie sheet and placed it on top of the stove.
He scanned the room again, trying to adjust to the upheaval. “What are you doing besides making a mess?”
Her forehead crinkled. “What does it look like? I’m getting us ready for Christmas. It’s Michelle’s first one.”
“So what?” he asked. “She’ll never remember it.” He shrugged, glad to note the absence of pain in his shoulder. But his heart twisted when he saw the hurt on her face. She pressed her lips together, came closer and clasped his arms. Then she looked straight up at him. Gazing into those soft green eyes, he felt himself begin to drown.
“I know Michelle won’t remember,” she whispered, “but the point is that you’ll remember. I’ll remember, too. You’ll take pictures and share them with her later on. You’ll build memories. Create photo albums. Like in a real family.” She waved toward the fridge. “See, you’ve already got pictures of her here and all over the house, like…like a real family is supposed to have of their children.”
She averted her gaze. A suspicion began to grow in Dan’s mind.
“Would this happen to be your first Christmas celebration, too?” he whispered.
A rosy blush blossomed from her neck to her face. “Let’s just say it will be my happiest one.”
Placing his finger under her chin, he said, “Look at me again.”
She slowly raised her eyes, and he was stunned at her shyness. So unusual for Alexis Brown.
“Then we’ll do it. We’ll have the biggest, merriest Christmas right here.” Not for the baby’s sake, but fo
r Ally’s.
Ally, the woman he loved. Even if she didn’t love him—yet.
The warmth of her smile made his blood sizzle. Jumping her bones seemed like a great idea, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not at the moment, anyway. Instead, he tried to keep the conversational ball rolling.
“Fair warning, Ally. I’m way out of practice with all this stuff.” He gestured at the decorations.
Her bright expression turned to one of concern, and she patted his arm. “I think I understand. For a man who doesn’t have a picture of his wife on display anywhere except in his own bedroom, I can imagine you certainly didn’t have the heart for Christmas in recent years.”
He paused, confused. Where was she going with this? “What brought that up?”
“I wasn’t prying, Dan. I saw the portrait when I searched for your wallet,” Ally said.
Was the discovery of that picture related to Ally’s coolness last week? If so, how?
“When I saw it,” Ally continued, “I nearly passed out, and I certainly understood your family’s reaction to meeting me. Then I wondered why I hadn’t seen any shots of her before. I wondered if I’d been unconsciously oblivious, so I searched the other rooms and…”
“And you found none because there aren’t any on display.” He pulled out a chair for Ally and sat down facing her. He took her hand. “Hiding family pictures wasn’t my call. It was Kim’s. As the cancer ripped through her, she couldn’t bear seeing herself from the good days, so—”
“So you put them all away.”
“Yeah, I did.”
She squeezed his hand.
“You were a wonderful husband,” she said.
“Not as wonderful as you are for putting up with everything.” He came with a lot of baggage that was still weighing him down. Right now, for example, with their talk about Kim’s illness, Ally had unknowingly ignited his trigger. He felt the urge, the beads of sweat beginning to break out on his skin.
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