Fourth and Goal (26 page)

Wiping the sympathy from his face, Derek walked out to meet Ryan. The kid's face lit up with boyish excitement. Sadness sliced through Derek, along with anger toward the unfairness of life. He covered his feelings with an easy smile.

"Wow. It is you.” The kid stared up at him, eyes wide and full of hero worship. Derek rubbed his hands on his thighs and shifted his stance, feeling inadequate and undeserving. He'd been naturally gifted with an athlete's body. Ryan had had one too—he could tell—until the disease started winning. Yet the kid's blue eyes sparkled with life in defiance of the hand he'd been dealt. Ryan was a fighter. His fighting spirit was written all over his face.

"Hey, Ryan, how ya doin'?"

Ryan grasped the sides of his wheelchair. His arms shook from the effort as he hoisted himself to his feet. Derek resisted the urge to help the kid as he struggled to stand. He didn't want him to lose face, but he stood close just in case he needed to catch him.

"I'm doing a lot better now.” He shook Derek's hand, surprising him with the strength of his grip. The weary tension on Ryan's face told the story. As he stood up straight, his body swayed like a willow in the wind. Once at his full height, they were almost eye to eye.

"I understand you've got a hell of an arm."

"Had.” Ryan looked away, biting his lower lip.

"Wanna give it a shot?"

"Yeah, I'd like that.” The kid lifted his gaze, and his eyes lit up.

The hassle he'd gone through to squeeze in a few hours for this kid and his team was suddenly worth it. Derek lobbed a football to Ryan, who managed to catch it. Ryan studied the ball and all the signatures on it and looked up with a question in his eyes.

"The game ball from last weekend. Tell ya what, when we make the play-offs, you can trade it in for a play-off ball."

"Super Bowl ball.” Ryan's blue eyes held his in a steady gaze. Derek glimpsed a teasing light in them.

"You drive a hard bargain.” Derek swallowed and grinned.

"I know.” Ryan rolled the ball around in his hands.

Derek liked the kid. He had guts and a good attitude. As Ryan's teammates and coaches stood back and watched, he ran a few routes for him and caught the kid's wobbly passes.

"I'm a little rusty,” Ryan apologized when Derek had to dive across the wet grass to catch a pass thrown short.

Brushing grass from his shirt, Derek grinned and patted the kid on the back. “You're doing just fine, buddy."

Derek stopped at Character's and had a drink or two or three. Then he drove his big-assed, expensive truck to the barn. He jammed it in park and shut it off. Sitting in the dark, he stared at nothing. God, it hurt seeing a kid like that. Why couldn't he be more like Tyler? Tyler could meet with a hundred terminally ill kids and never bat an eye. Their suffering bounced off his cousin like foam balls bouncing off a concrete wall. Derek soaked it up like a sponge until the pain filled every crack and crevice and he couldn't breathe anymore.

Lord, he couldn't take this. Just because he had this gift of speed and good hands didn't mean he could fix everything wrong with this world. Yet for some reason he felt like he should. Pissed at his vulnerability and the unfairness of it all, he got out of the truck. Glancing at Rachel's dark house, he flipped on one bank of barn lights. He pulled Mac out of his stall, brushed him, saddled him, and led him to the arena. He mounted and loped large circles, letting his body absorb the rocking motion of the horse. Shutting his eyes, he lost himself in the feel of this powerful animal underneath him. A lone tear escaped and ran down his cheek. He
never
cried. He swiped angrily at his face, pissed as hell at his weakness.

Never.

But the reality of it hit him hard in his gut. This kid, barely seventeen, would not see his eighteenth birthday. Stopping Mac, Derek dismounted and led the horse back into the barn. A wave of emotion swept through him, and he laid his cheek against the horse's warm neck.
Don't get involved. Stay away. Getting close to people hurt too much. Too bad about Ryan, but he'd been a good guy and done his duty. Let someone else handle the really tough stuff.

A hand touched his shoulder. He stiffened. Forcing his face into an emotionless mask, he turned.

