Chapter Twenty-Five

Reeve

I pull up to Oakley's house, my heart racing as I park behind Keely's car and glance up the stairs nestled against the garage that I assume lead to her studio apartment. With the cold, overcast fall day, it's nice to see the warm glow of the lights on in her apartment.

It's been a couple of days since the team and I arrived back from our away games. I've been meaning to make it over here sooner but with me back on the ice, I've been training as much as Coach Bex will allow and then I'm back to my apartment to ice my knee. It still swells up after a long day of practice, but I'll take a freezing ice pack, over warming a bench any day.

"Hey there," I hear Oakley call out, standing on a ladder and scooping out leaves from his house gutters. "Are you here to see Keely?"

"Yeah. And I bought that TV you told me she didn't have. Can you help me take it up the stairs?" I ask.

"On my way," he says and starts coming down the ladder.

While out of town I had a nagging feeling that I needed to do something for her new apartment. A housewarming present—a "congrats on the new job" gift—a "thank you for getting me back on the ice"… I wanted to get her something big enough to cover all of that. I knew if I asked her what she needed for the apartment, she'd tell me not to spend my money, but I have more money than I can spend and she deserves it. So I went over her head and asked Oakley what she still needed for the apartment.

He said that she doesn't have a TV yet and since I know she likes those documentaries that we watch together, I figured it was the best choice. Plus, with a TV, it's not like trying to pick out a couch for her— it's not likely I'll pick the wrong size, color or style.

Smart TV—black—flatscreen— sixty inches… done.

The stairs creak slightly under our feet as we ascend up the stairs, me walking backward all the way up while Oakley follows behind, gripping the other end of the television box.

"Had to buy the biggest one you could find, huh?" he says with a playful huff.

It's not heavy and not even close to the biggest TV in the store. It might be big for a studio apartment, but I wanted it to be big enough for her to see from her bed. Though I just about drop my side of the TV when I think about Jaxson being in that bed with her.

We finally make it up to the landing and it's surprisingly big enough for me and the TV but not Oakley.

"I got it from here if you want to get back to your project before it starts raining again. Thanks for your help," I tell him, knowing that I can pull the TV into the apartment the rest of the way.

"No problem. And hey, I'm throwing my annual Thanksgiving dinner at Oakley's. Seven, Lake, and the girls are coming along with some friends—should be a good turnout. We've got room if you want to come by."

"I might take you up on that."

He pats the TV box and then turns to head back down the stairs.

I hesitate for a moment before knocking, my knuckles rapping softly against the wooden door. There's a shuffling sound from inside, and then the door swings open.

Keely stands there, her auburn hair in a messy bun and wearing comfortable clothes - yoga pants and… my hoodie. I didn't realize that she still had it.

Her eyes go wide in surprise, pulling my hoodie up higher around her neck as a chill breeze whips past us and through the door "Reeve? What are you doing here?"

I can't help but smile at her reaction. "Hey, Doc. I wanted to see your new place. And I brought you something."

I gesture at the large TV box next to me.

"You bought me a giant TV?" she asks, staring down at the box, her eyebrow arched.

"Oakley said you didn't have one and I didn't want you missing out on any of that series we've been watching."

She steps back, gesturing for me to come in. "That was really thoughtful, thank you. Do you need help with that?"

There's a handle cut out on the side of the box, so I slide my hand in and pull it with me through her door.

"No, I got it."

The apartment is small but cozy. The scent of fresh paint lingers in the air, mixed with a hint of vanilla - probably from the candle flickering on a nearby shelf. I take in the space, noticing how she's already made it her own with a few personal touches.

I take notice of the bed in the corner, tucked behind one wall. The bed is made so there's no way to see if both sides are being used. The one thing I do notice that stands out? The baby monitor is perched on one of the end tables.

"This is nice," I say, turning back to face her. "How are you settling in?"

Keely shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's coming along. And it's a perfect spot since it's just me."

"Just me."

The words hang in the air between us. I want to ask if "just me" is because she's the only one who lives here? Or if it means also that no one comes to visit. Like soccer-playing surgeons who can't keep their eyes off of her.

We chat for a few minutes about work and the team, but there's an underlying tension that wasn't there before. It's like we're both hyper-aware of every word, every movement. I can't keep my attention off of her in my hoodie.

"What?" she asks when she sees me staring at the way the sweatshirt swallows her up.

"You still have it," I say, gesturing to the black hoodie with the Hawkeyes team logo over the front.

