“Let me grab my bag,” Olivia said, wiping an errant tear from her cheek. She unlocked the car and pulled her bag from its spot behind the driver’s seat, then hurried inside.
The hockey game had come to a halt and both teams were gathered near the bench. When she reached the rink, she found Benny sitting on the ice, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was holding his arm, and his left hand dangled at an awkward angle.
“Oh, Benny. Again?” He nodded and she squatted down next to him. “You might want to take up soccer. You don’t need your arms for that.”
Benny laughed, his nose runny and his eyes red. “My mom is going to kill me,” he said.
“No, she isn’t,” Olivia said. She glanced over her shoulder at Marcy. “Is his mom here?”
“She’s on her way,” the coach said.
“Let’s get him off the ice and I’ll splint his wrist before we take him over to the emergency room. Can someone—”
“I’ve got him.”
Will appeared out of the crowd of kids and bent down to scoop Benny up in his arms. Olivia followed them off the ice, and when they reached the locker room, Will set the boy down on a counter next to the sinks.
“It doesn’t hurt as much as the last time,” Benny said. “Maybe it’s not broken after all.”
“Do this,” Olivia said, flexing her wrist. Benny tried and failed. “It’s broken.”
“How long will it take to heal?”
“We’re going to take an X-ray and see about that. But I don’t think you’re going to be playing hockey this winter.”
Benny turned to Will, who was watching them both from a distance. “Did you ever break your arm?”
“I did,” he said. “And my leg. I’ve even been shot. Twice.”
Benny’s eyes went wide. “You’re the army guy. Kyle’s uncle. Kyle is my best friend. One of my best friends. He said you got blown up in the war. Is that true?”
“Not exactly. And I’m a marine. That’s different than army.”
“Cool,” Benny said. “Can I see your bullet hole?”
“It’s in a place that I can’t really show right now,” he said. “I’d have to take my clothes off.” Will nodded his head at Olivia. “And there’s a girl in the room.”
“Oh, right,” Benny said, grinning.
They continued to chat about Will’s military career, Benny asking Will brutally direct questions and Will answering as best as he could. By the time Benny’s mother arrived, Olivia had splinted Benny’s wrist and given him a grape Tootsie Pop to keep the boy from dwelling on the pain.
“Take him to the emergency room,” Olivia said to Benny’s mother. “I want to take X-rays and then we’ll probably put a cast on it.”
“Another cast?” Benny asked.
“It’s the only way to fix it,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, I know,” the boy said, nodding.
“All right. I’ll meet you there, buddy.” She watched as Benny walked out with his mother, then she glanced over at Will. “Thanks for the help. And for distracting him.”
“No problem.” He leaned against the wall, observing her coolly. “You really are a doctor, aren’t you.”
“I better be. Or the patients I’ve been seeing this past year are going to sue me.” She held up her hand to him as she pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “Hang on, let me call this in.”
He watched her silently as she pulled up the number for the emergency room at the hospital in the neighboring town of Laurium. “Hey, Sarah, it’s Olivia. I have Benny Johansson, seven years old, coming in with a fractured left wrist. I’m going to want X-rays.” She paused. “And order a full blood workup, as well. And give him a Popsicle. He likes grape.” She hung up the phone. “I better go.”
“Why the blood test?” Will asked.
“Just routine,” Olivia replied.
Will shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’ve hung around enough medics in the last nine years. Witnessed enough shattered limbs. You don’t order a blood test for broken bones.”
“I can’t talk about it,” Olivia said. “It’s confidential. I—I shouldn’t have made that call in your presence.” She silently scolded herself. “I really have to go now. I’ll—I’ll see you around, Will.”
He didn’t reply, and the silence was only broken by the soft sound of her boots against the tile floor as she walked away.
Olivia had imagined them meeting again. She’d created fanciful dreams of how it might go, and it had always been impossibly grand and romantic. But this hadn’t been anything resembling her fantasies. It had been real and raw, painful and confusing, like pulling sutures from an unhealed wound.
And still, she had to see him again. She needed to find out if there was anything behind that passionate kiss. Was he still harboring feelings for her or had he simply reacted without thinking? The last thing she wanted was to start everything up again with Will. She had to stick to the plan—find closure, for both of them.
She pressed her fingers to her damp lips. While Olivia couldn’t deny the rush of emotion that had flooded her body when he’d kissed her, that was to be expected. He was handsome and a bit dangerous, and had he been anyone but Will, she might have considered a nice little affair.
But Olivia knew that any type of intimate contact between her and Will would be a mistake. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure that Will shared her opinion.
* * *
THE SUN HAD fallen below the horizon and the temperature hovered near zero. Will strode down the snow-covered street, his gaze fixed on the pavement ahead of him. He’d left Elly and the boys at the rink and told his sister he’d meet them at the pizzeria for dinner.
But first he needed the frigid air and snowy night to clear his head. What the hell had he been thinking? Running into Liv at the post office was bad enough. But then to chase her out of the rink and kiss her? He might as well shoot himself through the heart and be done with it.
He searched for ways to rationalize his behavior. His brain might still be a bit scrambled from his injury. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept with a woman in months. But Will suspected that it actually came down to the flood of feelings that raced through him when he looked at her.
He hadn’t really felt much of anything in years, not since that day he’d gotten the letter. In a war zone, emotion was something that could get a guy killed or permanently disabled. He’d forced himself to harden his heart and to lock his soul so deeply inside him that nothing he saw or did would affect him. It was the best way to survive his service and come out whole on the other side.
He’d seen so many friends struggle with PTSD, only to go home and find that home wasn’t a cure at all. It simply amplified the symptoms. Will was tough and he understood the pitfalls. But he’d always had the ability to put his emotions aside and focus on the job.
For now, his single focus was to get better, both physically and mentally, so he could return to the only place in the world that made sense: his unit in Afghanistan. Life there was lived in simple terms—black-and-white, good and bad, safe and dangerous.
Yet he couldn’t deny the attraction to a civilian life. He remembered a moment, sitting beside a bomb-pocked road in the Helmand Province. A butterfly had landed on the muzzle of his weapon and he’d watched it, its wings silently opening and closing in the dusty breeze.