"Dare, are you okay?” Rachel stood there in a bathrobe, worry lines etched on her sweet face.

"I'm fine. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She touched a finger to his cheek, and it almost undid him. “Dare?"

"Please, just leave me alone.” Damn, his voice shook.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, then stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “You're a good man, Derek Ramsey."

"Am I?” He didn't feel like one. He felt helpless and ineffectual.

"You are."

He turned away, unable to stomach the adoration in her eyes. He didn't deserve it.

"It's about Ryan, isn't it?” She sandwiched him between her and the horse, blocking his escape route.

"What are you, a fucking mind reader?” He snapped at her, but she didn't flinch.

"Mitch called. He mentioned you came by and spent a couple of hours with his team."

Derek turned away and busied himself with the horse. “Ryan's a nice kid."

"Did Mitch fill you in on his background? It's so tragic."

He didn't want to hear this.

"His dad's in prison. They've never met. His mom works nights as a bartender. She's not around much, not a very involved parent. Ever since Ryan got cancer, she's really not been there for him. I guess you could say Mitch has been his father figure these past few years."

"He's lucky to have a guy like Mitch looking out for him."

"I know. My brother is a great guy."

"He wants me to stay away from you."

"Okay, he's not such a great guy when it comes to you and me. In fact, he's a controlling jerk."

"Like the rest of your family.” He heaved the saddle off the horse and carried it to the tack room. Rachel followed him. “Mitch said something else strange. He told me I owed your dad and to do the right thing. What the hell does that mean?"

Rachel's face turned fog gray. Shutters slammed down over her eyes, but not before he glimpsed what almost appeared to be panic. “You never know what Mitch is talking about. I'll take care of Mac.” She skittered from the room, tripping over a rug and almost going down.

Derek stood still, fists clenched at his sides, and stared at the empty doorway. She wasn't being straight with him, and he hated that. Yet he could tell by her closed expression that neither sweet talking nor swearing would get her to open up. Persistence and good old-fashioned persuasion would be the key. He'd get to the bottom of this. In time.

When he came out, Rachel had put Mac away. She tossed some hay in his stall. He watched her flitting around, nervous as hell. Reaching out, he caught her hand and pulled her to him. She resisted, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Thanks for taking care of Mac.” He spoke into her ear.

"I don't mind.” Her hands pressed against his chest.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"Of course, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about.” She gazed up at him, concerned yet anxious.

For a moment they stared at each other. He needed her and wondered if his eyes conveyed his pain and confusion. “I guess I should be going. It's late. We both have to be up early."

He released her and turned to walk off. Confusion littered his thoughts with doubts he couldn't articulate or wrap his brain around. He'd come late to this party, and no one wanted to fill him in on what he'd missed.

"You're not staying alone tonight.” Rachel wrapped her fingers around his arm.

"I'm not?” Easily swayed, he moved closer, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"No, you're not."

He almost smiled. “Your place or mine?"

"How about yours? Charlie doesn't like sharing the bed with you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Well then, big guy, let me grab my stuff."

"Okay.” He watched her go inside her house. Warmth spread throughout his body and took away the chill. She filled an emptiness he never knew existed. When he was with her, he actually believed everything would work out just fine. And even if it didn't, he'd handle it.

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Derek and Rachel made wild and desperate love as if the world wouldn't be there tomorrow. Rachel gave him everything she had, and Derek gave it right back. Stripped of their defenses, raw emotions boiled to the surface and overwhelmed with their sheer power.

Afterward Derek clung to her with a need he rarely, if ever, revealed. Inside Rachel bled for him and for the teenager who didn't deserve his fate. And she teetered on the edge of falling way too far in love with the very wrong man. A man full of contradictions. This man gave so much to others and asked so little in return. Yet the same man had turned his back on her when she'd professed her love in college, and done the same to her dad when Dave McCormick needed him most.

Nothing made sense anymore. She'd live in denial a little while longer, but an inevitable confrontation hovered on the horizon and moved closer every day.

Rolling onto his back, Derek shut his eyes. For the longest time, Rachel listened to his steady breathing, yet she suspected he wasn't asleep.

