Page 9 of The Heart Remembers

“Oh, yeah. Tampa Bay or Detroit?” I teased.

“Neither. I’m a Cubs fan.”

My mouth fell open. “Since when?” This was Michigan. We were loyal to the blue and orange.

“Since Emily,” she teased, nodding at her mother, and I’m reminded that Emily is not her mother, at least not biologically. I’d totally forgotten about that. Emily had been from Chicago and married her dad when Katie was still young. She even adopted her.

“But you don’t call her Emily,” I said, quickly shifting to a more serious topic.

“Of course not. She’s my mom.” The casualness with which she spoke surprised me, and I caught myself looking over at AJ in Tricia’s arms. Would my son easily call someone else his mother? Would another woman so easily accept my child?

These were my thoughts as I drifted off to sleep, drinking a bit too much to ease the ache in my leg before bed.

So, I wake with a start after one of those dreams. One of those ones that remind me of all I’d lost.

My lids flip open, and I hear the creak that woke me. The sound is like that of the door my platoon and I opened in that church.

Jackknifing upward in my bed, I stare, stunned and astounded to find Katie in my room, holding AJ to her chest and rocking him in a glider chair in the corner.

“What are you doing in here?” My voice is rough, the accusation harsh although it shouldn’t be. It’s innocent enough that she’s cuddling my son but still strange.

“He was crying. I heard him through the wall.” Her voice remains quiet as she presses a kiss to AJ’s head.

Shit. Shit.

“I’m sorry he woke you.”

She smiles into his temple. “It’s fine.” Her eyes close, inhaling his baby sleep scent. He had a bath tonight, and I swear it was like a female invasion. Everyone wanted to watch and then hold him, sniffing that baby soap scent.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she adds, her eyes opening and looking back at me. Her eyes drift to the bottle of Irish whiskey on the bedside table. “You were pretty out of it.”

Crap. I swipe both hands over my head, brushing over my hair and then scrubbing down my face.

“Does this happen often?” She’s not accusing me of anything, or perhaps she is. It’s a simple enough question, and I fight the urge to snip back at her.

“It doesn’t happen often, but I forgot my pills, and my leg really aches.” Too much enthusiasm during the game. She holds my gaze.

“It sounded like you were having a bad dream.”

Jesus. Don’t psychoanalyze me, I want to retort, but again I don’t. It’s the calm of her voice and the softness in her eyes that force me to answer honestly.

“I had a therapist when all this happened.” I wave a hand over my blanket-covered leg and realize I’m only wearing boxer briefs underneath the covering. “And intensive physical therapy. I still have on-call support if I feel I need it and pills for when it’s too bad.”

“Was today too bad?”

“It was just the game,” I state, my irritation beginning to creep out.

“With physical therapy, sometimes people forget it’s just as important to work your mind. You need the right mindset, an open mindset, to work through the experience.”

“I just told you I have a therapist,” I snap, and immediately wish I could take the words back when Katie’s expression shifts. Her lips twist, and she shifts her body, standing with AJ melting into her.

“He’s back to sleep.” She rubs a hand up his back, and I notice her attire is a short tee shirt, nightie thing. It’s sexy without intending to be, and I swallow at the thought of her wearing such an easily removable item to bed. From my bed, I appreciate the view, especially when she bends forward, returning AJ to his Pack ’n Play crib and presses her two fingers to her lips before lowering them for AJ’s head.

Damn, she’s so sweet. And I’m an ass.

Shifting on the bed, I easily reach out for her as the Pack ’n Play is close, and curl my arm around her middle. I tug her back to me, and she squeaks in surprise.

“Shh, you’ll wake AJ.” I scoot back, allowing her space on the mattress as I drag her down so her back meets my chest and she lays next to me.