Breaking Skin (16 page)

T
he morning sun streams through the curtains, flooding the family room in golden light. I sit up on the couch and stretch, no longer needing a moment to remember where I am the way I have the past few mornings because I know I’m in Renee’s house. I’ve been living here for nearly a week, and there’s something to be said for taking a vacation from my own life.

My days in San Francisco feel far away. The fact that I’m not there working for what I want probably means that I’m losing it, but if I think about everything slowly slipping away while I’m here, I’ll go crazy. So I don’t think about it. I live in the moment and pretend I pressed a pause button. When I get back, I can pick up right where I left off.

The problem is, I know better.

I’ve stretched this family emergency excuse as far as I can with Dennis. He’s not happy, but he hasn’t told me not to bother coming back yet, which I take as a good sign.

Langley and I have settled into a comfortable routine. I take her to school and then I go to the dance studio to rehearse. Priscilla was kind enough to offer me the studio space in the morning when it’s not in use. Sometimes we go for coffee first. She’s divorced, I discovered, and lives with her current boyfriend and her children.

After rehearsing at the studio, I go back to Renee’s house and shower. Then I take Siegfried for a long walk. It’s relaxing to have so much free time, and I never thought I could feel relaxed in Cooperstown. Once I get back to my own life, I’ll miss the downtime. I’ll miss Langley, and I’ll miss seeing Cole too. Just as things have finally improved between us, it’s almost time for me to go.

Since the night he hurt his hand, we’ve had some neighborly exchanges. Waves from across the yard as we each head to our cars and brief hellos in the pickup line at school. I have to admit, friendly smiles from Cole are nice, but they leave me feeling restless because I foolishly want more. Even after the way he treated me, I can’t be angry at him. He’s going through a difficult time, and I wonder if there’s more to it than he told me, because sometimes he looks as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It’s probably best that I’m going soon because seeing Cole stirs something in me. He excites me and hurts me in equal measures just by existing. I feel the way I did the morning I woke up and found his note stuck to my bathroom mirror. Like I lost something I could never have in the first place.

As I leave the school on Friday afternoon after picking up Langley from soccer practice, I wonder when Renee will turn up this weekend. Since I got here on a Saturday, technically a week would be tomorrow morning. But I haven’t heard from her since the message she left last weekend, and that makes me uneasy. I’ve tried to reach her, but she still doesn’t pick up her phone or answer text messages.

Since she’s not the most reliable person, I try not to read anything into her silence, but what if she doesn’t come home tomorrow? It’s a question that’s haunted me all week. One I hope I won’t have to answer.

Langley chatters happily in the backseat as I pull into Renee’s driveway. With the windows open, I can hear a commotion coming from the direction of Cole’s backyard.

“Can I go over to Derek’s? I bet the neighborhood kids are all there playing field hockey again.” Langley is out of the car and standing by my door before I have a chance to reply.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I don’t believe Cole would say anything to upset her again, but I’d rather not put her in that situation.

She bites into her lip and looks over at Cole’s yard indecisively. She hasn’t forgotten what happened last time either. “But I really want to go.”

Her eagerness makes me smile. I suppose it’s a good thing that she doesn’t hold a grudge, but I can’t let her go by herself. “Fine, but you have to wait for me.”

She flashes me a grin and takes off.

“I said wait!”

I trail behind her and after I round the corner to the backyard, I see a crowd of kids running around, swinging hockey sticks. Cole is right in the middle of it all, calling out pointers and cheering when someone gets a goal. On the sidelines, several parents watch from lawn chairs. Others are up and moving like Cole, calling out different suggestions to the kids. Apparently gathering here for games is a regular thing.

I catch up to Langley, who stands there breathlessly. “Maybe someone will let me borrow their hockey stick,” she says.

Cole looks up then and spots us. He calls something out to Derek, who runs over to the side and comes back with a hockey stick. When Cole points in our direction, Derek grins and brings it over to Langley.

“You’re on my team,” he says to her.

Langley grabs the stick and jogs over to the makeshift field.

