He still didn’t look at her.

Did he not know? She could’ve had Savannah out easily. Did he not know that she’d deliberately given the little girl a great moment to cherish, especially because his shallow trophy wife was fixated on some stupid idea of what a little girl should be like? Did Dad truly not get it? Did he—

And then there was a crack, and a thunk, and Colleen was suddenly down on her knees, and holy sphincter, her head! She clapped a hand to the spot that was just yelping in pain and saw the baseball at her feet.

She’d been hit in the head with a frickin’ ball.

“Ouch,” she said faintly.

What would Jeter do? Colleen picked up the ball and tossed it to Robbie, who fired to first. Runner was out.

And so was she. The dirt rushed up to greet her, and all was quiet.

* * *

BEING CARRIED OFF the field had a certain élan to it. A certain horrifying, embarrassing, completely unsexy élan.

Marian Field, the mayor of Manningsport, insisted that she go to the hospital, Jeremy concurred, and the volunteer EMTs, half of whom were at the game, couldn’t have been happier, as they loved pain and misery, especially the accidental kind, since it would give them something to brag about at O’Rourke’s.

So she was put in a neck brace and on a backboard, which was ridiculous and more uncomfortable than a baseball to the head. And now she was just lying here like that dead porcupine, Ned Vanderbeek holding an ice pack on her head and trying not to laugh.

Lucas was holding her hand.

It was a disturbingly wonderful feeling.

She kept jerking it away. He kept scowling and taking it back.

“Can we please get this show on the road?” she asked, pulling her hand free for the eighth time. Gurneys. So not her. She tried to get up, and Lucas gently pushed her back down.

“The patient is combative,” Ned Vanderbeek said, grinning.

“I’ll give you combative, little boy. Lean in closer.”

“Stop whining,” Lucas said, taking her hand again.

“I’m not whining. I’m demanding. And why are you acting all possessive and concerned? I got bumped in the head. Big deal.”

“You got knocked out cold. Second time this week.”

“Yeah, well, I also made the play, didn’t I?”

“Fine, you’re Derek Jeter,” Lucas snapped. “And you’re going to the hospital. The end.”

“Oh, so bossy and alpha male. I think I’m having an orgasm.”

Ned choked.

“You’re the one who’s always collapsing around me,” Lucas said. “Just come out with it. You want me to take care of you.”

“Jeez! The ego! How do you both fit in the same car?”

He grinned, and the orgasm became a possibility. She scowled, then looked around for help. “Jeremy! Please let me go home! I need a drink and my dog. Where is he, by the way?”

Connor appeared in her line of vision. He scowled at Lucas but didn’t punch him and looked down at her. “Nice play, Collie Dog Face.”

“Finally, someone appreciates me. Do you know where Rufus is?”

“Here.”

Her dog’s shaggy head appeared, and he began licking her maniacally. She scratched his ears with her free hand. “Who’s a good boy? It’s you, Rufus-Doofus! You’re the good boy! Yes, you are!”

“So that was kind of fun. You went down like a side of beef,” Connor said, because despite the fact that he was an adult, what was better than having your twin sister get hurt?

“Laugh it up,” Colleen said. “It will never top the time you sliced open your scrotum when we were six.” Connor, Lucas and Ned winced in unison. Good.

“Be right back,” Connor said. “I hear the ice cream truck.”

“Bring me a Mr. Nutty.”

And now Paulie was here, her face scrunched in concern. “Coll, I am so sorry! Really! You okay?”

“Oh, sure. Nice hit, by the way. Next time, I’ll try to catch it with my glove instead of my head.” She pried free of Lucas’s grip once more and patted Paulie’s muscular forearm. “No worries.”

“Hey, bud, can you hold this?” Ned asked, handing the ice pack to Lucas. “I see a girl I like. Sarah! Hey! How you doing?”

Lucas smiled down at her and put the ice pack back on her forehead, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look cute,” he said.

Her special places crooned. “You’re a pervert.”

“I could be.”

“You guys make the best couple,” Paulie sighed with gusto. “Totally romantic.”

