Rain Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 5)

by Catherine Gayle

  That child was determined to give us both heart attacks.

  It didn’t help that Snoopy kept egging the little boy on. Although, his barking tended to alert us that Erik might be doing something he shouldn’t be, so I supposed he was helpful in that way, at least.

  London was a good influence on me, though, whether I liked to admit it or not. If ever there was someone who deserved to indulge in a bit of self-pity, it was London, but she was constantly reminding me to focus on the things I could do for myself and not on those I couldn’t.

  “Dana told me they’re planning to take your cast off this afternoon, before your therapy session,” she said conversationally at one point while prying Erik’s fingers free from her wheel spokes for what had to be the tenth time in an hour.

  “Yeah. They’re switching me to a removable walking boot, I think. Something I can take off when I need to, like when I take a bath.” And none too soon if you asked me. The itching was killer, and no amount of baby powder seemed to help.

  Granted, if my biggest complaint at this point was itching, I supposed I was doing pretty well. Perspective, right?

  “That should make it a lot easier to get around.”

  “And to get clean,” I pointed out, laughing.

  “That too.” She winked. “Maybe you can forget about the crutches soon, then.”

  “Probably soon. I think I’m going to have to use them to help with balance and weight bearing for a while.”

  “Still…” She gave me a pointed look, just before reaching around and dragging her son off the entertainment center once again, somehow seeing him out of the corner of her eye. “Progress is progress. Don’t knock it.”

  “Trying not to.”

  A few hours later, she left me at the hospital for my therapy session and drove off to deliver Snoopy to Ravyn’s house before heading out for her tournament. Erik was still giggling and babbling to himself from his car seat in the back.

  Before therapy, though, they took me to an exam room to remove the cast. My sigh of relief when they cut the plaster off my leg was louder than I’d anticipated.

  The technician chuckled. “Let’s get your leg washed and dried, and then I’ll get you fitted in your walking boot.” She brought in a basin of warm water, as well as towels, washcloths, and soap, then settled in to give my leg a sponge bath.

  “I can really shower now?” I asked.

  “You can really shower now, as long as you sit in the shower chair. Eventually, you’ll be able to stand in the shower if you’ve got rails. One step at a time, right?”

  I nodded. “And I can dip my toes in the pool on a hot day?”

  “If you can find a pool that’s not all dried up.” She winked at me. “Heck, you can get all the way in the pool if you want. Water’s gentle on the body. It’d be a good way for you to get some exercise and maybe start to gradually build the strength up in the limb.”

  Rebuilding the strength seemed an insurmountable task. I couldn’t believe how thin my leg had become, just from lack of use. It looked like all the muscle had melted away. Wouldn’t surprise me much, considering how much I’d sweated inside the plaster, but still. It was hard to reconcile that this was my leg, the same one that had been so full and fit only weeks ago. Especially when compared to my other leg, which still seemed full and whole and healthy.

  Once I was all cleaned up and they’d shown me how to tighten and fasten the hooks and latches on my boot, I spent the next couple of hours going through physical and occupational therapy sessions. Today’s focus was on learning how to get around in the boot, which was a lot more difficult than I’d anticipated.

  It was definitely nice to be able to walk again, though.

  By the time Ravyn picked me up at the end of the day, I was exhausted.

  “Look at you!” she said when I met her in the parking lot. “Talk about an improvement.”

  “You have no idea how good this feels.” I was using the crutches for balance but trying to put my weight on my leg, like they’d told me to.

  “Mind if we get takeout for dinner?” she asked. “We can pick something up on the way home and eat sitting out by the pool.”

  “Do I mind?” I almost spluttered. “I am dying to dip my toes in the water.” For that matter, I wouldn’t mind dipping the rest of me in the water, either. I didn’t have a swimsuit right now, but I wasn’t sure I’d let that stop me.

  “I can imagine.”

  We stopped at a Chinese place halfway between the rehab center and her house and picked up our food to go. As soon as we got to her place, we both changed clothes—she put on a swimsuit and I dug out a tank top and a pair of shorts.

  We took our meal out with us and ate it straight from the Styrofoam containers. Once I was seated, I unlatched my brace and let my legs hang over the edge of the pool, my feet dangling in the water. I let out an indulgent moan almost as soon as the cool water hit me.

  “You can get in, you know,” she said.

  “I know. I will.”

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  One thing at a time, though.

  I opened my to-go box and dug in, just as Snoopy jumped into the water and splashed us both. We did our best to protect the food from the water, but there was only so much we could do. That dog seemed determined to get us wet. He barked happily and swam all the way across the pool before climbing out on the other side. Then he raced around, his tail wagging like crazy, and repeated the process.

  “Better eat fast,” Ravyn said.

  “No joke.”

  By the time we finished eating, Snoopy had worn himself out and was floating along on a foam mattress-like thing that he’d confiscated, and the sun was starting to set.

  “Wanna get in?” Ravyn asked.

  “In this?” I could just imagine the T-shirt clinging to my body. It might even be see-through once it got wet.

