She knew she was falling in love with him. She knew she might spend the rest of her life kicking herself, but maybe it was best to cut it off before things were even worse—the exchange of “I love you’s,” the lonely nights spent Skyping or texting when you’d give almost anything to lie next to your loved one and tell him about your day.
She reached over to kiss him one more time. He was almost asleep. Hopefully, he wouldn’t figure out she was gone until morning.
“Good night, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll be back soon. Sleep well.”
He let out a murmur of protest, but he was so drugged up he couldn’t force himself awake. She watched him relax into a deep sleep. She stroked the roughness of his cheek and kissed the middle of his forehead. She turned to pick up the backpack and handbag she’d brought with her from San Francisco.
She hurried out of his room, took the elevator to the first floor, and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag to let Mr. Curtis’s pilot know she was on her way to Boeing Field.
DREW’S BEDSIDE PHONE rang the next morning. He reflexively reached out to grab it and let out a “son of a bitch” as he realized that probably wasn’t the best career move. He should have put the fucking thing on the table next to his left hand. In those split seconds, he also realized that Kendall wasn’t in the room. Her stuff was gone.
Shit.
He knocked the receiver off of the cradle, said, “Just a minute,” and finally managed to grab it with his good hand.
“Hello?”
“It’s Kendall,” she said. “Good morning.”
“Where are you? I thought you were going to be here this morning—”
She let out a sigh. “I thought I was too. I’m so sorry.”
“When did you decide you were leaving?”
“I had meetings today.”
“Wouldn’t it have been a good thing to tell me about yesterday?”
He could hear the strain in her voice, but he was hurt and angry. Pissed enough to finally say something about it, as a matter of fact.
“Drew, I’m so sorry—”
“That’s what you claim, but I’m not sure you really mean it. I need you right now.”
He heard her gasp, and he heard voices in the background.
“Kendall, we’re ready to get started,” a male voice said.
“I have to go,” she said.
He’d make it easy on her. He knew it was childish and he should cut her a little slack for being in an impossible situation, but right now, he didn’t want to. He hung up on her.
AFTER A SHOWER that had nothing in common with the “naughty nurses” porn he’d seen at other guys’ bachelor parties, Drew’s incision was inspected, re-bandaged and wrapped again for the trip home. He was helped into cross trainers, Sharks warm-ups, and a very loose button-down shirt. His mom draped a fleece jacket over his currently useless shoulder and his entourage (nurses, parents, and Sharks security) made their way to the SUV that would be taking him home.
“I thought we’d see Kendall this morning,” his mom said as he was wheeled down the hospital corridor.
“She had to go back to San Francisco,” he said.
“Maybe you could talk with her later, or she can fly back for the weekend.” His mom sounded so hopeful. He knew he was about to break her heart.
Drew had dated a lot of women over the years. His parents had been friendly toward them. His mom even hinted around about a couple of them. In other words, she would have been happy to have a daughter-in-law. Kendall had evidently joined that shortlist. His mom knew what his schedule was like during football season. She didn’t understand Kendall wasn’t going to be able to get out of going to the Miners’ game on Sunday in Atlanta unless she was bleeding from every pore, and even then it was not a certainty.
“Mom, I think we broke up this morning,” he said.
His normally calm, quiet, sweet mom grabbed the arm of the wheelchair he was currently riding in and shrieked, “WHAT?”
The small group of people surrounding Drew came to a screeching halt. His dad reached out to slide his arm around his mom’s shoulders.
“Bonnie, we can talk about it later.”
Drew reached over to take his mom’s hand in his good one. “Mom. It’ll be okay.” His mom pulled away from him.
“You broke up with her? That poor girl got on a plane to spend twenty-four hours with you. Why would you do such a thing? I really like her. Are you nuts?”
“Why would you think I broke up with her? Maybe she dumped me,” he said.
“I saw the way she looked at you yesterday. She’s in love with you, or my name isn’t Bonnie McCoy. I’m ashamed of you, Andrew David McCoy. Ashamed.”
His mom dropped his arm and walked away from him. He stared after her in astonishment. Maybe the pain meds were making him hallucinate or something. She wasn’t that mad when he dented the fender on his dad’s month-old truck as a newly-licensed driver.
If (and when) she found out he hung up on Kendall’s attempt to apologize, there would be additional hell to pay: His mom would not tolerate rudeness.
After a pause, Cheryl got his wheelchair going again. “It looks like you’re in trouble, Mister. Are you sure you want to go home right now?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Maybe the neighbor can come over and help me take a shower,” Drew joked. “I also have a guest room, Cheryl.”
“Mr. Cheryl might have a problem with that.”
“Tell him it’s a business thing.”
“God, you’re a flirt,” she said. He had to laugh.
He was rolled onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital a few minutes later. A small knot of jersey-clad Sharks fans held up “Get Well Soon” signs for him, and they chanted “Go Sharks! Go Sharks!” There were a few members of the media filming his exit from the hospital. It must have been a slow news day.
He glanced up at Cheryl.
“Will you take me over there?”
“I suppose.” She grinned at him.
“Have they been out here all day?”
“They’ve been out here on and off since you were admitted.”
