Chapter Three

Evelyn sat on the arm of Owen's couch.

"I'm so happy for you, Evie. The nomination is well deserved," Donald said.

She sighed. It didn't feel well deserved. Not for that episode. "Did you see the episode?"

"I saw clips from it. You did a great job."

He would think so. It had been his idea. As soon as the news reports had started coming in, Donald had called her at work and told her that if she wanted to take her career to the next level, this was the kind of story she needed to go after.

She'd listened to him the way she'd always listened to him. He'd been in the industry so many more years than she had. He knew what he was talking about and was rarely wrong. Didn't the nomination prove that he was right about this, too?

"Harry wants me to do it again," she said quietly, not wanting to rehash it with Owen.

"What do you mean?"

"It's almost the anniversary of the shooting."

"Oh, Evie, that's brilliant."

She bit her lip. Donald was right. In her gut, she knew it. But was an award worth the emotional cost?

"Have you thought about the angle? Have you reached out to the kids and the teachers? I wish I were in Chicago. I'd love to be a part of that. Even to just watch you work. It'll be amazing, Evie."

Donald kept talking as if it were a done deal. Like she shouldn't even consider not doing it. Then he abruptly switched topics to tell her what was going on in his life.

She let him ramble on for a few minutes about the news project he was on. It would be a series of nighttime special events. While he droned, she stared at her feet. Kicking off her shoes, she ran her toes along the smooth, glossy hardwood. Between the low rumble of Donald's voice in her ear and the fact that she was caught up in her own head, she didn't hear Owen come into the room.

Suddenly a plate with a huge piece of cheesecake was thrust in front of her. She looked up, following the long, muscled arm with just enough hair to be inviting to touch, all the way to his face. He knew exactly what she needed, when she needed it. What more could she ask for?

She didn't want to talk to Donald. He hadn't been the kind of husband who brought her cheesecake after a rough day. He'd wanted to tell her how to fix it. As if she didn't have a mind of her own.

"Hey, Donald? I have to go. Owen just placed a huge piece of cheesecake in front of me, and I can't be held responsible for the sounds that may come from my mouth momentarily." She accepted the plate from Owen with a smile.

Donald chuckled in her ear. "I remember how you are about cheesecake. Let me know if you want to bounce some ideas around for that follow-up."

As if she still needed him to guide her career. Years of therapy had taught her that she had been looking for a father figure because she'd had none growing up. She'd met him at work and without a doubt, it would be labeled harassment today, but back then, she'd been drawn to his power. He had taught her so much about being a producer. Which made him a pretty good mentor, but not a good husband. When she'd needed a partner, he'd told her to buck up and do what needed to be done to get where they wanted to go. Nothing was ever just about her.

"Okay. Thanks." She disconnected and slid onto the couch, thinking about her relationship with Donald. He was still good for shoptalk, but he had no clue how to make her feel better. Hell, he didn't even understand that she was upset right now. That much hadn't changed over the years.

Owen sat next to her, the warmth of his body radiating across the short distance. This man, however, understood her. While he might not be the best talker, he was an excellent listener.

"What's up with Donald?"

"Why do you say his name like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like someone is stabbing your eyeball with a dull fork."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "I don't like him much."

Ha. That's an understatement. She didn't understand Owen's dislike of her ex. They'd met. Donald was always pleasant. Then again, Donald was pleasant with everyone. He viewed every introduction as the beginning of a possible future interaction.

She pointed at her cheesecake. "You're not having any?"

"I'm waiting for you to share."

"Why would I do that? You have a whole cake in there."

"But I don't want a whole piece. Just give me a bite."

She sighed, forked a piece, and held it out to him. He leaned forward and ate it. " Mmm … That is good."

"I gave you a bite. That's all you get." She shifted to move the plate out of his reach. The man had fast hands. "Anyway, to answer your question, Donald was calling to congratulate me." After another bite, she said, "He thinks I should do the follow-up on the shooting."

"Vulture," Owen mumbled as he pressed the button to turn on the TV.

"Can we not talk about it anymore? It's going to ruin this delicious dessert."

