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Lynn’s coat dropped from her nerveless fingers. “An accident?” she croaked.
Sarah nodded, the gleam of juicy gossip in her eyes. “Just this side of Quesnel. Swerved to miss a deer, hit an icy patch, and ended up in the ditch.”
She bent with careful precision to retrieve her coat from the floor, wondering if it was possible for a spine to crack from fright. “Was anyone hurt?” Didn’t coaches traditionally sit at the front of the bus? Hadn’t she heard that somewhere? If the bus went into the ditch straight on...
“Nope. They spent a few cold hours on the side of the road, though, waiting for another bus. They should be here any minute now.”
The tension left her in a dizzying rush. She hung her coat on the rack, gripping the fabric and hanging off it until the world settled. “Oh, thank you, God,” she whispered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Taking a cleansing breath, she turned and made her way to her desk. “I’m glad no one was hurt.”
“Of course.” The possibility the accident could have been much worse didn’t seem to diminish Sarah’s enjoyment in the tale.
Safely in her chair, she wiggled the mouse to wake up her computer in an automatic gesture. Something Sarah had said niggled at her. “They’re not back yet?”
“No. The accident happened about five. It took some time to get transportation figured out.” A dark bulk glided to a stop outside the wide windows. “And here they are. How’s that for timing?”
She remained seated, listening to the growl of the diesel engine, letting relief flood her system. He’s home. He’s safe.
The driver exited the bus and pulled open the doors of the enormous storage recess underneath the seats. Unlike the logoed, semi-luxurious team bus, this one had seen better days, with the evidence of ancient stickers on its side and old-fashioned windows. She didn’t care. It had brought Benjamin home in one piece.
As the players trickled off, she gripped her desk and fought the urge to race outside and make sure for herself he was unharmed. Whatever their relationship was, it certainly wasn’t at the stage where she was comfortable with such a public display, and she was convinced Benjamin felt the same. Besides, he hadn’t texted her after the crash, so wouldn’t know she knew. He would have had more important things on his mind.
Levi, Avril, and Ryan followed the players out. Benjamin was the last to stride down the steps, frowning at his phone, a dark satchel slung over his shoulder. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thump at seeing him whole and healthy. He took his overnight bag from the storage compartment, nodded at the crowd still standing near the bus, and headed in the direction of the arena’s main doors, just out of her view.
Sarah gave her a surprised look when she jumped to her feet. “Umm, just going to check that set up is on track for the concert tonight. I’ll be right back.”
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BENJAMIN HAD BEEN DOZING when the bus went off the road. He’d been jerked awake by the sudden swerve, the driver’s curses, and his laptop tumbling off the seat.
The motorcoach was a newer model that included shoulder-strap seat belts, so when it nosed into the ditch and came to a sudden stop everyone was still in place, but he’d done a quick roll call to ensure there were no unexpected injuries. One of the players who had reclined his seat to sleep the trip away hadn’t even woken up. Organizing a replacement bus had been more of an annoyance than a worry. He’d been thankful they weren’t in one of the many spots along the highway where cell service wasn’t available.
As much as he longed for a few hours of sleep stretched out on a comfortable mattress, when the bus pulled up at the arena he headed to his office. The team was scheduled to do dryland training later that day as the ice would already be covered for a concert that night, but he’d pushed it back to allow everyone some personal time. If he got a couple of tasks done now he could head home for a nap and be rested by then.
Satchel on his shoulder and overnight suitcase bumping behind him, he pushed through the arena doors and headed down the wide stairs that led to the lower level. Rushing footsteps followed him, a woman’s heels on concrete, and he turned at the bottom in time to see Lynn swinging around the landing, blonde ponytail flying.
Without a word she barrelled into him, wrapping her arms around his torso, the force of her embrace causing him to take a step back. He released the hold on his suitcase and it fell over with a clatter.
“Well, hello there.” He held her close. Something that had been cold and dark deep in his chest warmed and brightened. It had been forever since he’d had someone greet him after a road trip.
It felt odd and unexpected—and totally awesome.
“I heard about the accident.” Her voice was muffled against his coat. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Is that what this is about? It was nothing, barely a bump.” Not that he didn’t appreciate her concern. Especially if it meant he could hold her. “Were you worried about me?”