He didn’t have a pen, but he was willing to bet someone in the crowd might let him use one. The fans burst into applause when he was wheeled over to them. He tried to stand up, but he felt Cheryl’s hand on his good shoulder.
“You can’t be out of the wheelchair until you’re in a vehicle and off hospital property, Buster.”
“Crap,” he said good-naturedly. A little boy with no front teeth wearing a reproduction McCoy jersey bounced up to him.
“Will you sign my shirt?”
“Of course I will,” he said. “I think I need a pen, though.”
Someone from the crowd handed him a Sharpie.
“Thank you so much,” he said to the woman with the pen.
He saw color rising in her face, and she gave him a shy smile. In other words, she wanted to talk with him, but she was too shy. He’d make sure she got an autograph. He could sign a few more in the meantime. He’d have to use his non-dominant hand. Hopefully, nobody would mind.
He felt his dad’s hand on his good shoulder. “Son, I’m taking your mother back to your house. I think she needs to lie down for a little while.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s a little overwrought. I think she’s tired.”
Drew’s stomach clenched in concern. He wondered if she was getting sick. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d freaked out like she had a few minutes ago. Maybe she was stressed out from taking care of him and the ongoing fights with his dad over her job. He was going to find out what was wrong as soon as he could get out of here.
“Do you need my keys?” Drew said.
“No. We’ve got the other key. We’ll see you at home.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Drew went on signing autographs until he’d signed for everyone. He gave the pen back to the woman who’d handed it to him in the first place right after
he signed her McCoy jersey. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Abby,” she said. She gave him another shy smile. She’d waited until everyone else got their turn to talk with him, she didn’t complain, and she wasn’t wearing a ring. If Collins or Taylor were here right now, he’d be introducing her and letting them slug it out over who got to take her out for coffee.
“You saved my butt, Abby. Thanks.” He extended his hand to shake hers and said, “If you’ll call the Sharks headquarters on Monday and leave your contact information with the receptionist, I’ll make sure you get some Sharks gear on me.”
“I would love that!” Abby said. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
Cheryl leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Listen, big guy, I need to get you in that car to go home. My boss is going to kill me.”
“Got it.”
He waved goodbye to the Sharks fans, who cheered as he was helped out of the wheelchair and into the black SUV the team’s security guys drove. Chuck threw himself into the driver’s seat, pulled on his seatbelt, and they were off.
DREW TALKED CHUCK into obtaining a to-go order from Burgermaster on the way to his house. This might have had something to do with the fact Drew offered to treat Chuck and his colleague.
“I need a Tom & Jerry shake,” Drew told Chuck. “The hospital food wasn’t terrible, but I could go for a cheeseburger too.”
“Gotcha,” Chuck said. “Is there any place else we need to stop before we take you to your house?”
“I think I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
He reached into the pocket of his warm-ups and scrolled down his contacts list with one fingertip. Every Shark knew Amy Hamilton Stephens, the owner of Crazy Daisy in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, specialized in smoothing the feathers of infuriated females among other flower-and-gift-sending emergencies. He hit the number and held the phone up to his ear.
“Crazy Daisy,” a cheerful female voice answered.
“Hi. Is this Amy?”
“It sure is. Who’s this?”
“It’s Drew McCoy, and I think I need your help.”
He heard Amy laugh, and she said, “Well, this is a first. I usually hear from your teammates. How are you feeling? Didn’t you have surgery the day before yesterday?”
“I did, and that’s why I need your help. My mom is a little irritated with me at the moment. I’m wondering what you might recommend. I’d also like to send something to the woman I’m seeing, but I’m not sure what she might like.”
“An irritated mom is a new one,” Amy said. “This might call for fine jewelry. I know you just got out of the hospital, though, so you might not be in the mood for shopping. My brother-in-law knows his way around a jewelry store. Let me call him and get an opinion or two, and I’ll call you back. Is the number on my caller ID your phone?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’ll think about what the woman in your life might like as well. Talk to you in a few minutes.” She hung up.
“Sorry to eavesdrop, but that little Tiffany’s box can get you out of a hell of a lot of trouble once in a while,” Chuck said. He pulled into Burgermaster’s parking lot and parked in one of the stalls. “Maybe you should call your parents and ask if they’d like you to pick them up some food.”
“Good idea,” Drew said.
Twenty minutes later, the SUV was on its way to Drew’s house again with multiple bags of food and drinks, and Drew’s phone rang.
“Hey, McCoy,” Brandon McKenna said. He hadn’t lived in New Orleans for almost fifteen years now, but he’d never lost the accent. “How are you doin’? My sister Amy called. She says you’re in a jam.”
“My mom is mad at me. I know it’s ridiculous.”
“Not at all,” Brandon said. “I just happen to be at Tiffany’s at Bellevue Square right now. If I remember correctly, you live in Clyde Hill, don’t you?” The last year Brandon had played for the Sharks, Drew hosted the pre-function for the defensive players’ holiday dinner at his house. He was fairly sure his neighbors still remembered it too.
“Yeah. Just off the main drag,” Drew said.