"One more thing and then I'll hand you the remote and you can pick whatever you want to watch." He twisted to look directly in her eyes.

Seemed like a fair trade-off, so she nodded.

"Don't do anything because someone else says you should. Do what's right for you—what will make you feel good."

That one statement summed up why she loved him and why he had been so good for her since her divorce. The sincerity on his face caused a lump to form in her throat. Owen didn't manipulate. He wanted what was best for her. She nodded.

With their gazes locked, she caught onto the idea of feeling good. She fell into the warmth of his brown eyes. Her pulse ticked up like it had in her kitchen the night of Tess's engagement party. Stop it. This is Owen . She blinked, and the charged moment passed…again.

He handed her the remote, and while she flipped it over to choose a show, Owen reached around and snagged her plate. Before she could blink, he popped the last piece of cheesecake into his mouth.

"That wasn't fair."

He answered with a grin before setting the empty plate on the table.

Her complaint was half-hearted. She'd give Owen anything he asked for. She settled next to him, and his arm came around her shoulders like it always did. When did snuggling with him become the norm? She couldn't remember, because it all felt so easy and natural.

"You'll pay for that," she said, and scrolled through the channels until she could find the silliest, sappiest romantic comedy possible.

The thing was, he didn't care. He let her lean on him and pretend life was light and happy. And for that, she loved him.

…

Owen was exhausted walking away from the firehouse to go home. His phone had been buzzing repeatedly, so he finally checked it. He'd missed a few calls and texts from Evelyn.

He'd forgotten to tell her that he was working overtime, but they hadn't had plans. He'd worked an extra half shift to cover for Joe, whose kid had some school performance. He hadn't counted on the last call being so bad. But it could've gone much worse. Pushing away the thoughts of how bad it could've been, he called Evelyn back.

She answered on the first ring. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm fine. I worked overtime for Joe."

The breath of her sigh was loud enough that he could imagine it brushing his cheek.

"What's up?" he asked. She rarely checked in on him while he was on duty. They texted during shift to chat, make plans for dinner, or talk about friends. She didn't ask about his calls. But when he had a hard day, like today, she always listened.

"Nothing. I just thought it was weird that I hadn't heard from you. You usually call or text when you get off shift to let me know you're okay."

"The last call was rough. Took a long time."

"But you're okay?"

"Yeah," he lied. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally, he needed distance to get a grip.

"Come over."

"I'm exhausted. I'll probably just crawl into bed. And I have to check on Probie." He had a neighbor who walked his dog when he was on shift, but Probie would be missing him by now.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow." He disconnected and waved as he walked through the firehouse. Outside the sun was low in the sky. He closed his eyes and stood for a minute, taking a long breath.

It was late. It always threw him off getting out any time other than first thing in the morning. He liked the routine. But when a buddy needed you to cover, you did. It was how a team worked.

He hadn't eaten in hours. His stomach had to be empty, but he didn't feel particularly hungry. He could make himself a sandwich before he went to bed. A cold beer sounded really good. Too bad he couldn't remember if he had any in the fridge. He'd been spending time at Evelyn's, so he wasn't sure if he'd finished what he'd had. Ever since she'd gotten the nomination a few weeks ago, she'd been working exceptionally long days trying to figure out what to do about the follow-up episode to the school shooting. They hadn't had a lot of time together, but it was enough that he hadn't paid attention to what was in his own fridge.

He didn't have the energy to stop at a store. If he was out of beer, he'd go without. At his car, he rolled down the windows and blasted the air-conditioning to flush out the stagnant heat. He waited outside the car while it cooled. Leaning against the back door, he looked up at the late-evening sun.

He closed his eyes against the glare. Images flashed in his mind of Jamal hanging on to the edge of the car leaning over the highway. He took a few deep breaths to erase the haunting pictures. Nothing would truly wipe them out, but he recounted every step they'd taken to save the victims of the car accident. Retraced his movements to verify that he'd done everything possible to keep his crew safe.

And ultimately, Jamal was safe. He'd be sore tomorrow, and would likely need a few days off, but he was fine.

Satisfied he'd done his best on the call, he climbed in his car and drove home. When he parked in front of his house, he saw Evelyn sitting on his steps.

