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.
One more. Just one more.
He
