Could she trust herself now—trust her belief that she’d just seen genuine awareness in her mom’s eyes? Or was she simply desperate for some sign of healing?
“Thank you.” Her mother reached awkwardly for Marissa’s hand and squeezed it. Her eyes were clear and focused. Almost disconcertingly cognizant. “Thank you, baby.”
Marissa’s knees wobbled. They might have gone out from under her if Isaac and Stacy hadn’t swooped in to steady her. Adrenaline buzzed while the pair bracketed her, Stacy with a huge bouquet of local wildflowers and Isaac with a new CD of a classic seventies band that Brandy had frequently cited in interviews as one of her all-time favorites.
Was this the moment Marissa had been waiting for?
“Ms. Collins?” Stacy ventured. “How do you feel?”
Brandy blinked. Shook her head as if trying to clear it. When she opened her eyes again, that flash of recognition had vanished. The skin between her brows wrinkled as if she were trying to pull back a memory that wouldn’t come.
It was an expression that Marissa had seen on her mother’s face innumerable times over the past few months. The letdown was sharp, leaving her feeling deflated. Numb.
But there’d been a hopeful moment, right? Her throat closed around a lump, her eyes burning.
“It’s okay, Mom.” Marissa rubbed her mom’s arm to comfort her. And herself. “You’re getting better.”
She had to believe that. Her faith in her mother’s ability to heal had driven her through months of caregiving. But it had zapped her emotional reserves more than she’d realized, leaving her little to offer a great guy when he came along.
Brandy stared at her for a long moment, before her eyes moved to Stacy. She smiled and reached for the bouquet of wildflowers while Marissa tried to recover herself.
“One step forward, two steps back,” she whispered to herself, knowing that recovery would take time.
But she would be there beside her through it all, even if had cost her…so much. Would she look back one day and wonder “what if?” Regret that she hadn’t tried to make things work with Kyle? In many ways she already did.
“Marissa?” Isaac set the CD on her mother’s bedside and moved back a step while Stacy told Brandy Collins all about her new video blog. “Can I talk to you?”
It had been sweet of them to visit, although Marissa guessed Stacy wanted to check up on her after the way she’d lit out of Pittsburgh as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. And they were, sort of. They were named Heartache and Regret, and they bit with a vengeance. But even after a week away from Kyle, she didn’t have any answers for the problems that kept her apart from him.
Now, she moved back a step from her mother’s bed, praying that she hadn’t just dreamed the flash of recognition she’d seen in her mom’s eyes after all this time. Maybe the new experimental treatments would help.
“Sure.” Marissa picked up a silver water pitcher she’d filled for the guests, ice clanking against the sides. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“That’d be great.” Isaac took a glass and waited for her to fill her own. He looked around the dining room filled with her mother’s things. “You must have worked hard to convert this space to accommodate your mom.”
She smiled at the guitars hanging on the walls. The photographs filling every free space.
“If you ever want me to film the room for you and digitize it, we could project the surroundings for her somewhere else, so you could move her anywhere you wanted.”
“Excuse me?” She knew she was sensitive about her mom and the choices she’d made about her mother’s care, so she tried not to let the comment ruffle her feathers.
Kyle had suggested something similar and she hadn’t been ready to consider it. Now, Isaac sipped his water and gestured to the bank of windows overlooking the spring gardens.
“I’m in the graphics business. And we’re improving 3-D technology and multimedia mapping daily, ensuring people don’t have to wear glasses to enjoy a more fully developed environment. I could recreate the look of this room somewhere else if that would prove helpful to you. You know, if you think your mother would be more comfortable in a real bedroom, for example, instead of the dining room. I could film her current surroundings and set up a three-dimensional image—”
“Really?” She frowned even though she could immediately perceive the benefit of such a plan. She hadn’t wanted to sell the house because the doctors said familiar surroundings might anchor her mother. But it sure tied her hands when it came to paying for the expensive in-home care visits from any number of medical professionals.
“Easily. The new technology I have coming out is top secret until I get it to market, but I could make it available to you. It would look extremely convincing.” Isaac reached for the CD he’d brought and popped it in a player near the water pitcher. “I can come back with some equipment today, if you want.”
Marissa’s chest tightened again. It was kind of Stacy and Isaac to come in the first place. Visitor traffic had died off months ago. But it was even more kind of Isaac to offer his expertise and a tool to aid in her mother’s recovery.
She’d resisted moving her mom to a rehab facility, where patients were limited on how much they could bring. There’d be no room for her prized possessions. But if at least some of the environment was virtual, she wouldn’t have to hang priceless guitars on the walls of a medical institution. Her mother could have access to more immediate care while still benefiting from the comfort of familiar surroundings, surroundings that could help bring back lost memories and maintain a connection with her past.