As I watch, both Derek and Cole keep their eyes on Langley and give her direction. Most of the other kids are older boys, but Langley doesn’t seem to mind, running after the ball as if she may actually get there first. As I watch, I wish Renee could be here to see Langley with her hair flying behind her and her face lit up by a smile.

“That’s the Taylor girl.”

“You know the history there, don’t you?”

Two female voices to my left carry in my direction.

“No. What history?”

“No one knows who her father is, but the mother . . .”

My gut clenches as I turn to see who’s talking, and when the woman who apparently belongs to the voice sees me looking, she quiets. The woman beside her glances at me and looks away quickly. I hear the first woman whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as I move to stand somewhere else. How often does Renee overhear gossip about herself or Langley? How cruel does a person have to be to spread rumors about an eight-year-old girl?

“Would you like to play?”

I’m surprised by Cole’s voice directly in front of me. I was so distracted, I failed to notice him approach.

“How’s your finger?” I glance at the gauze wrapped around his thumb.

“It’s fine. I asked if you’d like to play.”

“Me?” Unsure, I look around until my gaze lands on Langley, who watches me hopefully.

Cole chuckles. “Yes, you. Know how?”

“I have no idea.”

Cole smirks and gives me an overview of the game, but from what I can see of the kids running around, the rules are more of a guideline. I’m assigned my position on a team with Langley and several other boys I recognize from the neighborhood but don’t know. There are couple of dads on the team with us, and an attractive blond woman I’ve seen speed-walking by the house with her ponytail bouncing as she pumps free weights in her hands.

Even though Langley and I aren’t very good, we have fun, laughing as we miss the ball more often than not, and allow the more aggressive boys to run off with it.

Cole expertly controls the ball, passing it to Derek who scores easily. The two of them make a good team, but I can tell Cole holds himself back so Derek can shine.

During each break, the speed-walking blonde talks to Cole, patting his arm or touching his shoulder. She’s flirting, just like the women at the dance studio last weekend. Cole is polite to her but he doesn’t seem to flirt back. At least, he isn’t obvious about it.

“Go, Aunt Nikki!”

I tear my eyes away from Cole and the blonde in time to see the ball come right at me. I slam my stick into it and send it flying toward the goal. Everyone runs toward it, but I’m still the closest and I reach it first. Excitement spikes through me as I pull the stick back and connect with the ball again. It launches into the air and hits the back of the net just as I feel a sharp pain in my knee. It buckles and I go down, landing hard on my hip.

Cheers fill the air because I actually scored, but all I can do is hiss through my teeth and wait for the pain to subside.

Cole jogs over and crouches in front of me. “Are you okay?”

I release a harsh, frustrated breath. “It’s my knee,” I reply as I try to push myself up.

He puts his arm around my waist to help me. Then he holds on, offering support as I put weight on my leg and wince.

Langley hovers nearby, looking worried. I glance around the yard and see everyone’s eyes on me.

I smile to show I’m fine. “Did we win?”

Langley looks to Cole for the answer.

“Well . . .” He hesitates.

“I don’t think so,” Langley replies.

“You got one goal,” Derek says. “That’s one goal more than last time you played.”

Langley smirks and rolls her eyes.

“You should sit down,” Cole says to me.

He leads me toward an empty chair beside the two women who were gossiping earlier, and I stop moving, looking for a different chair, but the rest are occupied.

“Not there. Can you take me back to Renee’s house?” Before he can answer, I call over to Langley. “Come on. Time to go home.”

She huffs out a disappointed breath. “In a minute.”

Cole gives me a curious look and eyes the distance to Renee’s house. The next thing I know, I’m in the air and then cradled against his chest.

“Hold down the fort, buddy,” he calls to Derek, and in front of half the neighborhood, he carries me across his backyard.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask, peering back over his shoulder.

“You tell me. Could you have walked on your own?” He sets me down by the back door so I can fish my keys out of my pocket.

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I jam the key into the lock, unsettled by his closeness. “It’s an old injury.”

“Have you had it checked out?” He puts his arm around my waist and helps me to the same chair he sat in the night he hurt his hand.

