21. The Game
Chapter 21
The Game
The morning dawned bright and cold. Really cold. Perfect hockey weather. First, though, Neve had a dog to check on and a cat to give away.
As she loaded Mr. Whiskers into her Tahoe, she had the weirdest sensation of someone watching her. She’d had the same creepy feeling several times over the past week—sometimes here at home, sometimes at the clinic. As she’d done then, she took her time looking around. Also like before, she saw nothing and no one. The surroundings were eerily quiet, devoid of noise or the tiniest ruffle of wind. Neve’s house sat back from the road, and while dwellings flanked hers on either side, they were vacation homes rarely occupied during the cold months. They definitely weren’t occupied now, so it wasn’t a neighbor sending a hairy eyeball her way.
She shook off the unsettling feeling and left for the clinic, arriving a half hour before her appointment with the dog’s owner. The woman was already waiting for her with an anxiousness that showed itself in her worried babble.
Neve got her settled in the reception area while she stowed Mr. Whiskers in her office and went to take care of the dog—fingers crossed he was ready for his owner. Relief flooded her when he gave her a thumping tail wag. He had come through the night with flying colors, and she prepared him to go home.
When Neve returned to the waiting area with the leashed dog fitted with a cone, another woman sat there with the first client. The two were chatting, though they didn’t seem to know one another. Neve caught a snippet. The second woman was quizzing the first one about Neve. Oddly, none of it was about her clinic. Only Neve. Personally. Neve suspected she wasn’t supposed to overhear because as soon as she entered the room, the new visitor—the one doing the grilling—clammed up and stared at her with wide eyes. Guilty eyes.
While the owner lavished her pooch with pets and coos of adoration, Neve asked the second woman what she could do for her.
“I’m here to see the cat.”
Crap, this woman was an hour early! Neve glanced at the clock to make sure she hadn’t mixed up her times. “I’m not quite ready for you yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”
The woman fastened her hawk-eyed gaze on Neve while Neve walked the dog’s owner through after-surgery care, handed over meds, and set up a follow-up appointment.
“Now if you notice anything off or he seems especially uncomfortable or he runs a fever, you give me a call. Here’s my card with my private cell number.”
The client accepted the card and gushed, “Thanks again, so much, I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I live halfway between here and Ridgway, but I don’t trust the vet there, that Dr. Bunting. She’s snooty as heck, and worse, she doesn’t seem to have a clue what she’s doing.” Though it was one more knock against Dr. Lark Bunting, Neve took the comment in stride. Vets were like friends or lovers: They weren’t always compatible .
Meanwhile, the woman placed her hand over her heart and continued. “I’m so glad you were available. And please thank your husband for me too. He was quick to get my poor puppy inside but so gentle in the way he handled him, and then he sat with me and made sure I was calm enough to drive home. I would have fallen to pieces if he hadn’t been here. You are both godsends.”
Neve was about to correct the woman on her marital status when Woman Number Two leaned forward with aggressive interest. Something about her demeanor tickled Neve’s spidey-senses. Shelving it for now, and she patted the client’s forearm and wished her and her dog well.
With the client out of the clinic, Neve turned her focus to the cat woman. “If you’ll give me a sec, I’ll get the cat. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready for you; I expected you a little later.” Neve got it. People who loved their pets didn’t like being separated from them.
The woman let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that. I had a long way to drive, and I guess I overestimated the amount of time it would take to get here.”
“It’s always nice when the weather cooperates. Where did you come from?”
She flapped a hand. “The Western Slope.”
Another oddity. Most people shared the exact town, or at least the county. “I’m sure you’re excited to see him and get going before Mother Nature decides to dump more snow. I’ll get him.” Neve had a blow to soften first. “I need to give you a heads-up, though. He went through quite a trial, so if he is yours, he might not look the same as he did last time you saw him. I can assure you he’s been well cared for, and he’s on the mend.”
“Your husband sounds like a great guy.”
Neve had been in mid-pivot toward her office, and she spun back around to face the woman, who had risen to her feet. She was about Neve’s height, squared off in a way that hinted at fitness, and she had straight, shoulder-length dirty-blond hair and dark eyes. Brown or hazel, Neve couldn’t tell, but an inner voice warned her off getting any closer to find out. “Yes, he is.”
Normal people in a similar situation would have concentrated on the cat. What injuries did he suffer? What kind of surgeries had he undergone? What was his long-term prognosis ?
But this woman did not behave like a “normal” pet owner. Her next question carried a fake casualness to it. “Been married long?”