If Marissa had known about this before, might she have been less inclined to push Kyle away? Certainly it would have opened up some more options for traveling. But then, maybe she’d allowed herself to be scared off from a relationship too easily. She’d been afraid of the knowledge that she’d loved him, for one thing. While she’d made peace with living in her mother’s shadow long ago, she hadn’t necessarily wanted to reciprocate that dynamic with Kyle. He was a superstar. A strong, talented, amazing man.
And instead of being a strong woman for him, she’d scurried away like a twit, too scared to embrace the possibility of a future for fear she’d end up hurt.
If her mom recovered right now, she’d tell Marissa to stop being a coward. Her eyes went to the other side of the room where her mom lay. She wondered what other advice her mother might give.
Don’t you dare hide behind me, young lady!
The words, so vivid in Marissa’s mind, and yet sounding distinctly like Brandy Collins when she was all fired up, set Marissa back on her heels. Where had that idea come from? By the look of her mom nodding vaguely at something Stacy was saying, Marissa knew Brandy hadn’t uttered them.
They were probably a truth she’d known deep in her heart all along—that she occasionally took shelter from her own life in the shadow of her mom’s, complicit in the helper role she’d always gravitated toward. She couldn’t use her mother’s injury as a reason not to take chances. Maybe she needed to take more responsibility for carving out the kind of life she wanted to have with Kyle instead of waiting for the ideal situation.
Wouldn’t she rather have an ideal man?
Tears threatened, and she didn’t think she could hold them back.
“Uh—Stacy?” Isaac called, apparently seeing the imminent waterworks. “You’d better come here.”
“It’s nothing,” Marissa insisted, not wanting the whole room to watch her weep. But her voice came out squeaky, advertising her emotions all too well.
She’d watched Kyle’s games on TV since she’d left Pittsburgh. He’d played well for an average player, but she knew it wasn’t his top form. Guilt had pinched her, as she knew he was feeling her loss as much as she was missing him. But not until today had she realized how little effort she’d made to work things out with him. Isaac had offered her a small piece of the puzzle—a way to start compromising with Kyle toward a more workable relationship.
But recognizing how emotionally depleted she’d been—running on empty to try to hold her life and her mom’s together—also made a big impact. It hadn’t occurred to her that she wasn’t making the best decisions now, not until she’d felt the deep disappointment after seeing Brandy look at her with recognition for only those few precious moments.
Footsteps clicking across the hardwood alerted her to Stacy joining them.
“Holy moly!” She picked up her pace when she saw Marissa and then frowned at Isaac. “I left you alone for two minutes and you made her cry?” She put an arm around Marissa. “Isaac, you should bring the dogs in from the kitchen. Tink and Belle will cheer her up.”
“That’s okay,” Marissa protested, smiling. “I’m fine. Isaac gave me a great idea. And helped me realize I made a big mistake with Kyle.”
14
MARISSA COLLINS WAS IN
the market for a man, a tall, dark and gorgeous man. In fact, she’d set her sights on Philadelphia’s most wanted eligible bachelor.
And this time, she planned to keep the prize catch for herself.
She wove through the partygoers on the patio of a historic Philadelphia hotel, a few patio heaters employed to ward off the chill lingering in the April air. But this was a hockey-going crowd, come to celebrate the city’s division champs, so they didn’t mind a little bite to the breeze. Marissa wore a vintage smoking jacket over her wide-legged trousers, channeling her inner Katherine Hepburn. She could use a little of that Hepburn grit tonight.
In the pocket of her jacket, her cell phone vibrated against her thigh. She never would have heard it, since a DJ played rock-and-roll classics well loved by the locals. She paused by a low brick wall that wrapped around a seating area to retrieve the call. No, the text.
Have u seen him yet?
Stacy must be trolling the crowd, too, both of them in search of Kyle. And if Stacy had attended the event, Isaac must be here, too, as the two of them had been charmingly inseparable ever since they’d met. Stacy had convinced Isaac to help with the filming and editing of
Diva No More
—the visual component was his area of expertise with his graphics background. She’d insisted he needed more fun and balance in his life after the years of nonstop work on honing his graphics chip. Now the video blog had a look that was polished and edgy at the same time, with supporting parts shot in black and white, edited into Stacy’s irrepressible narrative.
In turn, Isaac had convinced Stacy to film an upcoming edition with a reunion between her and her father, a moment Phil Goodwell was apparently excited about since he grudgingly approved of Isaac Reynolds. He might not have Kyle’s superstar athlete appeal or the Murphy family connections, but Isaac’s business clout was undeniable, and greedy Goodwell would surely find a way to make the most of it. Mostly, Marissa was just happy that Isaac would help Stacy find a way to keep a relationship with her dad while maintaining a few barriers, too. And she liked the idea that Goodwell wouldn’t try anything petty like withholding funds from Kyle’s Full Strength Hockey Camp now that he understood he couldn’t dictate Stacy’s life.