"Dare?” She turned onto her side and stroked his bulging biceps.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

He chuckled. “We just had mind-blowing sex. Of course I'm okay. I'm a guy. We're shallow."

Derek was anything but shallow. “Was it really?"

"Really what?"

"Mind-blowing?"

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with a hand. “You have to ask that question? You couldn't tell?"

She smiled. “I could tell. I just like to hear it."

He wound a lock of her auburn hair around one of those long fingers of his. “You have the most beautiful hair."

"Thank you."

"I like it all messed up like this."

"We worked hard to get my hair looking like this."

"We sure did.” His mouth quirked in one corner with his trademark lopsided grin.

She swatted him. “Crawl out of that gutter, mister."

"I like the gutter. It feels like home."

Lately Rachel could relate to that. Maybe she'd slide right back down into that gutter with him.

Home, sweet home.

Flipping to his back, Derek took Rachel with him, pulling her across his chest. She cuddled close. He ran his fingers up and down her spine as if gently taking inventory of each vertebra.

"You know, Rae, I feel like I'm living the old adage: be careful what you wish for."

"How so?"

"I thought once we started winning and I started playing well, all my problems would be solved. Instead success created a whole different set of challenges I never anticipated."

"Like Ryan?"

"Yeah. Kids like Ryan. They're everywhere.” It broke his heart, she could tell. He couldn't visit them all and couldn't cure the ones he met. He was just one guy.

"You do the best you can. All we can do is change the world one person at a time."

"Maybe, but inside I'm as screwed up as the next guy. What gives me the right to think I can help someone when I can't help myself?"

"You did help him. You gave him a little bit of joy; you showed him someone cares. He'll cherish those memories."

He stared at her, his expression dark and haunted. What was he was thinking? Was he wondering how long Ryan would have to cherish those memories? Or was he thinking of his own mistakes? Regrets? Or was he thinking of her? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Not yet.

Rachel buried her face in his chest and held tight.

For a long moment Derek sat in his truck and stared at the football field. The guys were going through their drills. Mitch and his coaches barked orders from the sidelines.

Despite his intentions to stay away, here he was a week later.

Panic set in as he scanned the field for Ryan and his wheelchair and couldn't locate him. His heart dived through the floorboards of his truck. He clutched the steering wheel and leaned forward, dissecting every part of the field. He spotted Ryan half-hidden behind a group of players and coaches and breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God.

This was crazy. What was he doing here? He needed to stay away. He had enough going on without taking on another responsibility, another worry. If he had thirty waking hours in his day, it wouldn't be enough.

Yet Ryan struck a need deep inside him. Perhaps he recognized a kindred spirit. Maybe he needed Ryan's quiet strength and positive attitude more than Ryan needed him. Steeling himself for another confrontation with Rachel's disapproving brother, he opened the truck door and hopped out.

Walking across the field, he ignored the surprised stares of the coaches and team. Mitch approached him, not too welcoming, but then he hadn't expected a red carpet. “Did you lose something?"

Derek shook his head. “Nope, just had a few minutes, thought I'd stop by and check in. How're things going?"

He wasn't fooling Mitch. His eyes flicked to Ryan and back again. “He's had better days, but he's hanging in there."

Derek nodded and rubbed his eyes. Damn, he was tired. “When's your next home game?"

"Friday night.” Mitch eyed him suspiciously, as if he suspected Derek had some selfish ulterior motive.
Sorry, Mitch
. He hadn't shown up with the press in tow, nor did he demand a favor in return. He'd come simply because he couldn't stay away, couldn't stop thinking of Ryan.

"How many seniors are on your team?"

"Eighteen, counting Ryan.” Mitch's mouth pulled into a grim line as if he was trying to figure out what was in this for Derek.

"Tell them to keep Sunday free. I'll have tickets delivered to your office later this week."

"You don't need to do that."

"No, I don't, but I want to."

"You guys are the hottest thing in the Northwest right now. How are you going to get that many tickets?"