“A while.” Was a week and two days “a while”? And did a fake marriage even qualify? Probably not, but Neve could ponder those questions at a different time. This woman was knocking Neve off balance, and she wanted to hurry her out.
“From reading about your clinic online, I noticed you grew up here. Is your husband a local too?” The woman had followed her into the hallway.
What the hell? Why this keen interest in Reece? “I’m not sure that’s … Let me get the cat. You must be eager to find out if he’s yours. In the meantime, if you’d stay in the waiting room … Only staff is allowed back here.”
“Sorry. I must sound nosy. It’s just that I know some of the people from Fall River, and I hadn’t met you, but I wondered if I knew him.”
Neve narrowed her eyes. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“You know, I was so excited to learn Mr. W might have a home to go to that I totally skipped one very important step. I need your name, address, and phone number.” Neve reached for a pad of paper and a pen, which she thrust at the peculiar woman.
“To look at a cat?” The woman accepted both but didn’t bother doing anything with them. “And who’s Mr. W?”
“We didn’t know what else to call the kitty, so we gave him a placeholder name. Mr. W is short for Mr. Whiskers.”
“By ‘we,’ do you mean you and your husband?” The woman’s grip tightened on the pen.
“No, my lab tech and I. Look, I’m getting a strange vibe here that’s got nothing to do with trying to find your lost cat. Want to tell me what this is really about?” Neve clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.
The woman’s gaze dipped to Neve’s hands, and her body language did a one-eighty. Her shoulders, so square and straight, dropped, and she puffed out a breath. She handed the paper and pen back. “My name is Chelsea Selkirk. I am—I was Reece Hunnicutt’s incident commander, and I’ve been trying to get in touch with him without any luck.”
Clutching the pen and paper, Neve cinched her arms across her chest. “This is kind of a strange way to go about finding him, don’t you think? You answer a posting about a stray cat and pump me for answers about Reece? Not to mention your questions about me. That’s beyond intrusive, and frankly a little creepy.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry. I just … Reece doesn’t want to talk to me, and I thought if I approached someone else … I heard a rumor that you married him recently.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s a small community. Word gets around.”
“True enough, but I believe you’re leaving something out … like your harassing phone call when he gave you the news.” Neve might have been overstepping, but she was vibrating with anger, and this woman was more out of line than Fall River’s nineteenth-century brick walls.
Venom filled Chelsea’s eyes. “Why are you asking me if you already know? And he called me !”
This woman was delusional. Reece might be many things Neve found annoying—okay, only a few things … maybe—but he hadn’t lied about telling Chelsea what had happened in Vegas. Of that, Neve was certain.
Neve’s mind took a quick little detour. If Chelsea was confronting Neve about the wedding, who else had she told? Now two people outside their circle knew, and plenty of others suspected. How soon before the entire town—heck, the entire county—knew their little secret? Rumors had a way of catching fire and spreading like a summer blaze through dry prairie grasses.
How soon before Reece’s parents found out?
Neve jumped back on track. “Do you even have a missing cat?”
“I’m not here for the cat,” Chelsea admitted.
“Have you been stalking me?” Was Chelsea the reason Neve had been swarmed by heebie-jeebies this past week?
“What? Absolutely not! This is the first time I’ve set foot in Fall River in months.”
Chelsea’s over-the-top indignation was the last straw. If anyone had a right to pull the indignant card, it was Neve. Pressing her lips together to hold her anger inside, she stepped around Chelsea and opened the front door. “I think it’s time to call an end to your ‘mission,’ or whatever the hell you want to call your sneaky little snoopfest. I’d like you to leave.”
Chelsea huffed and met her at the door. “Could you give Reece a message for me? ”
Neve waved the hand still clutching the pen and paper. “Write it down, and if I see him, I’ll pass it along. Then get the hell out.”
Chelsea went ramrod straight, as though preparing for a fight. A twist of anger colored her features a dusky red.
“Hey, Neve. Saw your Tahoe and thought I’d let you know I can’t make the game.”
Both women looked out the door in time to see Shane’s eyes and mouth crease with confusion.
“Chelsea?” he sputtered.
“She’s poking her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Neve provided. “But she was just leaving.” She perched her fist on her hip. “Good day, Ms. Selkirk. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but I’d be lying.”
Shane ate up the distance to the clinic door and looked down at Chelsea. “Hey, Chelsea. What are you doing here? Everything okay?”
Stepping around him without a word, Reece’s ex hurried to the sidewalk. Shane shot Neve a look that was both apologetic and confounded before trailing after Chelsea Selkirk.