With his bag in hand, he got out and asked, "What are you doing here?" Then realized he sounded like a dick. "I mean—"

She stood and waved at him. "I know what you mean. I wanted to check on you."

Still pushing thoughts away, he said nothing.

"I know you said you're fine. And physically, you might be."

She knew he would want to be alone. But Evelyn pushed past anything he said he wanted.

"I'm tired."

"And probably hungry because you didn't eat."

The corner of his mouth lifted. She knew him too well.

She stepped closer. "I already walked Probie. Dinner is on the table. Beer is in the fridge." Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered in his ear. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He dropped his bag and folded both arms around her waist. The scent of her comforted him and brought out all the crap he'd shoved down since leaving the accident. Instead of letting go, he buried his face in her hair and held her tighter until the flood of emotion passed.

Evelyn ran her hand over his head, soothing him without saying a word. God, how he'd missed having someone to come home to after a shift like this. To be able to lose himself in another person. For a few minutes, they stood like that. When he finally had himself together, he pulled back.

"The neighbors are gonna talk," he said gruffly.

She smiled. "It's about time you gave them something to talk about." She patted his chest. "Don't forget to eat."

When she backed away, he caught her wrist. "Come inside."

"I thought you were tired."

"I am. You can keep me company while I eat the dinner you brought. Hope it's something good."

"Nothing but the best for you, of course." She pushed the front door open, and Probie danced around to greet him. He tossed his bag in the corner and bent to pet his dog.

"You want to eat in the kitchen or in here?" Evelyn asked.

"In here. I just want to collapse."

She nodded toward the couch. "Have a seat. I'll grab the food."

He plopped on the couch and kicked off his shoes. Probie moved in a circle and settled at his feet. Evelyn came back in the room with a giant salad and a bottle of beer.

"I figured you'd want something light before bed."

"Anything would be great. Thanks." He took the salad, balanced it on his lap, and took a long swig of ice-cold beer.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked as she joined him on the couch.

"No."

"I won't freak out. I know your job is dangerous, but I trust you to do everything you can to make it back to me." She reached over and held his hand. The gesture was the same as always, yet different.

When she was so understanding, eager for him to unburden, it was difficult to keep the distance he so desperately needed. Stacy had never been able to handle hearing about his job. She definitely couldn't handle him after a call like today. He wanted to forget, but he'd learned it was too much to expect from someone else.

Except Evelyn made him feel safe enough to talk. She could handle it. He set his food on the table.

"We had a bunch of calls today. A small kitchen fire and three car accidents. On the last call, we were pulling victims from a smashed car. The vehicle had flipped and was stuck against the guardrail." He stared at his hands in his lap. Evelyn still held one, but his other was clenched in a white-knuckled fist. He slowly opened his fingers and forced them to relax. "Jamal almost slid off the side of the car and over the rail. He could've fallen into traffic below. I grabbed him, and the rest of the guys pulled us all to safety."

"Jamal's okay?"

"Yeah." Telling her hadn't been as hard as he'd thought. Tension eased from his shoulders as she stroked the back of his hand.

"I'm glad."

She showed no signs of wariness or concern over his job. No hint of needing to get away. For the first time in hours, he breathed freely.

This was what it meant to have someone in your corner. Emotion clogged his throat and pricked the back of his eyes, so he took a swig of beer.

To her credit, Evelyn pretended not to notice, turning on the TV. She talked over the top of everything, recalling what craziness had happened on set the last few days. She did everything she could to distract him and keep him from feeling like crap. It was weird not having to comfort someone else. Evelyn just took care of him.

He finished his beer and his salad, stretched his legs out, and pulled her close. They spent a lot of time like this. It was something he didn't want to lose.

She flipped through channels again—it drove him crazy that she had a hard time settling on something.

The conversation from Sunny's came back to him. Between that and his own slight brush with mortality, he wanted reassurance. "Are you dating anyone?"

"Huh?" She looked up at him over her shoulder.

"Dating? Are you?"

"You know I'm not."

"I know you don't have a boyfriend. But are you looking?"

