LITMIR.BIZ

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fingers trembled. “Here. You take them.”

      Brian looked at her questioningly then opened the envelope. He studied the contents then looked back at her, a glint in his eyes. Catherine involuntarily pushed away from the desk.

      “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear that you did something to Nathan Conners when he was in here the other day.”

      “What? Why? What’s in there?”

      “Two tickets for very, very good seats. On the ice. And I mean, on the ice. You can’t buy these seats anywhere—they’re saved for special promotions and businesses.”

      Catherine’s throat closed up. She hadn’t expected him to follow through with his promise of tickets, had done her best creative thinking to come up with excuses to tell Matty so he wouldn’t be disappointed when the time came. Now here they were. And not just the tickets, but a jersey, as well. Catherine knew Matty would melt with excitement when he saw them.

      “I—I didn’t think…why don’t you take him, Brian? I can’t really see myself at a hockey game.”

      “Since when? I mean, I know you don’t follow the players or anything, but I’ve seen you watching with Matty. I think you should go. It’ll be a fun night out for both of you, which is something you definitely need.”

      “No, I can’t. I didn’t think he’d send the tickets.” Catherine fought the heat that spread across her face as Brian studied her. He neatly folded the jersey and placed the tickets on top, then crossed his arms and stared at her.

      “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

      “Nothing is going on. I just don’t like the idea of some kid jock sending these things to Matty because he feels guilty.” Catherine inwardly winced at her tone of voice, wondering why she sounded so bitter and cold, knowing she had no reason to feel that way.

      “Wait a minute.” Brian leaned across the desk and grabbed one of her hands. “Number one, Nathan is twenty-nine, only a year younger than you. Hardly a kid. Number two, I can’t see him doing anything out of guilt. Number three, why would he feel guilty in the first place?”

      Catherine pulled her hand free and gently played with the folds of the jersey in front of her. “Because he made some crack about being confined to a wheelchair then happened to see me with Matthew a few minutes later. Matty knew who he was right away and had to drag me over to get his autograph. That’s the only reason he sent this stuff.”

      She squirmed under Brian’s gaze, realized she was still fingering the jersey and quickly sat back. To her own ears, the reply sounded stiff and immature, a complete overreaction, but she didn’t know how to phrase it any differently. There was something about the whole situation—the way he had acted with Matty, the jersey, the tickets…it was too good to be true. She didn’t believe in good fortune, not anymore.

      “As far as the wheelchair comment, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that he wouldn’t go to all this trouble just out of guilt. Listen, Catherine, I don’t know Nathan that well, but he is a nice guy. I think you should just take the tickets and go. Matty would enjoy it, and so would you.”

      Forget about what happened. How could Catherine explain how that single, haphazard comment had biased her against everything else? The careless way he had let it pass renewed the pain she had felt when they had first told her Matty’s leg would need to be amputated. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and sighed, knowing she would never be able to make Brian understand how much that single comment had hurt her.

      “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

      “Good.” There was a brief pause as Brian studied the tickets then thrust them into her hand. “I hope you made up your mind to go, because the note in here says a limo will be picking you and Matty up in two hours.”

      “What?”

      “They’re for tonight’s game so you’d better move. Matty would really be disappointed if he found out he had a chance to go and missed it because you couldn’t move fast enough.”

      Catherine’s mouth opened and closed but she couldn’t form any words. Brian picked up the jersey then gently led her to the office door, chuckling the entire time.

      “Let me know how you enjoy your hockey game, Dr. Wilson.”

      The excited screams nearly drowned out the voice and music that blared over the arena loudspeaker. Catherine looked down at Matty, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as he laughed and cheered with the other 19,000 fans that had come to their feet when the Banners scored a few seconds into the third period, widening their lead with a score of 4 to 1.

      Catherine leaned back in her seat, the magazine in her hand forgotten as she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy the game. She would never admit it to him but she was glad Brian had all but demanded that she attend tonight. The look of excitement on Matty’s face when he put on the jersey and saw the tickets had been enough to bring tears to her eyes. Seeing the sparkle in his eyes when the limo picked them up had removed all but the smallest doubts that she was doing the right thing.

      “Wow! Did you see that, Mom?” Matty finally pulled his attention away from the ice long enough to look over at her. She smiled and reached out a hand to ruffle his short hair, not surprised when he pulled away, his ears pink with embarrassment.

      “Yes, I certainly did.” Catherine curled her hand in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out again and pull Matty to her, knowing he would only become more embarrassed. It was so hard not to smother him, so hard to realize that he was growing up in spite of everything he had been through.

      A loud thud directly in front of them caused her to jump, forcing her gaze from Matty to the glass. Brian had been right about the seats: they were in the very front row, separated from the players on the ice only by the protective glass.

      “Nice hit!”

      The voice came from her left, loud enough to be heard over the cries of the crowd. Catherine’s heart gave a funny little lurch before pumping wildly when she saw Nathan Conners standing in the aisle next to Matty, a tray full of drinks and snacks cradled in his large hands. He was still facing the ice and she had time to notice his profile, full of sharp angles that screamed strength and raw power. Her heart gave another lurch when he finally turned and looked down at her, meeting her gaze with a crooked smile before she could look away.

      “Hey, Matthew. Mind if I join you? I brought some snacks.”

      Catherine’s fists clenched around the magazine as Matty eagerly pointed to the empty seat beside her. She swallowed any comment she might have made, wondering why the hockey player seemed to rub her the wrong way and knowing she couldn’t spoil this night for Matty. Reluctantly burying her pride and anxiety, she rose and moved over one seat before Nathan could maneuver his long legs around the wheelchair.

      He sat between them and immediately turned to her, his crooked smile even wider as he offered her a soda. She looked at the paper cup then shook her head, refusing even as she realized how thirsty she was. Nathan looked at her a second longer, his smile losing some of its wattage before he shrugged and turned his attention to Matty.

      “So what do you think of the game? Are the seats okay?”

      “They’re awesome! Thanks, Mr. Conners. And thanks for this, too. It’s cool.” Matty fingered the jersey that hung on him.

      “Nathan. Remember I said you could call me Nathan.”

      Catherine watched as the two quickly became engaged in animated conversation and she suddenly felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, a ridiculous notion that didn’t sit well with her. The feeling grew in direct proportion with Matty’s excitement, and she again forced herself to stay quiet. No matter what she thought, Matty seemed to truly like the obtuse man and there was no way she would ruin this for him.

      She leaned back and pretended to read the crumpled magazine while studying Nathan from the corner of her

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