Compatibility counseling for that pair was becoming a moot point in Marissa’s opinion, but Isaac still planned to give the session to Stacy for a birthday gift next month—right after the spa day he’d booked for her. Because no matter how much independence Stacy carved out for herself, she would always have a diva side. Marissa couldn’t help but admire how Stacy had found a niche for herself, an arena where she thrived.
Maybe Marissa could do the same—be there for her mother, but protect a part of her life that was all her own.
Nada
, she texted back, peering around the milling crowd made up mostly of season ticket holders but also a few random fans who’d won local contests for the chance to attend the high-end soiree. Proceeds would benefit a Phantoms’ charity.
Marissa was nervous about seeing him, even though she had rehearsed what she’d say. She was like a junior-high girl waiting to ask a boy to dance. And damn it, where had her inner Katherine Hepburn gone?
Have you checked the bar?
Marissa pocketed the phone, thinking that would be the coincidence of all coincidences. The night already felt like déjà vu, between the high-end party and the hockey team strengthening community ties with an outreach event. It felt like the night they’d met. The night she’d tried to land Kyle for another woman and wound up falling for him herself.
No way would he be working the bar again.
Unless…did Stacy know something she didn’t?
Spinning toward the nearest outdoor counter serving drinks, Marissa saw a young woman with an apron and a ponytail pouring red wine from a decanter. No dice. So, turning in the other direction, she trekked through a few groups of fans and Phantoms’ corporate sponsors to find another bar. Night had fallen, though, and despite the lanterns burning around the courtyard garden, she couldn’t see who was serving the drinks.
Whoever it was, he had quite a crowd. She guessed that meant either a juggling bartender was putting on a show with the bottles, or a player had taken over the post to mingle with his admirers.
Butterflies took flight in her belly, a fluttery feeling that made her breathe faster. It had to be him.
“Excuse me.” She tried to pass a hulking guy twice her size, but her words didn’t carry high enough to the giant’s ears over the doo-wop song playing. “Excuse me,” she tried again.
When the giant turned, she recognized Kyle’s foster bother, Axel Rankin, from the game she’d seen in Pittsburgh. And, of course, the games she’d watched at home on her TV when the Phantoms played in Tampa Bay and Ottawa. Marissa was reading up on hockey in her spare time and now understood the positions better.
“Hello, Axel,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Marissa Collins, Kyle’s…friend.”
The big guy was already shaking her hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he returned politely, keeping her hand and tugging her closer to guide her through the crowd. “Let me get you a drink. The crowd is starting to really pile in.”
“Um…” She noticed Axel didn’t have any trouble bypassing the guests circling the bar. “Okay.”
Axel got pats on the back and cheers wherever he went. People raised their glasses and wished him good luck in the play-offs.
“Congratulations on making it to the play-offs.” She turned toward his ear and arched up on her toes to say it, hoping the message made it a foot above her head. “You’re the man of the hour.”
“Yeah, me and twenty-two other guys. Thanks.” He shouldered by another player who was next in line and deposited Marissa behind him.
Where she couldn’t see a thing thanks to another massive set of shoulders. Damn it. Was Kyle really up there?
She turned to apologize to whoever she’d cut off in the line and found Stacy Goodwell grinning ear to ear.
“Hi.” She gave a little wave, but didn’t hug Marissa right away. Which seemed strange until Marissa realized she was on camera. “Act natural,” Stacy stage-whispered.
Isaac stood beside the line, filming them with a small, handheld camera.
“What’s going on?” Marissa asked, stepping outside the line to try to see around the player in front of her.
Too bad Axel was right there crowding in front of her. Honestly, was this some kind of conspiracy? She adjusted her glasses on her nose and tried not to let them rattle her. Pivoting to Stacy and Isaac, she prepared to squeeze the answers out of her friends when…
“Can I help you?”
The familiar baritone rumbled, warm and engaging. Just the way it had the first time she’d heard Kyle’s voice. The crowd had magically thinned between her and the bar. Axel Rankin and the player who’d been blocking her view had both disappeared. She now stood face-to-face with the man she loved. The man who’d rendered her absolutely speechless the first time she’d looked at him.
He watched her now, green eyes alert as if he was studying an opponent he needed to watch carefully. The gash on his jaw remained red, but the stitches were gone and the swelling had diminished.
“Seltzer over ice,” she blurted, forgetting all about the words she’d rehearsed. The practical, well-reasoned plan for why they could still make this work.
“Seltzer on the rocks coming up.” He took his time getting out the bottle, ignoring the line behind her.
Actually, Axel came to the rescue then, entering the spot behind the bar next to Kyle and calling for the next in line.
