On the Fly

by Catherine Gayle

  I downed the last of my beer and got up to get another from the fridge. “Anyone need anything while I’m up?”

  “Toss me the bag of spinach from the bottom drawer,” Zee said.

  When I turned around, I did just that—I tossed it straight at his head. He didn’t miss a beat, just reached up and snagged it before it could hit him.

  He looked at the bottle in my hand and raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got a game tomorrow.” That was all he said, but I knew what he was really saying. Don’t overdo it. You’re still trying to earn your spot.

  This was my third beer of the night. I’d definitely have to stop after this one. The last thing I needed to do was get drunk and have to deal with a hangover tomorrow. I nodded my acknowledgment.

  Webs had been looking over his shoulder at the kids, but he turned around and smirked at Zee. “Get me another beer, too,” he said to me after a minute.

  I slid the bottle along the counter toward him. After all the broken glass and bloody feet yesterday morning, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of cleaning up the mess if Webs failed to catch my throw.

  He snagged it and inclined his head in thanks. “Does Katie look…I don’t know…tired to you boys? She seems tired.”

  Dana looked up and stared out into the living room. “She’s got first semester finals coming up, right? And that Glee Club competition. I’m sure that’s all it is. Nothing to worry about.”

  Webs grunted before downing about half his beer. He didn’t look convinced.

  The doorbell rang. It had to be Cam Johnson, another of the guys from the team who Dana was comfortable with. He was the only other person she’d said she’d invited tonight. She set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron, but she had plenty more to do in here. Zee had his hands full flipping burgers on the grill pan now that he’d divested himself of the spinach.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, setting my beer on the island and heading toward the front door.

  Dana grinned at me, stretching up on her toes to kiss my cheek as I walked by.

  I was right. It was Jonny. He just nodded at me when he came in. He’d never been a very talkative guy in the time I’d known him. Mom would say he was the strong, silent type. Maybe there was something to that because any of the guys like him that I’d known throughout my career—guys who had reputations as fighters—would easily fit that description.

  He slipped past me and headed for the kitchen, stealing my barstool. That was as good an excuse as any for me to go sit with Rachel, try to get her to let the kids be kids for a while and loosen up.

  I didn’t just sit beside her, though. I picked her up and sat in her recliner, pulling her down onto my lap the same way I’d held her yesterday on my sofa.

  The blush I was coming to love raced to her cheeks. “Here?” she said beneath her breath, frowning at me.

  I smothered a laugh. “Jonny took my seat,” I said since she seemed to want an explanation.

  “There are plenty of other places you could sit.”

  I quirked up a grin. “But none of them had you in them.”

  Rachel set her lips into a thin line. “I meant what I said, you know. That I don’t date. You’re not going to change my mind.”

  “Okay.” I couldn’t help but notice that I had drawn her attention away from her kids, at least for now. She looked right at me, utter disgruntlement furrowing her brows. That, at least, was progress. “You still haven’t told me why.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “What if I want it to be my business?”

  “Do you?” Her voice was so quiet I almost couldn’t hear her over the kids’ laughter and the conversations around us.

  I took a minute to answer her. Something in me warned that this was not the time to tell her anything other than the absolute truth, even if it wasn’t a truth I was fully prepared to handle. “Yes,” I finally said.

  She stared into my eyes, studying them, searching them for God only knew what. “Why?”

  Hell if I knew. I still hadn’t figured that out for myself. “Because you fascinate me,” I said, even though I knew that was barely skimming the surface.

  “That’s not enough.”

  I should have known she wouldn’t go for an answer like that.

  “You’re right,” I said. “It’s not.” I dragged a hand through my hair, keeping the other in place at her hip. Touching her helped me feel grounded, however crazy the thought of that might be. “I just—I feel like you’re always so worried about your kids that you forget to worry about yourself, and so maybe I want to be the one to do that. To worry about you. To take care of you.”

  She turned to stone on my lap. “I’ve been taking care of myself and my kids for a long time. I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

  I didn’t agree, but now didn’t seem like the best time to argue my point—especially since she had started letting me chip away at her wall of defenses, a bit at a time. “Whether you can take care of yourself or not, I still want to take care of you. I don’t fully understand it. Hell, I don’t even halfway understand it. But I want to take care of you, and I want you to let me.”

  “I don’t know how to let someone take care of me,” she whispered. “It’s been too long.”

  “Burgers are ready,” Zee said loudly enough to break through the ruckus. I’d almost been able to convince myself that we were alone, just me and Rachel, until then. He moved into my line of vision, carrying a tray piled high with meat to the dining room table. “Let’s eat.”

  Reluctantly, I got up and carried Rachel to the table, setting her in a chair next to me.

  Dana sat across from me and caught my eye. When Rachel turned to help Tuck fix a plate, Dana arched a brow in question, moving her eyes from me to Rachel and back again.

  All I could do was shrug. I didn’t have the first clue what was going on between us. I only knew I wanted it to continue, to get to know her better. I wanted more.

  At our dinner table at home the next evening, Tuck shoveled a bite of chicken into his mouth. He didn’t bother to chew or swallow before he asked, “Mommy, can we watch Mr. Jamie’s hockey game tonight?”

