Page 14 of Cross-Checked

“You promised you’d slow down once the trade deadline passed,” he reminds me, needlessly. I’m a workaholic, and he knows that will never change. But taking care of each other is just what we do.

When I don’t reply, he says, “Okay. Well, Nic and I are going to head out early because she has a big test this week, so she’s going to the library all day.”

“How long is this summer class she’s taking?”

“Six weeks.”

I let out a low whistle. “That must be intense.” Nicole is a nursing major, and she’s taking one class this summer while also doing an internship in the NICU at the children’s hospital.

“It keeps her pretty busy.” He doesn’t sound resentful, just like he wishes he could have more time with her.

“What are you doing today?” I ask. “You’re not working until tonight, right?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take care of some grocery shopping and errands so Nic can study in peace.”

“She hit the lottery with you. You know that, right?”

He winks at me. “You trained me well.”

In truth, he hit the lottery with her too. Nicole is not only naturally beautiful inside and out, she’s also low maintenance, incredibly smart, and unequivocally kind. She thinks my brother walks on water, which, after the upbringing we both had, is exactly the kind of partner he deserves. He treats her like a queen, and she responds in kind. It’s the partnership every woman wants, and they found it in their early twenties. I’m thrilled for them, even while I’m a bit jealous that I’ve never had that.

“Let’s do dinner one night this week,” I say, moving my suitcase in front of me. “I’ll cook.”

“Ugh...” The hesitation comes through loud and clear.

“I found a new recipe I want to try.”

“Do you remember what happened last time you cooked for us?” he asks, slightly cringing.

I roll my eyes. “It was a tiny fire. Stop acting like I burned the place down.” When I overheated the oil and it caught on fire in the pan, I froze for a second while trying to figure out what to do. My brother raced in and threw the lid on it, and the fire died out in seconds.

“How about you get the ingredients and I’ll cook,” he suggests.

“You don’t even know what I want to make.”

“So send me the recipe. We can make it together if you want. It’s never too late for you to learn,” he says, but his voice betrays him. He sounds doubtful, like he knows you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

Our seventeen-year age difference has never felt greater.

“Fine,” I say. “How’s Wednesday night?”

“I think we’re free,” he says, as I start heading across my living room toward the hallway to the bedrooms. “I’ll check with Nic and let you know.”

“Alright,” I say. “Goodnight. Or . . . whatever time of day it is.”

In my room, I fall into my bed fully clothed. The guys change into sweats or more comfortable clothing once we’re on the plane, but I never feel comfortable getting that casual around them. Luckily, I’ve managed to find nice-looking dress clothes that are comfortable, too. And as I snuggle into my pillow and pull the blanket that lays at the foot of my bed over me, I’m so tired that changing into pajamas never even crosses my mind.

Unfortunately, thoughts of McCabe climbing into his bed across the hall, trying to get a few more hours of sleep before his baby wakes up, permeate my thoughts and keep me awake.

What the hell is happening?

I haven’t spent this much time thinking about McCabe since he punched my now ex-husband eight seasons ago, dislocating his jaw and forcing me to trade him.

And you’re not going to start thinking about him now, damn it.

But telling myself that and actually doing it are two different things. It seems I can’t stop my mind from racing through all the possibilities of how things could have gone between us in the past. And try as I might, I can’t come up with a single scenario that doesn’t end with him hating me.

Chapter Seven

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