Kyle and Marissa shifted down to the end of the serving station while he poured her drink. Beside her, Marissa heard Stacy order a wine spritzer as she chatted with Isaac, so Marissa guessed that her awkward apology to Kyle wouldn’t end up on a new edition of
Diva No More,
thank goodness.
“How have you been?” she asked Kyle while he turned to put the ice in the glass.
“My stats are down but the rest of the team is playing well. Ax has had a goal in each of the last two games now that he’s not feeding me the puck all the time. I’m happy for him.” He passed Axel a bottle of vodka from underneath the counter, apparently tuned in to whatever the next patron had requested.
“I’m sorry if I had anything to do with… That is, I’m sorry for what happened in Pittsburgh.” She twisted the chain on her purse, hoping she would have the chance to explain that she’d been emotionally burned out and not thinking clearly.
What if he shut her down without hearing her out? What if he’d already moved on? The thought made her stomach knot, the butterfly fluttering turning to cold dread.
“I was having a lot of fun until you bailed out on me.” He handed her the seltzer in a champagne flute, the bubbles still fizzing high above the rim.
He took his time pouring a matching glass—for him?—making her wonder if he might join her for a drink. Heaven knew, Axel looked plenty capable of taking over the bartending duties as he flirted with an elderly lady, putting extra cherries in her Coke.
“I think I might have had a panic attack,” she admitted. “Or maybe I was just overwrought seeing you get hurt. And while I don’t want to make excuses—” she moved her purse off the bar after another woman put her elbow on it “—I suspect the stress from losing the matchmaking gig and trying to find a way to help my mom had been eating away at me for a while. So I panicked with you.”
“It probably wouldn’t have been healthy to be with a guy who made you worry so much.” He dropped a couple of ice cubes in his own drink.
She swallowed hard, thinking this wasn’t going well at all.
“You don’t.” She reached over the bar, her hand landing on his forearm. “I wouldn’t. That is, you’re not the one who causes all the stress. I realized that taking care of my mom has taken a toll, but I’m working with Isaac to—”
“Who the hell is Isaac?” He straightened and she recognized the posture from the moment he’d thrown off his gloves that night on the ice in Pittsburgh.
Could he be jealous? A wishful part of her heart hoped it was so.
“He designs graphics chips. And he’s the new boyfriend of my former client. The client responsible for us meeting, by the way. She’s turned a new leaf and left her father’s controlling ways behind.” Marissa was so proud of Stacy, and so grateful to her, too. “Stacy Goodwell has been instrumental in helping Isaac—the chip maker—film my mother’s house for a new 3-D visual environment that will make it easier for me to move her to a safer, staffed facility.”
The decision had been difficult in spite of the new technology Isaac had offered. But after discussing it with Brandy’s doctors and weighing the benefits of both options, they’d all agreed the change might be beneficial to Brandy’s recovery.
Kyle lifted his brows.
“Do you want to have a seat?” He gestured to a row of tables tucked against the historic hotel some distance from the band and the mayhem. Only two of the four were taken; the rest of the crowd was on their feet.
“I’d love that,” she admitted, grateful to have some time alone with him. Well, alone amidst five hundred other people.
“You’re moving your mom?” He carried both their glasses, bending his head in her direction so he could hear her response.
The intimacy of the gesture warmed her. Made her feel like part of a couple again.
“I realized, with the help of friends, that I may have been using the excuse of taking care of her to hide from taking chances.” She’d done a lot of soul-searching during a long, hard week. “And not just since the accident. Since always. She’s never demanded anything from me. I just gravitate toward the helper roles. I’m good at them.”
Reaching a wrought-iron table near a patio heater that warmed a small ring of air around them, Kyle pulled a chair out for her.
While she took a seat, he settled their glasses on the table and stole a candle from a nearby empty table to put on theirs, casting them in a golden glow.
“You know, I understand if you want to achieve dreams of your own and explore other career options. But I also know there’s nothing wrong with being there for your friends and your mom. Your clients. Helping people find love and happiness is important. Something to be proud of.”
His words touched her.
“I guess I don’t think about it like that, but I should.”
“Damn right you should. Bringing two people together…that’s a whole hell of a lot more special than hoisting the Stanley Cup. But we all have to play to our own strengths, right?”
A lump formed in her throat and she had to bite her lip before she could speak.
“Thank you.” She reached for his hand across the table, needing to touch him to make her case. “Kyle, I know I have a habit of putting up barriers with everything from my glasses and my matchmaking questionnaires to fake wedding bands and excuses for how a relationship could never work. But they are all total B.S., and I know that now.”
She took a deep breath, needing to continue before she lost the head of steam.
“I actually… I’m falling for you.” The magnitude of the gamble made her head feel as fuzzy as the seltzer still fizzing away in the glass beside her. “I realized it after you got hit that night in Pittsburgh, and that was half the reason I was scared and babbling—”