Falling for the Cop

by Dana Nussio

  “You’ll be back at the post in no time.” Vinnie glanced at the TV and shook his head. “But, sorry, I can’t promise you’ll get to work with any hot babes. At least any dressed like that.”

  He couldn’t promise a quick return to work or even an eventual one, either, but neither mentioned that.

  “Can I get you something from the kitchen?” Vinnie asked as he jumped up and strode toward it.

  “I could eat something.” Actually, he was so hungry he could finally empty out his refrigerator, but he wasn’t about to say that. How was he supposed to explain how he’d worked up that appetite? Were his few steps at the clinic today enough to justify that?

  Soon there was a veritable feast of leftovers on the tray in front of him. A little chicken, some pasta, half an enchilada. A big old glass of milk to wash it all down.

  Between bites Shane said, “Should I be nervous that you’re trying to fatten me up like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

  “Just making sure you keep your strength up,” Vinnie said with a grin. “Anything else I can do before I go?”

  Shane shook his head. “Several others have offered to stop by. You don’t have to take all the shifts.”

  “I know. I just miss seeing your ugly face at the post.”

  Shane dragged his teeth across his bottom lip. “Eventually, you’re going to have to forgive yourself for not getting there fast enough.” He didn’t bother mentioning where. They both knew what he was talking about.

  Vinnie shook his head. “I should have been there. I should have—”

  “No. I should have waited for backup.”

  “You know you couldn’t wait.”

  Shane crossed his arms. “So you can admit that I had no choice but to go in, but you can’t accept that without teleporting yourself, you couldn’t have made it to the scene any faster? You’re just going to have to let it go.”

  Vinnie shook his head, refusing to be let off so easily.

  “Remember, we’re both getting commendations,” Shane said. “You saved my life that night.”

  “Wait,” Vinnie said with a grin. “Then maybe you should be bringing me dinner. I like sushi. Homemade sushi.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Vinnie chuckled and then became serious again. “I just wish there was something more I could do now.”

  “Actually, there is something. Are you off tomorrow?” He waited for Vinnie’s nod before continuing. “I need you to take me to visit Kent and then take me to my game later on. Me and a friend of mine.”

  “Do you and this PT of yours need a chauffeur or something? Can I watch in the rearview mirror?”

  This PT of yours. Shane frowned. If he’d thought he’d pulled one over on Vinnie, he knew better now. “The other person will be Natalie’s mother.”

  “Sounds kinky, but you do you.”

  “Vinnie...”

  “Fine. Just tell me where and when.”

  Vinnie pulled his notebook from his uniform pocket and took down the address. He agreed to drive his SUV since they would be bringing along two wheelchairs.

  “What is it about this chick?” Vinnie said as he tucked away the notebook.

  “You mean Natalie’s mom?” he said with a grin.

  Vinnie only waited, using those interview skills that helped him to regularly get confessions from suspects.

  Finally, Shane couldn’t help but answer. “Natalie’s just had a rough time since her mother was paralyzed in a high-speed police chase.”

  “Oh, man. That stinks.”

  “Anyway, her mom hasn’t bounced back the way anyone would have hoped, so I thought that someone like me—” he paused, gesturing broadly to his wheelchair “—might be able to reach her. Help her move forward.”

  “It might make a difference.”

  “I just want to help out. That’s all.”

  Vinnie’s skeptical look told him he didn’t buy that this was all. But Vinnie didn’t call him on it. That was at least one of the reasons they were friends. They might push each other on certain subjects, but they also knew when to pull back. When to just let the other one work it out for himself.

  Sure, Shane hoped Vinnie would eventually forgive himself for a situation over which he’d had no control. Unlike Shane, he bore no culpability for the incident that kept him up at night. But like Shane, Vinnie had done his best afterward to make things as right as he could in the new reality that followed. Shane had suggested that Vinnie should forgive himself. Let it go. Maybe one of these days, he would follow his own advice.

  * * *

  SHANE PUSHED OPEN the door to Kent’s room at Clearview Hospital and peered inside. It looked the same. Stark. Antiseptic. Not a good place at all for a person to die. Kent’s wife, Tammy, was reading in a chair next to the bed, but she noticed him, smiled and stood, moving the chair out of the way.

  “It’s good to see you again, Shane,” she whispered and then lifted her chin to kiss him on the cheek. “He’s resting now.”

  “How’s he doing today?” Shane asked in a low voice.

  “Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Kent whispered.

  The other two turned back to him, and they all laughed. How his friend hadn’t lost his sense of humor by now, Shane couldn’t begin to understand. Kent looked worse every time Shane visited, his body thin and frail, his cheeks sunken and his eyes bugging out from his face.

  With a wave, Tammy excused herself from the room for a much-needed break. Shane moved his chair into the empty spot where the guest chair had been.

  “Okay, she’s gone now. How bad is it?”

  “Take the worst day of your life...and multiply it...by a thousand,” Kent told him.

