Page 69 of Here We Go Again

I look over and scowl. “You aren’t going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he says with an adorable smirk.

Our mothers exchange a glance—that will probably happen a lot this week—then Kim turns her attention to me.

“So how do you like working in Atlanta, Becca?”

“I like it,” I say. “I love being able to walk to the hospital, and there are some great surgeons on staff who have made me feel welcome. That doesn’t always happen with surgeons and travel nurses.”

“It must be so fascinating moving from hospital to hospital,” she says. “I’m sure they all do things a bit differently.”

“Definitely,” I say. “I think it’s helped me to be exposed to different methods, but it can be exhausting learning one system only to change hospitals as soon as you finally get the hang of it. It’s worth it overall, but I’m still looking forward to settling down in one place.”

“Will that happen anytime soon?” Kim asks.

“After grad school,” Theo says before I can respond. “She wants to be a nurse practitioner.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice that makes my heart swell the tiniest bit.

“I’m traveling for another year and a half to pay down my student loans,” I say, “then I’ll do grad school after that. I’ve still got a ways to go.”

“You should see her spreadsheet,” Mom says. “She’s got it all mapped out. Loans paid off, grad school tuition saved. She’s working amazingly hard.”

“Aww. Thanks, Mom.”

We spend the next forty-five minutes sharing the last of the wine and chatting with our moms. The conversation meanders, taking us from life in Atlanta to pickleball in Texas and a new drug Mom is on that’s really helping her mobility. We talk about family and friends and hockey and Theo’s recovery and Mia and nursing and where I’ve thought about going to grad school.

Just after eleven, I’m too tired to keep my eyes open any longer, so I slide my glass forward and push back my chair. “Okay. I have to go to bed.”

“We all should,” Mom says as she stands.

“Definitely,” Kim says, but then she pauses and looks over at Theo, who has his phone in his hand, his thumbs flying over the screen. “Is everything okay?” she asks him.

He looks up. “Yeah. Good. Just talking hockey with Carter.” He stands and pockets his phone, and the four of us walk inside. “There’s a new guy on the team who just got to Atlanta today,” Theo says. “Carter and a couple of the guys went over to see him tonight.”

“Carter told me about him,” Kim says. “Didn’t you used to play with his brother? On the Appies?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Theo says.

“How did the visit go?” Kim asks as she puts the wine bottle into the recycling bin.

“Hard to say,” Theo says. “I don’t think he wanted to be traded, so he may have a rough time at first.”

“You’d better take care of him, then,” Kim says. “Especially if they make you a captain. Carter told me that might happen.”

Theo lowers our wine glasses into the sink, then turns to face his mother. “He told you what?”

She lifts her hand in a dismissive wave. “That you might be made captain. I personally think it’s a great idea.”

Theo pushes his hands into his pockets, his back stiff. “Does Carter always talk to you this much?” he asks.

Kim’s expression shifts. If I’m sensing Theo’s discomfort—and I definitely am—she probably is too. “Not always,” she says, her tone apologetic. “But he’s been worried about you lately. With your hand injury, and his marriage, and…” Her eyes dart over to me for a moment, but she doesn’t finish that last thought. “Don’t hold it against him, Theo.”

Theo is quiet for a long moment before he breathes out a sigh and moves to his mom, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an easy hug. “He doesn’t need to worry,” he says. “And you don’t either. But you should both know I have no interest in being a captain.” He makes quick eye contact with me, then he says goodnight to all three of us and heads upstairs.

“Well, I think I hit on a sore spot,” Kim says as soon as he’s gone.

“I’m going to head up too,” I say, not even caring if it looks like I’m following Theo. I am following him. I’m not sure why, but I want to make sure he’s okay.

As soon as I reach his bedroom door, I lift my hand to knock, but then I hesitate.