  “Why not? Who cares? No one’s going to see but me and Snoopy.”

  She had a point.

  “I’ll help you get out afterward if you have problems.”

  That sealed the deal for me. I set my to-go box aside and lowered myself into the water, practically groaning at the sensation. The water felt cool and silky on my skin. I hadn’t experienced anything so relaxing or indulgent in recent memory.

  Ravyn got in, too, after taking care of our trash.

  “Don’t you worry about the chemicals messing with your hair color?” I asked.

  “Nah. It’s more work keeping the dreads in good condition than it is keeping the color vibrant.”

  “What about your tattoos? Don’t they fade?” She had more ink on her skin than most of the people I knew combined.

  “Sunscreen is your friend when you have tattoos.” She swam over to the other side of the pool and grabbed a ball that was floating. As soon as she tossed it, Snoopy leaped off his makeshift bed and swam for it, then brought it back to her. His tail was working overtime.

  She tossed the ball for him a few times, focusing on wearing him out, which gave me a bit of a reprieve. Not that she’d been prying or trying to get me to talk about anything, but after spending the day with London and then in therapy, all I could focus on was trying to rest and recover.

  Ravyn pushed one of the floating mats in my direction. “Get on that. Put your feet up and relax for a while. You’ve had a big day. The sun’s setting, so you won’t burn.”

  That was more tempting than anything I could’ve come up with on my own. I shimmied onto it and stretched out, resting my head against the slightly raised pillow and reveling in the sensation of the cool water slipping and sliding over my hips and legs. It was so relaxing that I found my eyes closing, and soon I was dozing off with the water lapping against me.

  When I opened my eyes again, it was almost fully dark out. Ravyn had gotten out of the pool and turned on the outdoor lights in the backyard, and she was stretching out on a lawn chair with her sketchpad and pencils. Snoopy had climbed onto my lap and was sleeping, his tail
dragging in the water as we drifted.

  “Come on,” I said, trying to rouse him.

  He whimpered in protest.

  “I need to get out,” I said, laughing, but he didn’t budge.

  “You’re going to have to shove him off you,” Ravyn said, not looking up from her sketchpad. “Holler if you need help. He’s getting kind of big for that.”

  It wasn’t easy, but I managed to force him off me. He swam over to the stairs and got out, then made another running leap into the water. Apparently, after his nap, he was ready to play some more.

  I rolled off into the water and swam over to the stairs. Ravyn had moved my brace and crutches for me already and laid out a couple of towels, so I was able to dry off and suit up again before joining her under the umbrella.

  She passed a bottle of water over to me. “You ever think about getting a tattoo?” she asked conversationally, but I got the sense that it was a weighted question.

  I took a sip and peeked at her sketchpad.

  It was a butterfly, with a ribbon for the body, done in all sorts of shades of teal and purple. She’d thrown in a couple of splashes of pinks and greens for contrast.

  I had to swallow hard, because even if I didn’t know the specific meaning behind each of the elements, I got the distinct impression that she’d designed this butterfly specifically for me.

  “What does it mean?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice level, but it was starting to fade out on me, like it had in the hospital, and I felt choked up.

  “The teal in the ribbon is for sexual assault survivors. The purple is for domestic violence survivors. And I thought the butterfly could be you.”

  I started crying again, which drove me crazy. I was so over crying all the time. But there wasn’t any way I could have stopped it this time. Ravyn had taken me by surprise so thoroughly that there was no other reaction possible.

  She set her sketchpad down on the table, laying her colored pencil on top of it, and passed me a towel since there were no tissues out here. “Good tears or bad tears?” she asked.

  “Good tears.”

  “I thought so. You don’t have to give me an answer now. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want it. And if you wanted something different, that’s okay, too. I won’t mind or be offended. I just got the inspiration to draw it while you were floating in the pool, and I wanted to make the offer.”

  I nodded and dried my eyes, and she got up to haul Snoopy out of the pool so we could go inside.

  “Where would you put it?” I asked, but only after I trusted my voice enough to chance speaking.

  “Anywhere you want it. You can have it somewhere it’s hidden and just for you or somewhere you can show it off. There are lots of possibilities we could explore. I’ve done some pieces for women who’ve had mastectomies, and they cover the scars. We could do something to cover one of your scars if you wanted. Not right away—you’ve got to let the scar heal for about a year first, at least. Anyway, no need to make up your mind now. Let’s dry off and clean up so we can get inside and watch the game.”

  I gathered up the towels and trash from our meal, tidying our mess while Ravyn did her best to dry the dog. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the design.

  Before we went into the house, I took out the cell phone Ethan had given me, and I snapped a picture and sent it to him in a text message, asking for his opinion. He probably wouldn’t answer until late tonight, because they weren’t allowed to have their phones on so close to game time.

  But he surprised me by responding almost immediately.

  It’s gorgeous. But so are you.

  I tossed my phone onto the pile of stuff we needed to carry back inside, but now I had the faint hint of a smile trying to break free, and I didn’t think I’d be able to stop it.

