“Not for good,” he said. “Just for a year or so.”
She slipped out of bed and began pulling on her clothes. “A year or so,” she echoed.
“I’ll go make some sandwiches,” he said.
“Actually, that’s okay. I’ve got to leave.”
He scowled, cursing his conscience for making him speak up when he did. “What, do you have something against eating with me?”
She kept her focus elsewhere, mostly on her clothes. “No, of course not. I just, I need to take your picture and get it back to Mr. Deerborn for the yearbook. And I have some appointments this afternoon.”
“Russ pays you child support, doesn’t he?” he asked. He didn’t care if the question came out of nowhere; he had to know she’d be okay when he left.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “He…he’s really good about it.”
“Do you mind if I have a talk with him before I go?”
Her delicate eyebrows drew together. “Please don’t. There’s no need. Aside from the incident on Sunday, we’ve been getting by on our own for years. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Finally dressed, he shifted into his chair, and she put her back to him. He suspected it was so that he couldn’t see her expression.
“What about the team?” she asked as she pulled her lightweight sweater over her head.
“Their new coach arrived yesterday and attended practice. His name is Buzz Smith. I think you’ll like him. He’s a great guy, has coached a lot of college ball.”
“So the players know?”
“Not yet. I told everyone Buzz was a consultant. I haven’t decided for sure that I’ll take the job.”
She turned, but a brittle smile had replaced all the warmth and happiness that had shown in her face a few minutes earlier. “Of course you’ll take the job. I want you to take the job. How do you turn away an opportunity like that? It’s perfect for you.”
“It’s not completely about the opportunity, Hannah. It’s more like—” he took a deep breath and shoved a hand through his hair “—I’m trying to figure out where I belong in the world now that…things have changed, you know?” He wished he could explain it better, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her that he’d lost part of himself when the accident injured his back and the rest when he realized he couldn’t overcome it. He certainly didn’t want to make her feel any worse about the accident. “I hope you understand.”
She nodded. “Of course. I—I knew it’d come to this sooner or later. I guess…today…I just let myself believe—” she shrugged and gave a humorless laugh “—that it would happen later.”
“Do you want me to put them off?” he asked.
“No, never. I—I want whatever’s going to make you happy.”
He believed that. Hannah was one of the few people he’d met who didn’t ask for anything. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night, after the game?”
“If I can,” she said with a noncommittal air. “I don’t know what Russ has planned for the boys.”
“Isn’t it his weekend?”
“It is, but I haven’t heard from him since…” she finished with, “since last weekend,” but Gabe knew she’d been about to say, “since he hit me.”
“I wish you’d let me talk to him,” he said because he knew he was going to do it anyway and would prefer to gain her permission. He couldn’t leave without putting Russ on notice that there’d be serious trouble if he ever hurt Hannah again.
She opened the door to the bedroom, and Lazarus rushed inside, acting as though he hadn’t seen Gabe for several weeks. “You have enough to handle,” she said, giving Lazarus a preoccupied pat as she headed past him. “Your first game is tomorrow, you’re heading to New York after that. I’ve already dealt with Russ. Everything is under control.”
He followed her into the living room, where she grabbed her bag and started outside.
“What about the picture?”
“Oh, right.”
She paused long enough to remove her camera. He whistled for Lazarus to calm down and sit still, and she snapped a few shots.
Gabe wasn’t certain what he looked like. He knew his hair had to be rumpled after their lovemaking, but he didn’t really care. Hannah had distanced herself from him again, thrown up that protective shield she’d tried to use on Sunday. But this time he couldn’t blame her.
“I’ll call you later,” he said.
She nodded and managed a brief smile as she put away her camera and hurried out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANNAH PULLED OFF the road as soon as she was out of sight of Gabe’s cabin. She was shaking too badly to continue driving. God, she was a fool. First she let herself get involved with Russ, a man she didn’t love who would never go away. Because of her boys, she couldn’t even allow herself to hope for his disappearance from her life. Then she’d let herself fall in love with a man who was bound from the beginning to leave her.
What was her problem? Was she one of those women who purposefully sabotaged her own happiness?
She glanced at her camera bag, remembered seeing Gabe through her lens, with his hair mussed from her hands and his smile still making her heart thump, and groaned. She’d never be able to look at that picture without thinking of today.
Once again, she had no one to blame but herself. And she had no choice but to live with the consequences. She’d made love with Gabe knowing she could never hold him. He’s a rare, injured bird, remember? The fact that she was responsible for his being in a wheelchair would have torn them apart eventually. She just couldn’t believe that it was already time to let him go.
The pain doesn’t matter. Ignore it. She’d survived Russ; she’d survive Gabe. She had to. She couldn’t let anything beat her because she had two boys who were counting on her to be the mother they’d always known.
Taking a deep, soothing breath, she waited for the truck coming up on her left to pass by, then headed home.
ON FRIDAY MORNING, Kenny was sure he was going to be sick. He almost wished the flu would strike, so he’d have a good excuse to stay home and miss the game. But he knew skipping out wouldn’t solve anything for him in the long run. He had to let his father and Coach Blaine know where he stood, once and for all.