"I don't know. I told you I'm not actively on the hunt." She twisted her body to face him. "Why?"

"Just wondering. We talk about pretty much everything, but you haven't mentioned any dates in a while."

"Haven't had much success."

"Oh."

"Is there a reason you're asking?"

"Just curious." It wasn't totally the truth, but he didn't have a better answer. What was he supposed to say? He was a selfish bastard who didn't want to lose her to someone else, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to change their relationship. What if he made a move and it wasn't what she wanted? Things would get awkward.

And if she was open to changing their relationship? What else would change? Would they lose the ease they had with each other?

Early on, he and Stacy had been easy together. Then the stress of his job had taken its toll. She wanted more of everything, and he hadn't been enough. How could he be enough for Evelyn?

She gave him an odd look and then turned back to the TV. He leaned against the back of the couch, closed his eyes, and listened to her running commentary.

Right now, they each played a role in each other's life. If they changed that, he might lose everything. He could be a difficult partner. What if she couldn't handle this side of him 24-7? He'd prefer to play it safe and keep the Evelyn he had right now.

…

Evelyn knew as soon as Owen slipped off to sleep. She should have left, but something told her to stay. He needed her, even if he wouldn't say it. It was more than having someone to make sure he ate dinner. He hated to lean on anyone, so sometimes she needed to just push up against him until he had no choice. This evening had been the first time she truly considered the dangers of his job. She obviously understood the danger, and he'd shared enough stories over the years for her to know how it affected him.

She just wanted to be here for him. Instead of waking him to go to bed, she continued to snuggle against him on the couch.

Which was exactly where she found herself the following morning. She slowly stretched. At some point, they'd shifted, and Owen was fully beneath her. His morning hard-on greeted her and she slid away. Normal biological function or not, she didn't need to think about Owen's dick being hard.

She shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee. Then she went to the bathroom to shower. She'd spent the night at Owen's before, and he'd slept at her place, too. But something about last night had felt different. Her brain was foggy, and she couldn't quite decipher what had changed. Water sluiced over her, and she sighed. Owen had a great shower.

He'd offered to redo her bathroom and put in the same fixtures, but it wouldn't be the same.

A thump sounded at the door. "Hey." His voice was sleep-rough. "I'm coming in. I gotta piss."

"Such a charming guy. Do you treat all your overnight guests like this?"

"Nope. You're special."

She washed her hair and pretended that the rough sound of his voice had no effect on her. He took care of business and left without another word.

Why had she thought something was different about last night? What kind of fantasy was she trying to spin in her head? She smiled at her silliness and rinsed off. Maybe Owen was making a point last night by asking her if she was dating. Maybe he was subtly hinting.

She turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself. Maybe it was time to create online profiles again…but that took so much effort. Last summer when Nina had challenged them all to get out and try to find relationships, Evelyn had. She'd rejoined at least three dating sites.

It was so tedious, though. Guys wanted to text and chat forever, but never got around to asking her out. When she did the asking, it never went further than a drink. She had better things to do than waste time on guys when it wouldn't go anywhere.

As she dried off, she realized she hadn't thought about what to wear. Owen knocked again. Then the door cracked open and one arm snaked through holding a T-shirt and shorts.

"Thanks."

"I want them back."

"Yeah, yeah." She took the pile and pulled the clothes on.

"I'm serious," he continued through the crack in the door. "I bet if I rummage through your closet, I'll find a third of my clothes."

She opened the door. "A third is an exaggeration."

"Not by much." He eyed her up and down. "But you might look better in them than I do."

She smiled. "Good to know."

In the kitchen, Owen poured them both a cup of coffee. "What do you have going on today?"

"The usual Sunday stuff—laundry, grocery shopping. Then I might go in to the studio to work on the show for a bit."

"Isn't that what your regular workweek is for?"

"When I'm there during the week, my time is filled with phone calls and meetings, and then we're filming. I think I have an angle for the school shooting follow-up."

"Does that angle involve not doing it?"

She sighed. "I told you I can't just not do it. But I have ideas I think I can live with."

"Tell me."

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I have to make sure it'll work. What're you doing?"