  And to be honest, I didn’t want to stop it.

  IT’D BEEN AGES since I’d felt this sort of itch to get home from a road trip.

  Back when Kinsey and I had been together, maybe. Or occasionally if I was missing Carter and knew he’d be flying down for a weekend visit, but these days we used Facetime almost every day, so the ache didn’t get to be too bad.

  But being away from Natalie for the past five days had been torture.

  I told myself it was just because I was worried about her—how she would handle staying with the other WAGs and moving from house to house while I was gone, how she was getting along in therapy, whether Hayes would attempt something despite the protective order she had against him—but in truth, it was more than that.

  I still wasn’t ready to give what I was feeling a name, especially because Natalie wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship. Hell, she might never be ready for that, and I refused to be the asshole who pushed her into anything she didn’t want, no matter how I felt about her. I cared too much to do something like that. She deserved better. And if I pushed her into something she wasn’t emotionally prepared for—or possibly even worse, something she didn’t want—it wouldn’t be good for either of us in the end.

  There was no getting around the fact that I’d been insanely distracted on this road trip, though, and it was making itself known through my performance on the ice.

  Doug Spurrier, our head coach and a guy better known around the league as Spurs, held me back after the morning skate before our game against the Portland Storm—the final game of this trip. He watched the rest of the guys heading off the ice, waiting until we were alone.

  “You’re playing tonight,” he said, taking his time and carefully measuring his words, “but you’re not going to get too many more chances. At least not in the short term. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. I understand you’re worried about Natalie, and with good reason. But you’ve still got a job to do. I can’t allow you to jeopardize games for the entire team just because you’re distracted. Everyone has shit going on at home, but we all have to do our parts. We’ve got to start off this season on the right foot.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I dragged a hand down my face, three days’ worth of stubble scratching my palm. “I’ll get it under control.”

  “Foul up tonight, and Ike will be taking your place against Vancouver.”

  Ike was what the guys all called Isaac Johnson, who was our seventh defenseman these days. He hadn’t gotten into a game yet in the regular season, so he was due to get some ice time, anyway. But I didn’t want it to be at my expense.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I insisted. And I intended to make sure of it.

  “Get your shit together, Bear.”

  I nodded, and he sent me on my way.

  Bear was what most of the guys called me these days. It started out being Huggy Bear, a play on my last name and my size, I supposed, not to mention my tendency to be a bit standoffish and quiet. In general, I kept myself to myself and minded my own shit. While they rarely used the Huggy part of it anymore, Bear remained.

  I showered and changed, then ordered room service instead of going out with any of the other guys.

  Prince and a few of the younger guys were having lunch in the hotel restaurant and had invited me to join them. Wasn’t interested, though.

  Zee, Razor, Hunter, and Andrew Jensen had asked me to tag along with them—they all used to play here in Portland, and they were meeting up with a bunch of their former teammates for lunch at some Italian place called Amani’s to catch up on old times—but I wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone unless that someone happened to be Natalie. And since she was in Tulsa and I was in Portland, I figured I was better off keeping myself company instead of dragging anyone else down with my moodiness.

  While I was eating, I took out my phone and checked the messages I’d missed.

  Kinsey had texted me a few pictures of Carter hanging out with some friends at a water park. He was acting like a complete goofball, totally hamming it up for the camera, which made me laugh. My kid was a character.

  There was a quick text message from Natalie, just three simple words: I
’m doing it. No doubt that meant she was letting Ravyn give her that tattoo. I was curious to know where she was putting it, but she might not want to tell me. I sent a thumbs-up emoji and a couple of hearts as a response. She could show me if she wanted, or not. Totally up to her.

  Then I checked my email, but almost immediately wished I hadn’t.

  Someone from the district attorney’s office had sent me a notice that Lennon’s two friends had both managed to come up with the required bail money and had therefore been released on their own recognizance. So now all three of those bastards were out and about, but I was halfway across the country and there wasn’t anything I could do if they decided to give Natalie a hard time.

  Yeah, she had protective orders against them, but honestly, those orders were nothing but scraps of paper. If any one of those sons of bitches wanted to do something to her—to make her pay for the fact that they’d gotten caught—there wasn’t anything a protective order could do to stop them.

  I shot off a group text message to all the WAGs who were helping to look after Natalie while we were on the road. I’d barely hit Send when the knock sounded at my door, signaling the arrival of my lunch.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I crossed over to answer the door.

  But my food wasn’t all that was waiting for me. Mac, who happened to be the other divorced father on the team, was leaning against the wall, as if he’d been waiting for me. He had a to-go bag in his hands from one of the restaurants that I’d seen down the block from the hotel. “Mind if I join you?” Mac asked.

  I shrugged and took my tray inside, letting him follow me. After setting my tray on the table by the window, I took a seat and dug in.

  Mac stretched out his long legs on the couch and ate straight out of his bag, without even bothering to take all his food out. “Do you ever think you fucked up getting married and having kids so young?”