  I’d made it through my second day of work without running into Brenden or any of the other guys who’d been at dinner last night, but that hadn’t taken away the edginess I felt. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all day.

  More specifically, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he kept pulling me onto his lap at inappropriate times, how he’d kissed me, and how much I had enjoyed all of it and wanted more despite myself.

  The last thing in the world I wanted to do tonight was watch a game he was playing in. It would only make me think about him more than I already was. I’d been looking forward to a night where I knew he wasn’t across the hall so he couldn’t just show up unannounced and carry me around.

  “You both have homework to do,” I said in response.

  “Not that much,” Maddie said. She set her fork down beside her plate and stared at me, her green eyes focused and intense. “We already did most of it.”

  They were ganging up on me. That was the problem with having more than one kid. They tended to act as a team to get their way. It usually worked, too, darn them. At least with me. Maybe some other parents were able to hold their ground a little better than I could.

  I narrowed my eyes and raised a brow. “You have to finish all your homework and take your baths first. Both of you.” There were few things Tuck would waste more time doing than taking a bath on a normal night, because it was usually the last thing he did before going to bed. He could be a champion lollygagger in the bathtub if it meant staying up an extra ten minutes…and more often than not, it resulted in a big mess of water splashed all over the floor for me to clean up once I’d gotten them into bed.

  “Really?” he said, a wide grin taking over his whole face. “We get to watch the game?”

  “Until bedtime. But I want no complaints when eight
o’clock rolls around, even if the game isn’t over yet.” I’d never watched a hockey game before in my life. I didn’t have the first clue how long they lasted but it didn’t even start until seven.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both said in unison.

  It got really quiet at the table, both kids eating their dinner with a gusto they rarely displayed when ice cream wasn’t involved. When we’d finished eating, I cleared away the dishes, put the leftovers in the fridge, and cleaned the kitchen. While I did that, they took out their backpacks and dove into their homework.

  I was amazed that by seven o’clock on the dot both kids had finished all of their schoolwork and taken their baths. I couldn’t think of a time anything like that had happened before. Apparently, the chance to watch Mr. Jamie’s hockey game was a far better incentive than anything I’d offered them in the past. I made a mental note of that tidbit.

  When I flipped the TV to the right channel, a woman was in the midst of singing “Oh, Canada.” She followed that up with “The Star Spangled Banner” before the announcers broke in to discuss the two teams playing tonight, the Storm and the Vancouver Canucks. Tuck settled himself beside me on the sofa, pulling a blanket up over his legs, and Maddie took the chair off to the side.

  After a commercial break, the game was back and an official dropped the puck in the middle of the ice. A flurry of action took over the TV screen and I literally had no idea what was going on. The guys were skating back and forth across the rink, and the puck moved faster than I could keep up with.

  After a while, the Storm were leading two to one when they took a break. The players headed down a tunnel and out of sight, and two big trucks came out onto the ice, driving in slow circles over the surface. I figured it was halftime, but the commentators called it intermission. The term intermission made me think of musical theater, though, so that just seemed odd for a sporting event.

  I glanced up at the clock. It was 7:53. “I think we’re going to have to turn it off now, guys,” I said, ignoring their whines. “It’s almost bedtime.”

  “Not until exactly bedtime, Mommy,” Tuck argued. He always did that. He’d push and push, right up to the very edge of what was allowable, just to see if he could get me to bend or break. He looked up at the same clock. “We go to bed at eight-zero-zero.”

  I didn’t bother trying to stifle my smile. “Since you’ve already had your baths, we can leave it on for a few more minutes. But the game won’t start again until after you’re in bed. It’s just halftime.”

  “You have to watch the rest, then,” Maddie said, yawning. “So you can tell us if Mr. Jamie wins in the morning.”

  I wasn’t so sure I wanted to sit up and watch the rest of the game once they’d gone to bed. I could get up early and find the score on the news or online before I woke them, though. They’d never know the difference. “All right. I’ll let you know.”

  When the commercial break ended, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Brenden was staring back at me on the screen, red-faced and covered in sweat.

  “Mr. Soupy!” Tuck squealed.

  Brenden had taken his jersey and helmet off. A deeper red line was visible across his forehead where the helmet had been, and he had a towel draped across his shoulders, somewhat covering his black T-shirt. He reached for a bottle of water and took a swig as the announcer thanked him for agreeing to do the intermission interview.

  “Glad to do it,” he said. “Thanks for asking me.”

  “You seem to really be flying tonight,” the announcer said. “Welcome back. It’s like you never missed a step with your injury, the way you and the captain always seem to find each other out there.”

  Brenden wiped his face with the towel, but it didn’t look like it helped much. He was sweating too profusely. “That’s what happens when you play with a world-class centerman like Zee. He can always find you on the ice; you just have to find a way to get open.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you two played together for years.” The announcer’s laugh was one of the most obnoxious laughs I’d ever heard.

  “No, definitely not. It’s always fun to play with Zee. He makes the game easy.”

  “Nice work getting the lead late in the period. Tell us about that goal.”