"I have a basketball game at the center. The middle school girls' team is on fire. They keep playing the way they are, and they'll have scouts looking at them before they even graduate from high school."

She watched his face bloom with happiness. The kids at the center brought so much joy to his life. He'd make such a great dad. "Why don't you have kids?"

He choked on his coffee.

Her question was a little abrupt, but given his questioning last night, she figured it was open game.

"I kind of need a woman for that to happen."

"But do you want them?"

He slowly licked his lips. "I did at one point. I was sure Stacy and I would have at least a couple. But it didn't happen. In the meantime, life kept going. Now I wouldn't be upset if I met someone and she had kids or wanted to, but I'm not searching for it anymore. Not like I did when I was younger."

"You'd be an excellent dad. I see it in your face every time you talk about the kids at the center."

"I get my fill there. I get to be friend and mentor to a lot of kids, but I don't have to do it twenty-four-seven. I still get my life the way I want it. It's the best of both worlds."

She sipped her coffee. "You don't think you're missing out not having your own?"

"Do you?"

"Hell no. I'm not made to be a mom. A cool aunt, sure. But making my life revolve around someone needy and dependent wouldn't work for me." Yet another reason she wouldn't date someone younger. She wanted someone on the same page. Someone who would respect her career. Someone who wouldn't pressure her for kids.

He drank his coffee and didn't say anything else on the topic. She couldn't read his expression. They'd been friends for so long, she couldn't remember if they'd ever had this conversation before. Maybe early on when they were both thinking about dating again and looking for a partner. His answer now surprised her. She wasn't sure she totally believed him. Part of her wondered if he just gave up on the idea of having his own kids so he was selling himself on being satisfied with what he had.

She finished her coffee and put her cup in the sink. "What time is the game?"

"Three."

"Maybe I'll stop by."

"You don't like basketball."

"But I like watching you coach." She'd come to watch many sporting events simply because it was important to him. "If you win, I might even buy you dinner."

"I think I owe you dinner for last night." He stood next to her and took her hand. "Thanks for everything."

"I didn't do much."

"You gave me what I didn't even know I needed. It was good to have company after a day like that."

"You would've done the same for me." And had many times.

"Thank you anyway." He kissed her temple.

The gesture was so sweet, she couldn't form words. She simply nodded. Stepping away, she scooped her hair up into a ponytail. "Don't forget the awards ceremony is Saturday. You're still coming, right?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm doing the follow-up show."

"I might not like parts of your job or how you choose to approach things, but I wouldn't miss that. It's important to you."

"Thanks. Black tie," she added.

"That was shady. Getting a confirmation before reminding me that I have to wear a penguin suit."

She stepped closer again and patted his chest. "You make a good penguin, though."

"Whatever."

"See you later." She gave Probie a quick belly rub and left. Unease settled in. Things felt different with Owen, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. They'd always been comfortable around each other, regardless of what was going on in their lives. It wasn't so much discomfort as a kind of shift. She just didn't know if she should do anything about it.

…

Owen arrived at the center early because he liked to have time to hang out with the kids before warm-ups. He strode through the door and hadn't gotten more than five steps into the hallway before Sandra called to him from her office.

The woman who was normally bright and bubbly looked beat.

"Hi, Sandra. What's up?"

"I know you have a game to get ready for, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. The budget isn't looking good. If we don't get a sizable influx of donations by the end of the year, we're going to have to cut hours and programs."

He sank to the seat in front of her desk. They'd had this conversation many times over the years, but he couldn't remember a time when Sandra looked so defeated. "Where do you even start? How do you decide what to cut?"

"I don't know." She shook her head sadly. "Unstructured things like open gym hours will probably go first. Paying to keep the doors open and lights on when we don't know how many kids will utilize it doesn't make sense."

"But it's a safe haven for them. They know we're here and they have options. It keeps them out of trouble."

"I know, but I certainly don't want to cut classes or teams. They offer the best ROI."

He was sickened by the thought of having to think of return on investment in relation to his kids.

"Let's host some more benefits or fund-raisers. If people knew what we do, they'd give more."