“No, it’s not, Paulie.” Colleen closed her eyes.

It was. Lucas was the first person she saw when she woke up; granted, she’d been out all of five seconds, but his worried face was looking down at her, and she could’ve sworn he called her mía.

That nickname was dangerous.

So what if he was divorced now? He’d be leaving soon, and she’d be smart to remember it. No matter how good he was making her feel.

“Where’s my child?” Mom pushed through the crowd, the smell of Jean Naté foreshadowing doom and despair. “Baby! You poor thing!”

Colleen heaved a Catholic sigh. “Hi, Mom.”

“My precious girl! Oh, Lucas, hello, dear. How nice that you’re tending to Colleen. The new windows look fantastic, by the way.” And back to Colleen. “Are we going soon? I’ll ride with her,” Mom announced with great overtones of martyrdom. “I’m her mother, after all.”

Her twin was back, eating a Mr. Nutty ice cream cone. “Where’s mine?” she asked.

“Ran out of cash,” he said, taking a bite. “Hey, Ma.”

“I’m going to the hospital with your sister. Are you coming?”

“Connor, do not let her come with me,” Colleen hissed. “I will kill you in your sleep if you let her come with me.”

“Ma,” Connor said patiently. “She doesn’t want you to go. I’ll go.”

“Of course I’m going! You’re my daughter. You’re my first priority.” Mom was scanning for Dad, eager to win the Concerned Parent award, not that there was any competition. “Oh, and Stan had to leave. Ulcerative colitis, very messy.” Mom groped for her free hand, hitting her in the sore spot on her head.

“Ow!”

Lucas’s hand tightened on hers. Was he about to laugh?

She yanked both hands free from both irritating people. “Gerard,” she said to the big guy, “don’t I get to pick who comes with me?”

“It’s usually next of kin, usually. How much is nine times seven?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never known.”

“Her IQ is somewhere around room temperature,” Connor said.

“Just for that, you can’t ride in the ambulance, either,” she said. “Gerard! Can we please get going?”

As always, it seemed as if the ambulance corps had to work on their novels or something. Emergency services has been ruined by iPads...she could’ve sworn that Jessica was looking at dresses on ModCloth.com. Jeremy, who’d been great the first few minutes after she’d come to, was now manipulating Carol Robinson’s right arm, earning plenty of giggles and squeals of delight.

“What’s twelve times nine?” Gerard asked.

“Can we stop with the math?” she snapped. “I want to get this over with and go home. Oh, hey, Levi. Where’s Faith?”

“I’m right here,” Faith said. “You okay? Want me to come with you?”

“That’d be great. Thanks, pal.”

“Oh, hang on, I have to puke. Be right back.”

“Next,” Colleen said as Faith bolted, Levi on her heels.

Gerard patted her leg. “Ready to take a ride?”

“I’ve been ready for thirty minutes, Gerard.”

“Are you complaining? Because I can tell Ned to hit a lot of potholes on the way to the E.R.” He checked something on his iPad. “Hey, Yanks are up by five. So who’s going with you?”

“I am,” Mom and Connor said in unison.

Lucas looked at her. “I am,” he said.

“He is,” Colleen agreed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE CHAIRS IN the waiting room were ridiculously uncomfortable. That, and Connor O’Rourke glaring at him made for a long evening.

When they got to the emergency room, Colleen sent Lucas to wait, and the nurse glared at him until he obeyed. He didn’t like being away from her, and he didn’t like how quiet she’d gotten in the ambulance. She seemed fine, going through her shtick with Gerard, but there was something else going on, too.

Things were getting complicated.

For a long time, he’d very effectively put aside his feelings for Colleen. From that moment when Ellen had told him she was pregnant, he gave up the right to think about Colleen, and certainly to miss her.

But those feelings ran under his life like a subterranean river, and every once in a while, something would crumble, undermined by the current. He dreamt of her smiling with those clear, dark gray eyes, that wise, knowing smile, and he’d follow her into an empty room, thinking finally, finally they were together again...and then he’d jerk awake, and hear Ellen’s soft breathing and remember that he had a wife now. He’d taken vows. He couldn’t betray that with memories of someone else.