  “Babs did a great job digging the puck out of the corner.” Brenden drank more of his water, wiped his forehead again. “He caught Zee heading out of the zone, and I just did my best to keep up with him so we could maintain a two-on-one advantage. I figured he’d shoot, but I kept my stick down on the ice just in case.”

  “It’s a good thing you did.” Again with the laugh. If I watched hockey again after tonight, I definitely didn’t want to have this guy’s voice running over it the whole time.

  “Yeah, he just kind of saucered it over Bieksa’s stick and it landed right on my tape. Easy tap in to get it past Luongo, but all the credit has to go to Babs and Zee. They did the hard work. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

  The clock showed eight o’clock, and the announcer thanked Brenden for his time again, and I got up to usher my kids to their rooms.

  “Please can we watch just a little more, Mommy?” Tuck whined, but he was yawning just like Maddie had been, and there wasn’t a whole lot of conviction in his request. “So we can see if they talk to Mr. Jamie next? Or Mr. Zee?”

  “Not tonight.” Besides, I didn’t have an idea what any of it meant, that whole interview. For that matter, I didn’t have a clue what was happening the entire game. I’d even missed the fact that it was Brenden who’d scored the last goal. Clearly, hockey was not an easy sport to follow without someone around to explain even the simplest things. Like icing. What the heck was that supposed to mean? The game was all played on ice.

  It was exciting to watch because it was almost constant action…but it was confusing the heck out of me.

  “Okay.” Tuck sighed melodramatically.

  I shooed the kids down the hall and went to the bathroom. When I finished, I stopped in each of their rooms and tucked them in, telling them each a quick bedtime story and kissing them goodnight.

  I made my way back into the living room to turn off the TV, but my hand froze on the remote before I could hit the “power” button. There was a fight—like a gloves-off-and-fists-raised fight—taking place on the ice, one guy from each team. Everyone else was just standing around watching, even the officials, and the fans were on their feet, roaring like it was something to be proud of. No one was trying to stop them. I’d never seen anything so barbaric in a game—nothing outside of boxing and wrestling, but you expect it in those sports.

  What really worked its way into my consciousness through it all, though, was that obnoxious announcer’s voice. “Campbell lands a right, and another! Oh my, did you see that? It’s one haymaker after another, both pugilists trading blows, and Campbell surprises him with a left. Oh, what a blow! And Kesler is down on the ice. Campbell took him down in a glorious tilt.”

  Campbell. I was pretty sure Brenden was the only Campbell in the game.

  Sure enough, once the officials finally stepped in and broke the two apart after they’d fallen to the ice, the camera zoomed in for a close-up on Brenden’s face. He skated over to a glass box, separate from the rest of his team, wild eyed and still yapping at the player he’d just been fighting with.

  The TV broadcast immediately replayed the entire fight, and I found that I couldn’t turn it off despite the fact that it sickened me just a little bit that it had happened at all. No, it sickened me a lot. What sort of player would fight an opponent in the middle of a game? Why was it allowed to happen?

  More than anything, as I sat there watching the rest of the game, I tried to reconcile the man who had done that with the man who had tended to my feet and carried me around for the past couple of days. How could he be the same person?

  This dual nature he seemed to have made me more certain than I was before that I couldn’t trust him, couldn’t let him get too close. I didn’t think I
’d ever be able to know which side of him to expect.

  I watched the entire game even though I hadn’t intended to, and I watched the post-game show as well. After that ended, I turned down the volume on the TV but couldn’t make myself go to bed. I sat there on the sofa, listening for sounds in the hallway that would indicate Brenden and Jamie were home.

  I had to wait a long time. When I finally heard the deep rumble of their voices in the hallway, it was almost midnight. For reasons I couldn’t explain even to myself, I got up, went to the door, and opened it.

  Brenden turned around and looked at me. He and Jamie were both wearing suits, their ties a little loose around their collars. Brenden’s cheek was red and puffy. It probably ought to be worse than that, after what he’d done tonight.

  He stared at me. I did nothing but return his gaze for so long I felt like an idiot. Why had I even opened the door? I didn’t want him to get any closer to me. Not after what I’d seen tonight. I wanted him to keep his distance so I could keep mine.

  I started to close the door, but his voice stopped me.

  “Rachel?” Just my name.

  My gut twisted into the craziest knot of my life. I ought to close the door and lock it.

  I didn’t.

  Rachel looked scared.

  No, not just scared. She looked like she was scared of me. There was something inherently disconcerting in the way she was staring at me, unblinking, bug-eyed, and slack-jawed.

  Why was she afraid of me all of a sudden? And if I was right, if she did fear me, why was she waiting up for me to come home? She could have stayed in her place, kept her door locked, but instead she was halfway out in the hall, between our condos, wearing nothing but an old pair of sweats and staring at me as though I’d just murdered someone.

  “I’ll be in in a bit,” I said to Babs.

  He made an indistinguishable sound, unlocked our door, and went in, but I didn’t immediately cross the hall to be closer to her. Frankly, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she had started to scream or do something crazy if I got too close to her, and I wasn’t in the mood for anything like that. I wanted to go to bed more than anything, but I couldn’t do that until I defused whatever had gotten into Rachel’s head about me.