"We're going to try. Thank you for all your help. I don't know what I'd do without you. I wish I could offer you a salary."

"I don't need money. I love being here." Unlike being a firefighter, working here allowed him to see the long-term positive effects of what he did. Sure, he saved lives, but once a fire was out, he rarely found out what happened to the survivors. At the center, he watched kids grow into adults.

"And we all appreciate it."

He stood. "I'm headed to the gym to set up for the game. Will you be there?"

"No way would I miss our girls winning. They've become quite the team."

"They have a lot of talent."

"Talent only gets you so far. You've taught them discipline and self-confidence. That will take them far in life."

He certainly hoped so. He grabbed his bag and went to the gym. Unsurprisingly, a group of girls were already there, suited up in their worn and tired uniforms, scrolling through their phones, and laughing at whatever silliness they saw on the screens.

On the other side of the gym, parents were setting up a table to sell concessions, one of their smaller fund-raisers. He waved at them as he walked to the sidelines and set down his bag. Looking at the girls, he asked, "Keisha, is Malik going to be here today?"

Keisha's older brother had been coming to most practices, acting as an unofficial equipment manager.

"Here, Coach," he heard from behind him before Keisha could even answer.

Tall and lanky, Malik ran up to him. The boy wore basketball shorts the same color as the girls' uniforms. Owen tossed him the keys to the equipment room. "Roll out the balls and then fill the water bottles."

"Gotcha."

Owen hadn't been looking for an assistant, but Malik had been a godsend. He ran around doing the things Owen often postponed or neglected. A few minutes later, the girls were standing around him, phones put away. They were ready for warm-ups, but first they wanted to know the scoop on the opposing team. It was something he'd been trying to do this season. He visited other teams and watched them play. It gave him valuable insight about how to strategize. A side benefit was that sharing the information with the girls sometimes eased their minds and nerves.

Knowing what was coming was usually better than the unknown. Even if the team had a reputation for being better than them, Owen could find something for his girls to feel better about. Maybe their center couldn't jump as high, or their forward had a weak layup. Even the small things could give them positive vibes.

"This team is good. It won't be a walk in the park today, so I hope you're all well-rested."

"Shoot. Is it ever a walk in the park?" Lia asked.

He chuckled. "One thing I want to warn you about is their audience. I went to an away game to watch them play and they had fans—a lot of fans—cheering and jeering loudly. Don't let them get to you."

Malik returned pushing the bin of balls. "I think we got that covered tonight."

Owen turned to look at him. Malik lifted his chin to point toward the gym entrance. There was a line of people waiting to get in to watch the game. At first glance, it looked like at least half of them were wearing their team colors. They normally had a decent turnout of parents and friends at games to cheer the girls on, especially since they'd been winning. But the line at the door was beyond the norm.

"How?" Owen asked.

"You should know by now, Coach, that we have big mouths. Word spreads. You're not the only one who can do some recon."

Sure enough, as the girls started their drills, middle school and high school boys were leading the way to show people where to sit for the game. The opposing team arrived, and Owen introduced himself. Sandra came through with a smile and a nod. She greeted each of the girls by name and wished them good luck.

By the time they were ready to start the game, the bleachers were filled, and Malik was adding chairs along the walls. The cheering was thunderous when his team scored their first basket. He had a hard time calling out directions past the lump in his throat. This was proof of why the center was so important to the neighborhood.

As Keisha broke away dribbling down center court, a flash of movement by the door caught his eye. He looked toward the entrance. Evelyn was here. She didn't come to games too often. She wasn't into sports. But she came to support him. She tried to find a spot on the bleachers, but ultimately just ended up standing.

The whole time he coached, he was keenly aware of her presence. She wasn't a distraction, really. It was more like he wanted to show her that he was okay after the call yesterday at work. If he could show her that the call didn't affect him as much as she thought, they would go back to normal.

She'd caught him in a weak moment last night, and he'd needed her presence to recover from what had happened. He didn't like relying on other people to feel better. He'd always managed to get his shit together on his own after a tough call. But last night, when Evelyn was standing in front of him, concerned for his well-being, he was hit with a strong urge to seek comfort from her.