But.

She was always there, that river of dark, fast water.

“So you’re working for my mother, and you’re nosing around my sister,” Connor said, speaking at last. They’d been waiting for more than an hour now.

“He does beautiful work, Connor,” Mrs. O’Rourke said mildly. She was reading People magazine. “Which you would know, if you ever came over. Oh, dear. Justin Bieber broke up with his girlfriend. Sad. Connor, what did you think of Stan?”

“He’s very hairy.” Connor resumed the death stare.

Lucas didn’t care. He was here, and he’d be here until he could see that Colleen was okay.

He’d seen her watching her father, not paying attention to the game, and a prickle of warning went through him. Almost before Paulie hit the ball, he was on his feet, somehow knowing Colleen was about to be hurt, and Jesus, her head stopped that ball cold, and then she was on her knees, and for the love of God, made the damn play. And then she went down as if she were dead.

Then he was kneeling at her side, and someone yelled, “Don’t move her!” He didn’t; he just put his hand on her back to see if she was breathing, and thank the sweet Christ child, she was. “Mía? Sweetheart?” he said, his voice rough.

“Ow,” she groaned. “My head! Why did you hit me, Connor?”

Jeremy Lyon checked her, and Levi called it in. Her little sister had been crying, and both Gail and Pete O’Rourke hustled her away.

A concussion was serious business these days. Especially when it happened on town property. When Lucas was a kid, he’d fallen out of the second-story window of Tommy O’Shea’s house and was out cold for ten minutes. His biggest concern was the wrath of Mrs. O’Shea, who’d told the boys to be silent during her soap opera. “Got a pretty good lump,” his father had said when Lucas had gone to the garage to show him. “Get some ice on it.”

Now, though...9-1-1 and ambulances and doctors. Probably a good thing.

“Why are you even here?” Connor snapped.

“Because he cares, Connor. Back off,” Mrs. O’Rourke said. “They may be getting back together, right, Lucas?”

“You’re not getting back together with my sister,” Connor said.

“Oh, please,” Mrs. O’Rourke said. “He’s her first love. And you know how powerful that can be, Connor.”

“Save me,” Connor muttered.

A tiny Asian girl came into the waiting room. She looked to be about thirteen, but she wore a white doctor’s coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. “Hi! I’m Dr. Chu! How’s everyone tonight?” She waited for an answer. “Is everyone here for Colleen O’Rourke?”

“Yes,” Lucas said.

“I figured. It’s a superslow night. She’s the only one here. I was watching Game of Thrones on my phone before she came in, and I was like, yay, finally! A patient!”

“I’m her brother, and this is our mom,” Connor said. He didn’t bother to explain Lucas.

“Excellent! Are you twins? You guys look totally alike.”

“They’re twins, all right,” Mrs. O’Rourke said. “Connor weighed eight pounds, three ounces, and Colleen was seven-fourteen.”

“You’re a champ!” Tiny Asian Girl said. She looked at him. “And you’re the husband?”

“He’s not the husband,” Connor growled.

“Her first love,” Mrs. O’Rourke said.

“Aw! Totally romantic!” the doctor said. “Well, she has a closed head injury, which is a cool way of saying, whoopsy, concussion! Right? We just wanted to observe her for a little while, make sure she didn’t puke or anything. That can be a bad sign. But she’s fine! No emesis—that’s medical speak for puking—and no signs of disorientation. She turned down the CAT scan, which is totally what I would do, too. Why expose yourself to radiation for a bump on the noggin, right?”

She beamed at the three of them, and, getting no response, looked back at her clipboard. “She needs someone to watch her tonight and just do a couple checks, wake her up and see how she feels. If you can’t wake her up or if she seems confused, or if she stops breathing, most definitely call 9-1-1, okay? No Motrin or aspirin for forty-eight hours. Just an ice pack. Do you have any questions?”