  He laughed when he said it, but his laugh deteriorated into a long round of hacking. Shane braced himself, wanting to call for the nurse and yet realizing that this was part of it and would be until the end.

  “Now don’t worry about talking,” Shane said. “We can just stay quiet.”

  But Kent only shook his head, cleared his throat. “You talk. About the girl.”

  Shane could only smile. He’d shared more details about Natalie with Kent than he’d told anyone else, but then he knew Kent never shared his secrets.

  “Natalie’s great. I saw her again yesterday.”

  “How much of her?” Kent managed.

  This time, Shane only shrugged.

  “So that’s how...it is.”

  Shane lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Details become...private...when she’s special.”

  He nodded. “Oh, she’s special. I can’t believe she’s paying attention at all to my sorry butt, but she is. She doesn’t treat me like I’m broken, either. I really like that about her.”

  “Think you like...everything about her.” Kent broke off in another series of coughs.

  “I do.”

  “Did you...tell her...your stuff?”

  Shane nodded. “And she’s still around.”

  “She’s...a good one.”

  “You’re right. She is.”

  “You’re a...good one, too. Always...have been.”

  Emotion clogged Shane’s throat then, and he had to wait a few seconds before he could speak again. “You know, I owe you so much.”

  Kent only shook his head. “Best investment...”

  “You ever made,” he finished for him. He’d heard it dozens of times before. If only he could believe his friend’s words.

  “You need to...forgive yourself,” Kent told him. “It’s been...too long.”

  Kent might have said more, but he started coughing again, and this time he couldn’t stop. A couple of nurses rushed into the room, and Shane found himself in the hall, waiting and hoping now wouldn’t be the time.<
br />
  A few minutes later, Tammy reemerged from the room.

  “They gave him something so he can rest now,” she said. “Maybe you can come back tomorrow. He loves your visits.”

  Shane rolled forward to hug Tammy and then turned and headed down the hall. He would come back tomorrow and every tomorrow after that if Kent wanted him to. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do this, to watch Kent die, but he would do whatever was necessary. Kent had been there for him when no one else had. And Shane would be there for him until the end.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NATALIE FROWNED AT the gymnasium door as the Junior Cats lined up their chairs on one end of the court to practice free throws. Players from the Lansing Lightning repeated a similar drill on the opposite end. But at least that other team had more than one coach to catch the rebounds that bounced off the rim and rolled every which way.

  Where was Shane? He was supposed to be here in time for the warm-up. Did he think she could coach this team alone? The last question deepened her frown. When had Shane become so indispensable to the team and to her? She’d coached without an assistant for two seasons before he’d come along, but now it didn’t seem right without him.

  Natalie glanced at the door again, though she doubted he could have made an entrance since she’d last checked thirty seconds ago. Was it just that she was annoyed that he was late after he’d told her he would meet her at the gym, or was she coming out of her skin over seeing him after yesterday? After he’d seen every inch of her and vice versa. Was she just supposed to pretend everything was normal after they’d shared the most intimate thing two people could and then she’d sprinted from his house?

  She blinked several times to push away the deluge of images that filled her mind and caused heat to crawl up her neck. Those pictures had been following her around for the past day, but she especially shouldn’t be thinking those things here. There were children around, for goodness’ sake. To keep her mind more appropriately occupied, she chased a few more basketballs, tossing them back to the players.

  “Great job, Kendall,” she called out when the girl’s basket sank home.

  Lucas stopped his chair next to Natalie. “When’s Coach Shane going to get here?”

  Her gaze flitted to the door again, and then she glanced down at the boy. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

  But she wasn’t sure. Had he been in a car accident? He already had a serious injury. Had something acerbated his physical issues, like, for instance, an afternoon of great sex? She couldn’t allow herself to wonder if it had been truly good for him, a guy who’d had many women before her and would continue to that habit after she was gone.

  Only a few minutes remained until tip-off. Her jaw tightened. Was Shane missing because the game was on Saturday this time, and it messed with his social life? She had no time to worry about that now. Whether Shane was there or not, these kids needed her. Now that they’d learned what it felt like to win, she needed to help them repeat that joy. Of all the teams in the league, the Lightning was the only team with a record almost as bad as the Cats’, and they needed to capitalize on that vulnerability.

  “Go, Junior Cats!”

  At the familiar voice, Natalie jerked up from where she’d bent to collect a ball. Sure enough, Shane was coming through the doorway, his friend Vinnie behind him.

  “Coach Shane’s here!” one of the players called.

  Their balls forgotten, the players started toward Shane, who was wheeling their way, as well. He caught them before they reached half-court.

  “You’re here, Coach Shane.” Chase squeezed in to claim a high five.

  “You’re late,” Lucas pointed out.

  “Why are you late?” another asked.

  That’s what Natalie wanted to know. At least he was safe. With one of the balls still in her arms, she strode over to them and stood in the circle forming around Shane.

  “About time,” she mouthed when he glanced her way. She pointed to the game clock, where valuable minutes of warm-up time were slipping away.

  “I was just apologizing to the kids,” Shane said to Natalie instead. “My errand took longer than I expected.”