Which was totally inappropriate.

So he'd coach the hell out of this game to show her yesterday was no big deal. He didn't need her to worry about him. Because doing so might irrevocably change their relationship.

…

Evelyn wasn't even completely sure what caused her to show up at Owen's basketball game. She didn't like sports, but after last night, part of her wanted to make sure he was okay. She'd never seen him so shaken up by a call at work. Then again, she rarely knew about the tough calls. It finally occurred to her that Owen typically avoided her after a call like that.

Which made her wonder how he handled it.

Bottling up that much emotion was not healthy. But watching him coach in this earsplittingly loud gym was nothing short of amazing. The yelling and screaming might give her a headache, but it didn't seem to affect Owen or his team at all.

She understood some of the rules of basketball, so she could follow what the girls were doing, but when Owen was waving his hands and yelling what she assumed were directions, she couldn't hear him and had no idea what it all meant. When a girl from the other team practically ran over one of Owen's girls, he rushed to the court to check on her. After she stood, looking no worse for the wear—and offering the offending girl a nasty glare—Owen turned on the ref and the opposing coach. He was not having any of it.

She still couldn't hear what he was saying, but in her head his voice rang clear as he stood up for his player.

Evelyn had never had a thing for athletes, or coaches, for that matter, but watching this side of Owen was pretty hot. His protective streak was more of a turn-on than she'd expected.

For the rest of the game, she spent more time watching him than she did the players. Occasionally, he looked over and smiled at her. He was back to normal, the Owen she could always count on, with no sign of the distress from yesterday. Maybe she was blowing it all out of proportion.

Owen and his girls won the game in the last few seconds. The crowd went wild, and Owen's team surrounded him. They took a few minutes to high-five with big smiles before he pointed them in the direction of the other team, who were lined up to congratulate them.

As she watched the entire thing play out, Evelyn realized that this was yet another family that Owen had created for himself. He had pockets of people who cared about him everywhere. How exactly do I fit in?

Jamal had told her that she was one of them, but she wasn't. His family treated her like she was one of them, but she wasn't. And the kids at the center were completely removed from her. She and Owen were best friends, but what exactly did that mean? He talked about the kids, so she was familiar with them, but she didn't have a place here.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice Owen coming up on her. Suddenly she was being swept off her feet in a big circle.

"I'm glad you made it. This was a big win."

"Congratulations. It was an awesome game." She patted his shoulder. "You can put me down now."

The look on his face said he hadn't considered how his display would appear to everyone else. He took her hand. "Come for pizza with us to celebrate?"

"You sure?"

"About what? Pizza? Pizza is best way to celebrate with kids—cheap and easy. They eat a lot."

"No," she answered with a smile. "I mean about me tagging along. Shouldn't you be hanging with your team?"

"Of course you can eat with us. Most of the families are coming. You're my family."

For a guy who didn't like to talk much, his words smoothed out the questions and concerns that had been bouncing around in her head for the last hour.

She might not have much of her own family, but if Owen was willing to share his, she'd take it.

…

Friday morning, Owen got off work and took a nap before going to pick up his rented tuxedo. If Evelyn kept dragging his ass to these fancy events, he might have to invest in a tux of his own. Normally, on Fridays, Evelyn tried to get off work a little early, but with the award ceremony and the follow-up episode, she'd said she was going to work late.

He hadn't seen her since she'd stopped by to watch the basketball game. He'd loved having her with him and the team, when they'd gone out for pizza, but he missed his time alone with her. He texted her to see if she wanted to go out for dinner tonight.

As much as I'd love to, I can't.

Working late?

Yeah, but then I'm meeting a friend for drinks.

A friend. No name. That burrowed into Owen's nerves. Evelyn had a date.

Okay. Have fun. See you tomorrow.

See you then.

The conversation irritated Owen in an irrational way. He knew Evelyn dated. She'd said as much. But then she said she wasn't actively looking. What the heck was this then? And why not just say she had a date?

He flipped through the contacts in his phone. He had women to call. Tara was usually up for a good time. He scrolled to her name and paused. There was a reason why he'd said no to plans with Tara to be with Evelyn.