Neve sent him a wave that said, “Good luck, big guy.” Whether he understood or not, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. She was focused on a text that had just chimed on her phone.
Reece: What happened with Mr. W?
Neve: Didn’t pan out. Bringing him home.
Chelsea was a jerk. She’d used the poor cat to get at Reece. How could he have been involved with someone like that? Neve watched as Chelsea climbed into her pickup and drove off. Hands on his hips, Shane stood on the sidewalk, his confused gaze following her truck. He turned toward Neve. She so did not want to engage in a discussion with him right now.
She held up a thumb. “Got it. You’re not coming to the game.” He took a step toward her, mouth open and ready to spout whatever questions were bouncing around in his brain. “I’ve got a sick animal to get back to. I’ll talk to you later.”
His radio squawked—thank God—and he waved at her before trotting back to his SUV. She retreated to her building, puffing out a relieved lungful of air.
Dodged that bullet.
Suddenly, the notion of taking her husband down on the ice took flight on wings of fury .
The cold pricked at her eyes, her nose, and she looked up at a gray ceiling of clouds that seemed to be made of ice crystals. The impact from two bodies colliding on the rink was going to feel like running into a brick wall at thirty miles an hour.
Perfect!
Reece Hunnicutt wouldn’t know what hit him.
Neve paused cinching her breezers long enough to rub her hands together with glee. Her blood fizzed with excitement, possibly fueled by the coffee she’d been consuming after a mostly sleepless night. Her nerves were jumpy, her body supercharged. She couldn’t wait to blow off some steam.
The rules in their rec league dictated no checking, but Neve wouldn’t follow that rule today. Anger over being confronted by Reece’s ex-whatever continued on a slow boil inside her, and she was looking forward to venting that frustration. Maybe she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. She’d been dreaming of gunning for one particular player and leaving him sprawled out on the ice. One good hit, and the difference in their sizes wouldn’t matter.
“Ready?” said player called from the kitchen’s back door.
Oh, you bet I am!
“Coming.” Neve finished her lacing and hopped to her booted feet. Pearl whined and gave her a look that said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” she hissed at the dog. “Don’t worry. He’s too big a lunk to really get hurt, but he’ll probably get a nice bruise out of it. And I’ll feel so much better. Let’s not forget this is all about me.” She snickered at her own evil joke.
Reece cocked an eyebrow as Neve sailed past him. “What did you say?”
“Just talking to the dog.”
They arrived at the rink five minutes later. The ridiculous amount of gear they had to haul made walking there from Neve’s house completely impractical, though the exercise might have bled off some of her anger. Reece had started his truck minutes before, so the short ride was a warm one. Why was he so damn thoughtful all the time? It kind of pissed her off, adding fuel to her fire.
The game began with the usual warm-ups while both sides chirped each other. Neve reserved her trash-talking for her “husband,” but Reece seemed oblivious that he was in her crosshairs. Good . He wouldn’t suspect a thing, and she needed that element of surprise if she was going to take him down.
Halfway through the second period, the Margaritas were up by one goal. They’d been holding their own against the Boys all game long, and the momentum was solidly on their side. Reece was heading up ice with the puck, and Neve saw her chance. She raced at him, slid in front of him, and stole the puck off his stick. Fired it at the net. It squirted wide.
Damn it!
Charlie corralled it and saucered it to Micky, who was blocked by Amy. Charlie dished it off to Reece, whose head was down. Now! Neve charged her target, leaving the ice to deliver the hit, packing every ounce of frustration behind it. Instead of leveling him, though, she bounced off.
Two things happened in a split second: She struck her head on the metal goal post and flew forward, landing on her face.
Jolting pain spiderwebbed from her chin to her cheekbones.
She saw stars as she slumped to the ice, vaguely registering Joy’s shriek. “What did you do to her?”
Reece felt more than saw Neve go flying. As he was spinning to see what happened, Joy cried from the sidelines, “What did you do to her?”
“He didn’t do a damn thing,” he heard Charlie yell back from where he stood on the ice. “She took a run at him, fell down, and hit her chin.”
As soon as Reece had Neve in his sights, his already-elevated pulse skyrocketed with a spike of fear. He dropped his stick and slid on his knees toward her crumpled form. One of her teammates was bent over her, and he barked at the woman, “Don’t touch her!”
She let out a little cry of surprise and glided backward, pulling other Margaritas with her .
“Need to be careful with head injuries,” he muttered after her in a half-assed apology.
Reece’s gloves and helmet were off in an instant, and Neve rolled to her back, blood bathing her chin and throat. He held the sides of her head, careful not to jostle it. “Neve!”