  Natalie nodded, disappointed with his excuse. Even after all the time he’d put into his work with the team, he wasn’t taking his responsibility as assistant coach seriously. Just like he didn’t take the time he and she had spent together seriously.

  “I hope it was an important errand,” she couldn’t help saying.

  “Oh, I think so.”

  At his vague comment, she frowned. Shane only grinned like a kid with a secret.

  “I brought a surprise. For you.”

  His gaze caught with Natalie’s, letting her know that he was referring to her.

  At his nod, Vinnie stepped to the door again and leaned outside. When he backed away again, the foot-plate of another wheelchair appeared in the doorway, two feet on top of that peeked out from beneath a plaid throw that looked vaguely familiar. Natalie continued her visual path up, past a bulky parka to a face peeking out from beneath an oversize stocking cap.

  Her mother’s face.

  Natalie dropped the basketball. She didn’t even try to retrieve it. Elaine waved as if surprising her daughter at a basketball game was something she did daily and twice on Thursdays. That only made her appearance there tonight seem like more of a slap in the face. Natalie could count the times her mother had watched her play basketball on no hands whatsoever. And as for the number of times Elaine had been a spectator at a game she coached, well, including today, that would be...one.

  Natalie would have rubbed her eyes, but her hands seemed to be glued to her sides. What was her mother doing there? Finally, she managed to return the wave, but a smile was just too much to expect.

  Laura, Elaine’s caregiver, appeared in the doorway behind her chair and reached down to pluck the cap off her head. A few electrified strands stood at attention, but the rest of her hair stayed in place, suggesting that Elaine had taken special care with her appearance. For Shane.

  “Who’s that, Coach Natalie?”

  She started as Chase took hold of her hand. She hadn’t even noticed the child’s approach.

  “That’s my...mom.” She hated how those words stuck in her throat. If only she’d been able to point out her mother to her teammates even once while she was actually playing.

  “Your mom has a wheelchair like us?” Kendall asked.

  “You have a lot of friends who drive wheelchairs,” Lucas noted.

  She managed a smile and ruffled his hair. “Yes, I do.”

  One too many right now, she decided. She turned her head to find that superfluous friend watching her. Shane was so pleased with himself that her hard look seemed to surprise him. Had he really expected her to turn cartwheels over his orchestrating her mother’s appearance? How dare he get involved in something he didn’t understand.

  The buzzer sounded then, indicating that warm-up time had ended. Great. Now he’d messed up the warm-up, too. They were going to lose, and it would be all his fault. A rumble of fury slid through her, anger that was probably an over-the-top reaction to Shane’s naive intrusion, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt trapped, this moment playing with an audience when she wasn’t prepared to talk about it even in the privacy of her home.

  But, like in so many other areas of her life, she had a job to do. An obligation. She owed these kids to be a strong coach, even if she might fall into a jumbled mess of emotions as soon as her players were all safely in their cars and headed home.

  “All right, everybody,” she called out. “Huddle in.” She wished she could say everybody but Coach Shane, but she didn’t need to draw more attention to the situation. The parents probably already knew something was up, anyway, with an assistant coach who arrived halfway through the warm-up
and a coach who let precious warm-up time slip away while staring at fans.

  “I’m so proud of each and every one of you for all you’ve accomplished so far this season.”

  She refused to look toward the woman parked on the far end of the bleachers. The woman who’d seldom praised her over any of her accomplishments, let alone those on the basketball court. Though she could feel Shane watching her, his gaze as heavy as a touch, she didn’t look his way, either. He’d forced her to face some of her life’s biggest resentments in front of a crowd, like she was on some reality TV show but without a clever script.

  “You’ve worked hard,” she told her players. “You’ve learned to work as a team. Now I just want you to play your best and have a great time out there.”

  In the few games he’d attended as assistant coach, Shane had sat back and let her give the pregame and postgame speeches, but this time he rolled forward from his place in the circle.

  “You’ve also learned what victory tastes like. And it tastes sweet, doesn’t it?” He grinned as he glanced around the circle, waiting for a nod from each player. “So play together, have fun and, if you get the chance, kick some butt, too.”

  Their eyes wide over the fact that their coach had said “butt” in front of them, they all nodded again. Natalie was the only one not smiling.

  “Everybody ready?” She waited until all the players had their hands poised in front of them.

  “Break,” they all said in unison, clapping their hands just once.

  The five starters rolled onto the court for the tip-off. Natalie held her breath until after the toss that put the ball into play. She’d done that every game since her first few seasons in elementary school, one of those strange traditions that players develop and superstitiously continue for fear of impact on their game if they don’t. Everything felt different about it this time. The flat thuds of the ball bouncing on the court as if it was low on air. The uncharacteristic brightness of the old fluorescent gymnasium lights.

  “Let’s go, Junior Cats!” Shane called out.

  At least that should have sounded normal to her. He’d repeated those same words at every game he’d attended, even before he became her assistant. But the response that came from the stands—now that was different.