He wasn't a hundred percent sure what that reason was, but it was there. Tara was sexual release with little emotional connection. She was nice, but there was nothing else there. Evelyn was everything else. Which was why her date tonight irritated him. He felt like they'd been working toward something. Something that would make her dating bug him. They obviously weren't on the same page.

Instead of a hookup, he opted to go for a run with his other best friend. Probie scrambled as soon as he heard the leash. He knelt and rubbed his dog. "Yeah, boy. Who needs women?"

After a three-mile run, Owen didn't feel any better. He was still thinking about women. First, Evelyn, wondering what was happening on her date. Then Nina and all the things she'd said about Evelyn. How Evelyn would never be satisfied living life like he did. She would want the whole package with one guy.

He took a quick shower and called his brother. "Want to go out for a few beers?"

"Uh…it's Friday night."

"Yeah. So?" He paused. "Wait. Does Alicia tie up all of your Friday nights because you're about to get married? Doesn't she know she has a whole lifetime for that?"

Dave laughed. "Alicia's not even home. She's having a girls' night."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There is no problem. I figured if you weren't working, you'd either be on a date or with Evelyn."

Owen grunted. "I do have more to my life than getting laid and hanging out with Evelyn."

"Really? Have you started doing those things together? 'Cause that would free up some time."

"No. I'm not sleeping with my best friend." Why does everyone think he and Evelyn should be fucking? "Do you want to go out or not?"

"Tell me where."

They met up at a sports bar in between their houses. Although they saw each other pretty often, it was usually at family things. Especially since he'd proposed to Alicia. Owen missed hanging out with his brother. "How are the wedding plans?" he asked.

Dave shrugged. "Alicia is doing all the planning. She just tells me where to send the money."

"It's your wedding, too."

"The wedding is important to her. I'd be happy with a judge and my family."

"I thought she was keeping it small."

"She thought by making it a destination wedding, it would be small. But word travels, and people want to come to the wedding and turn it into a vacation."

"How many people?"

"Still not huge. I think she said fifty?"

They sat in silence for a while, watching the baseball game on the huge TVs.

"What's on your mind?" Dave asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I like seeing you, but it's not like you to call to have beers. You obviously have something you want to talk about or ask me, so out with it."

"As someone with a semi-objective opinion, why do you think my marriage to Stacy didn't work?"

"Because she cheated on you," Dave said as if Owen had lost every brain cell in his body.

"I don't need you to state the obvious. But it didn't just happen. Obviously, something was lacking. I didn't see the signs." He took a drink of beer. Then added, "And don't question my skills in the bedroom. I've never had any complaints."

Dave shook his head. "Stacy was…I don't know…flighty? Insecure? You were gone a lot. She didn't know what to do with herself. A person can only do so much sitting around waiting and wondering."

Owen thought about it. Back then, he'd taken on every extra shift he could. He'd wanted to provide them with a good life. Stacy had complained about the hours he put in on the job. He just kept promising that it wouldn't be forever. Maybe if she'd had her own things to do… Besides another man. But when he was around, she'd complained they hadn't done exciting stuff together. He'd had enough excitement at work, so at home he wanted calm.

No matter what he did, it hadn't been enough. At every turn, he'd felt like a failure. He'd wanted to give Stacy everything, but he couldn't quite get there.

He'd never talked about work, because it made her worry too much. They didn't have hobbies together. Outside of sex, the connection hadn't been there. Had he not tried hard enough to forge that connection?

"What made you think about that?" Dave asked, bringing him back to the present.

"Something a friend mentioned. She said that Evelyn would want to get married again, or at least have a serious relationship. It got me wondering why I haven't found one."

"You haven't tried."

He couldn't argue that point. Early on after the divorce, he had, but since he'd forged his friendship with Evelyn, not really.

"I like my life. It's full. I have sex when I want it. I have a great job and good friends. I love my time at the youth center."

"Companionship. If you're getting it from your friends, maybe you don't need the serious relationship."

He remembered what Evelyn said about having someone to come home to. Right now, when he felt that need, she was there. But for how long?