Her eyes rolled up in their sockets.
He leaned over and listened. Her breathing was ragged, coming in truncated little pants, and a quiet sort of keening escaped her mouth—like a balloon being squeezed. He rose up on his knees. The color had drained from her face, and he quelled his growing panic. That pesky inner voice told him he was too close, that he was the wrong guy to be tending to her. But he wasn’t about to relinquish her care to anyone else.
“Neve! Can you hear me?”
When she didn’t respond, he looked up at the closest bystander: Charlie. His brother crouched down on her other side, and Reece ordered him to keep her head level while he yanked off his jersey, balled it up, and slid it under her head, placing a barrier between her and the ice. Both teams clustered around, and murmurs of “What happened?” and “Is she okay?” passed between them. Reece shut them out, his focus tunneling down to only Neve. Her limbs were akimbo, and he carefully straightened them.
Heart jolting in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins, he leaned his ear down to her slack mouth. “Neve. Sweetheart, talk to me. Tell me you’re all right.”
She let out a little groan, and when he looked into her eyes again, they were open. Glassy slits, but they seemed to follow him. His heart soared, and he choked out a laugh.
“Hey, welcome back, toughie.”
“My face,” she moaned and tried to raise her head, but he held it in place.
“No kidding, your face. What the hell were you doing? I outweigh you by at least seventy pounds.” He checked for loose teeth, relieved when they seemed solid.
“Uh, no offense, bro, but maybe you can save the lecture for later?” Charlie suggested.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Reece grumbled. Part of him was glad Charlie was there to keep him in check, but another part of him was mad at himself for letting his emotions overrun him. He knew better than that. He was trained better than that. His SAR persona came on board, and he ordered Charlie to get his kit from his truck.
While Charlie loped away, Reece ran through some field tests to make sure Neve’s neck was okay. Then he inspected the gash on her chin. The wound wasn’t as bad as the blood made it look, but he was more worried about a concussion. She hadn’t lost consciousness for long, but she had lost it. He instructed Charlie to apply gauze while he ripped a length of tape and gingerly secured it to her jaw. She didn’t flinch. She was a trooper, he’d give her that, even if her attempted check on him had been a dumb move. Really dumb.
Charlie dropped his voice so only Reece could hear. “Dude, you need me to take over? Your hands are shaking, man.”
Reece had this weird caveman energy going on and didn’t know what to do with it.
“No. I got this. I’ll take her home and get her chin cleaned up so I can tell if she needs stitches.”
“I can stitch myself,” little Miss Badass announced. She gave Reece’s arm a weak shove.
“Yeah? And just how are you going to do that, sweetheart?”
She canted her head and winced. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’? That’s twice now.”
Oops. “Uh, slip of the tongue. I call all my rescues ‘sweetheart.’”
Charlie guffawed.
Reece fired off a shut-the-fuck-up glare at his brother. He was borderline insane right now without a clue as to the reason, but his over-testosteroned brain registered that Charlie was right. Reece never used terms of endearment with anyone, including the people he rescued, nor did he get all balled up with barbed wire inside. Usually, he was a master at keeping his distance. But not with Neve. He was way too close to this, but he’d be damned if he would let anyone else take care of her.
“What else can I do?” Charlie offered.
“Bring my gear to the truck.” With one arm around Neve’s back and the other tucked under her knees, Reece scooped her up off the ice and cradled her close to his body, sharing his warmth as he made his way back to the truck.
She flailed in his arms. “I can walk.”
“Maybe. ”
“Put me down!”
“Nope.”
“I’m too heavy,” she protested.
“Light as a feather, and stop arguing.” He placed his patient in the front seat after Joy, who had apparently tagged along, opened the door for them.
“You’d better take care of her,” his sister-in-law warned.
As if! He had no intention of doing otherwise. Ignoring Joy, he carefully strapped and buckled Neve in. He stared into her eyes, relieved that they had returned to their normal denim blue. “How’s your head feeling there, Spicy Margarita?”
“Hurts.”
“No surprise. Good thing it’s so hard.”
She stuck out her tongue, and he chuckled as he rounded his hood. The smile he sent Charlie and Joy was a full cheek pull. “She’s going to be fine.”
Charlie clapped. “Thank fuck.”
“Amen to that,” Joy agreed.
Reece wasn’t so sure about himself, though. Deep down, he was aware that his heart had crossed an earth-splitting line, baring itself to him and everyone at the rink. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with the revelation. He also wasn’t sure he’d be able to turn it back.