She drew her head back so she could look him in the eye but didn’t release her grip on his waist. “Maybe a little.” She huffed out a breath. “Okay, more than a little, at least until I heard there were no injuries.”
He’d promised never to shut her out, and yet he’d done just that. Guilt flared. “I’m so sorry. I swore I wouldn’t keep things from you. I should have texted.”
She shook her head. “You had other things to think about. I’m not upset you didn’t let me know. Honest.” She snuggled back in. “I just needed to see you for myself. I’m good now.”
He was having trouble breathing, his chest heavy with an emotion he couldn’t define. To be the focus of Lynn’s concern was a responsibility and a privilege. He hadn’t even thought of her in the chaos of getting things done after the crash, and he regretted the omission fiercely.
“Let me make it up to you.” He rested his chin on the crown of her head and peace washed over him. “How about I bring dinner over tonight?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
A wistful note in her tone gave him the courage to press the issue. “I want to. I want to spend time with you and Oscar. I’ve missed you. Both of you.”
Her hair tugged in his whiskers when she raised her head. “You haven’t been home for a week. Surely you’d rather go to your own place.” Her eyes scrutinized his.
He couldn’t tell her that her house felt more like home than his apartment. “It’s okay. Pizza sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
He leaned toward her, his lips just a breath away from hers, when the tread of heavy steps approached. She stiffened and with reluctance he let her go.
She stepped back, smoothing her blouse. “Tonight, then.”
He nodded. “Tonight.”
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WHEN BENJAMIN ARRIVED that evening with two large pizzas in hand, Lynn immediately invited Stephanie to join them. It served the dual purpose of fewer leftovers and further delaying the talk that Lynn knew she had to have with him.
During her childhood and teens, it had been the uncertainty that she found most stressful. She had been well into her twenties before she’d come to that realization, not being self-aware enough until then. While her upbringing had been unusual, it wasn’t the home-schooling and the travel that had bothered her. It was the sudden changes. One day they’d be settled in a town, the next her father would have a new scheme and away they’d go. If she’d known when the changes were happening, she would have dealt with them better, she was sure.
Now she had to remove the uncertainty in her relationship with Benjamin.
Just like the first evening he’d shared a meal with her and Stephanie, Lynn took care of Oscar’s bedtime routine while the others cleaned the kitchen. Her heart gladdened at their shared laughter and chatter. It was a little frightening how seamlessly he fit into her life, even with his frequent absences. Stephanie had given her stamp of approval after the Silverberry Christmas party by offering, unsolicited, to look after Oscar anytime Lynn wanted to go out with him.
When she brought Oscar in to say goodnight, her son stretched out his arms to Benjamin, babbling and chortling. After a tiny pause, he took the toddler under his arms and tucked him on his hip. His expression was an interesting mixture of pleasure and trepidation.
Lynn went with her impulse. “Do you want to put him to bed? I think that’s what he’s asking for.”
Benjamin’s eyes widened and glanced from her to Oscar and back again. “I suppose I can handle that. What do I do?”
Lynn explained the routine—music, night light, a few minutes of back-patting. He nodded, his lips pressed together in concentration while he swayed from side to side, Oscar clamped securely to his ribs.
She kissed her son’s sweet-smelling head. “See you in the morning, honey-bun.”
Stephanie kissed him, too, and then Benjamin disappeared down the hall with an air of determination. Lynn stared at the empty opening, a hard lump in her throat.
Stephanie nudged her elbow. “I assume it was the night of the Christmas party, since you haven’t seen him since then.”
She was still caught up in the sight of Oscar in Benjamin’s arms. “What are you talking about?”
“When the two of you had sex. For the first time. Again.”
Her gaze snapped to Stephanie. Her friend’s knowing grin made her want to wriggle so she lifted her chin defiantly. “Maybe.”
Stephanie’s smile widened. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. It’s not only up to me, after all. I’m going to talk with him tonight.”
“I’ll make myself scarce, then.” She headed for the stairs and hesitated, turning back with a serious look. “Just remember. Oscar’s taken as much of a shine to him as you have. If Benjamin spends much more time around here...” She trailed off, but Lynn had no trouble filling in the blank.
“I know. Just because he’s a baby doesn’t mean he won’t get attached. But he’s so young. He’ll never remember Benjamin if it all falls apart.”
It was her own heart she was worried about.