“Got it.” Brandon let out a breath. “The last time my mama was irritated with me, I bought her a charm bracelet with “Mom” engraved on it. She cried and everything, man. How about I pick up one of those for you?”
“I think I have some cash.” Drew was already grabbing for his wallet to see how much cash he had. “How much will I owe you?”
“A couple hundred dollars and I’ll drop it by your house on the way home.”
“Deal. I’ll buy you a beer for your trouble.”
He heard Brandon’s booming laugh. “I’ll take you up on that beer. How about an interview for Sunday’s show too?”
After Brandon McKenna retired from the league, he took over Matt Stephens’ (also retired from the Sharks) seat on the Sunday morning pre-game show. Brandon was well-liked by viewers and his colleagues. He had no problem getting interviews with players, either: After all, he remembered what it was like to answer the same questions over and over. He didn’t ask the obvious, and his efforts were rewarded by the stature of players that would sit down with him and nobody else.
“As long as I don’t have to fly anywhere, you’ve got yourself an interview,” Drew said.
“We can do this at your house or at a studio in Seattle, whichever you prefer. Let’s discuss it when I get there. I should see you in the next half an hour or so.”
“Thanks, Brandon.”
“You’d do the same for me, man.”
“You’re right. I would.”
Chuck was pulling several bags of food and drinks from Burgermaster out of the SUV. Drew picked up the duffel bag he’d shoved clean underwear and socks into. There were also some written instructions on what to do with his shoulder, a couple of prescriptions, and a referral to a rehab doc. He knew the Sharks training staff would handle his ongoing care, but it was always good to have a variety of options.
He had hoped he’d make the trip up the stairs to his front door with Kendall. He’d wanted to spend the evening with her, despite the fact all he could do right now was talk. He missed her already. Hanging up on her was a dick move too.
No wonder the women in his life were disgusted with him right now. He felt like shit, but that was no excuse. His mom (and dad) dropped everything to come out and take care of him. The woman he cared for had also gone out of her way to spend even a few hours with him.
He needed to make amends. He’d better start now.
DREW AND CHUCK spread the burger feast over his dining room table. Drew’s dad’s face lit up as he grabbed a juicy cheeseburger and a chocolate shake out of one of the bags.
“Don’t tell your mother,” Neil said. “She’s restricting my red meat intake.”
“I’m already in trouble with Mom.” Drew dropped into a chair. “Where is she, anyway?”
“She’s taking a nap. We came back here last night and she still couldn’t sleep for worrying about you.” His dad sat down at the table. “She’ll be in a better mood when she wakes up.”
“She hasn’t acted like that since I was in high school and I missed curfew by an hour.” And he never did it again after listening to how scared his mom was he’d been in an accident or something. Maybe he was a mama’s boy, but he still called her first thing after the Sharks’ plane landed when they traveled to an away game. He loved his dad and he knew his dad loved him, but he knew his mom worried about her kids and grandkids.
“I’ll be taking a little nap myself after I finish this, Son.”
His dad reached out for a container of excellent fries and one of the small cups of ketchup they’d gotten with the order. Chuck and his colleague were devouring their food. Drew reached into the bag for a couple of cheeseburgers and grabbed his Tom & Jerry shake. He lifted it up to toast.
“Here’s to a speedy and complete recovery,” Drew’s dad said.
“Chee
rs,” the three other men said. The only noise in Drew’s dining room for the next fifteen minutes or so was crinkling paper and foil food wrappers and an occasional “Mmm.”
Drew’s front doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” he said and shoved himself to his feet. Damn shoulder.
Brandon McKenna stood on the porch with two small Tiffany’s carrier bags. Drew had talked with him several times before, but he knew his dad would love meeting him.
“C’mon in,” Drew said. “How about a beer? We’ve also got cheeseburgers and shakes, if you’re hungry.”
“My wife would appreciate it if I didn’t eat this close to dinner, but I will take a beer,” Brandon said. He reached out to shake Neil McCoy’s hand. “I’m Brandon,” he said. “Good to see you both too,” he said to Chuck.
Drew managed to get a beer and the bottle opener one-handed and delivered both to Brandon, who handed him one of the carrier bags in return.
“Your mama should love this. My mama hasn’t taken hers off since I gave it to her.”
“What’s in the other bag, guy?” Drew dug the cash out of his wallet and handed it to Brandon.
“I got my wife a high-heeled shoe charm for her bracelet.”
“That’s nice,” Chuck said.
“What’d you do?” Neil said, and the men sitting at Drew’s table burst into laughter.
“Well, it’s actually what I didn’t do.” Brandon passed one hand over his face. “I told my bride that I would handle things with our twin sons yesterday so she could go to some shoe sale at Nordstrom with her mama and her sister—”
“That was your first mistake,” Chuck joked. Brandon grinned at him.
“I was having lunch with a couple of my colleagues, and time got away from me. When I arrived at home, her mama and sister couldn’t break away, and my wife very sweetly told me she wasn’t happy about my behavior.” Brandon shook his head. “She doesn’t like missing a good shoe sale. Plus, our boys are mobile now. A visit to the ladies’ shoe department wouldn’t have ended well.” He glanced around the table. “They take after their daddy.”
Covering Kendall Page 21