“No.”

Once I’m sitting down and his arm is no longer around me, I feel like I can breathe again. I bend the knee carefully, and the pain isn’t as sharp anymore.

Cole pulls out a chair and sits down across from me. “Why not?”

“Why haven’t I had it checked out? Because if I go to the company doctor, he might tell me I shouldn’t dance on it.”

His brows arch up. “If you’re injured, maybe you shouldn’t. Not until it’s better.”

I shake my head. “I can’t not dance.”

“Why?”

I laugh and shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh no? You’re afraid you’ll be replaced. Maybe you’re afraid the replacement will be better than you. And you don’t want to be seen as weak or you may fall a few notches in their eyes, whoever they are.”

I just blink at him, speechless because he does understand.

He nods. “I get it, Nikki. It’s how I felt when I played hockey. I don’t know how many times I played injured because I didn’t want to be seen as weak.” He places his hand lightly on my jean-covered knee. “Trust me when I tell you it isn’t worth it. Everyone has a breaking point, a place there’s no coming back from. Don’t push yourself so hard that you reach that point.”

I wonder how anyone could see Cole Dempsey as weak. “Dancing is different. It’s a form of artistic expression. When you dance, you use every part of yourself. The physical and the emotional, your strengths and your weaknesses. My first dance teacher, Miss Emily, used to say if you don’t leave the stage a little broken, you’re not doing it right.”

He smiles. “I’m sure your dance teacher didn’t mean it literally.”

“I’m not.”

His hand leaves my knee. “Look, you’re already a great dancer. Think how much better you could be if you weren’t in pain. I know a good orthopedist in San Francisco. Our team doctor used to send guys to him. He’ll be honest with you. He knows how high the stakes are for professional athletes.”

His determined expression tells me he’s not going to drop this so easily, and I wonder if there’s something more behind it.

“Did you reach that place? Your breaking point? Is that why you don’t play hockey anymore?”

Cole sits back in his chair. “I got checked hard my last season. Laid me out on the ice for seven minutes. When I finally got up, I wouldn’t let my coach take me out. I played the rest of the game with a concussion. It wasn’t my first.”

I recall the terrifying video I watched of Cole lying unconscious after being slammed against the glass. “They let you play after that?”

His gaze sharpens curiously.

My cheeks warm because I’ve given myself away. “I saw a video of it. After that man recognized you in the grocery store, I was curious.”

To his credit, Cole doesn’t comment or try to embarrass me for looking him up. He simply continues his story.

“I should have let them take me out, but in those days, no one argued with me. I told them I was fine, and they wanted to believe it because they needed me. We won that game, and I finished out the season before I finally admitted there was something wrong, something serious, more than just a concussion.” He pauses and watches me carefully as he continues. “It’s still wrong. It hasn’t gotten better.”

Deep lines etch into his forehead and along the sides of his mouth. His tone is so serious, it scares me. But he looks fine, better than fine. He looks capable and strong.

“What’s wrong? What do you mean?”

He shifts in the chair, his posture tense and uneasy. “I have trouble remembering some things. Like I can’t remember appointments if I don’t write them down, and I forget the names of people and places. I can get irritable for no reason and I lose my temper too fast. The doctors say I have post-concussion syndrome, and they don’t know if it’s ever going to get better. All they know is if I suffer any more concussions, it could get a lot worse.”

Looking at Cole, it’s hard to believe he has any dents in his armor. But I think about his behavior at dinner the other night, and wonder if that was a symptom of what he’s talking about. The way he’s watching me, it’s as if he’s bracing himself for a reaction of some kind, a negative one.

“How many concussions have you had?”

“I don’t know. More than a few.”

My forehead wrinkles. He doesn’t know or he doesn’t want to say? “Is that why you retired early?”

He nods. “After eleven great years in the NHL.”

“You didn’t want to retire.”

His eyes close as if he’s remembering. “Playing hockey is all I ever wanted to do.” When they open again, there’s both pain and determination there. “But I love my son. I want to be whole for him, or at least as whole as I can be.”