"Oh…" She glances down at the baggy material. "I forgot I was wearing this. It's the most comfortable thing in my closet," her eyes flash up to mine. "You probably want it back."

She reaches to pull it off her body but I put my hand against her arm to stop her.

"No, it's fine. Keep it. It was my backup, and I like knowing that you wear it."

She seems relieved to not have to give it back to me and I like the idea of her wrapped up in something of mine.

Finally, I remember the other thing I brought with me. I pull the baby monitor out of my jacket pocket. "I almost forgot. I wanted to return this to you."

Keely looks at the monitor, then back at me. A mischievous glint appears in her eye. "You know what? Why don't you keep it? As a memento of our time together."

I raise an eyebrow. "A memento?"

She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Yeah, you know. To remember your time as my patient. Your journey back to the ice."

I turn the monitor over in my hands, remembering all the late-night conversations we had through it. All the times her voice comforted me when the pain was bad. "Is that why your monitor is still sitting on your nightstand?"

She whips her head over toward the bedroom. "Oh… I didn't even know I put it there. I must have set it there while I was unpacking and didn't think about what I was doing."

She did it subconsciously. She automatically thought to keep it close by her bedside. "Right. Thanks, Keeks. I'll keep it safe."

We stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between us. I can hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment, marking the passing seconds.

"Well," I finally say, "I should probably get going. Let you get back to settling in."

Keely nods, walking me to the door. "Thanks for stopping by Reeve. And for the monster-sized TV."

I twist the knob on the front door and step out. It's only sixty inches. The TV in my apartment would eat hers for breakfast. "It's not that big," I say.

"Don't sell yourself short, Aisa," she teases with a wink, leaning against the door.

As I step outside, the cool evening air hits my face. I turn back to her, taking in her silhouette framed by the warm light from inside. "There's nothing short about it. I'll see you around?"

She smiles softly. "Yeah, I'll see you around."

As I walk back to my car, the baby monitor feels heavy in my pocket. A memento, she called it.

I climb into my car and sit there for a moment, staring at the lit window of Keely's apartment. With a sigh, I start the engine and drive away.

It never gets easier leaving her behind.

The drive back to the apartment had my head reeling and the only thing that helps when I need to work through something, is to skate. I pull into the Hawkeyes parking lot instead.

It's late when I push through the doors of the stadium, the cleaning crew making their usual rounds.

I notice Coach Bex's light is still on in his office as I pass by, then I see a familiar face coming out of his office and slamming it as she exits.

Rowan.

She doesn't see me yet and she mumbles a string of curse words.

"Ms. Summers," I call out.

She looks up in shock to see me on the other side of the hallway.

"Reeve, I didn't think anyone else was here tonight."

"You okay? T-Rex swinging around those short little arms again?" I ask.

She chuckles and then shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "He's impossible. We'll never see eye to eye because he refuses to believe that I'm not looking for a hidden angle."

"Is he right?" I ask.

Her eyes search mine for a second. "Can I ask you something?"

"Is it off the record?" I tease, though I'd like everything to stay off the record.

"Oh, this is so far off the record it will never see the light of day as long as I have something to say about it. But I think you'll want to know, and since you were candid with me about Coach Bex a while back, I feel like I owe it to tell you."

I don't like the fact that her smile fades. Whatever this is, it doesn't sound good.

"Do you know who Oakley Humphries' brother is? Barrett Humphries?" she asks.

"Barrett who?"

I know Oakley has mentioned that he had one brother but as far as I know, they don't talk and he's been in prison for years, though I don't think I ever heard of the reason why.

"I started digging into Keely's background and her family. My boss thinks that the story of you saving Keely and then her becoming your PT is the feel-good story that he wants out in front of the longer story I'm doing about the Hawkeyes. But when I looked her up, all the basic stuff came up—where she went to high school, where she got her doctorate and the ACL she tore in middle school. Most reporters would have enough to use to fill their quota but then I heard that Humphries is the family name, not Woods."

It just now dawns on me that Rowan is right… Keely's last name is Woods, not Humphries. But if Keely is the daughter of Oakley's brother, she would have the Humphries name.

"Leave Keely alone," I tell her.

Whatever information she found, she needs to un-find it because I don't like the way Rowan is looking at me.

"I'm just doing my job, Reeve."

"Then stop doing it," I say, pushing past her, back down toward the hall.

"Keely's dad is the same man who did fifteen years for racketeering the World Cup for the mob—Barrett Humphries. Woods is her mother's name," she calls out behind me.

I stop and turn back toward her. "That was her dad? Keely told you this?"

"No, but she told me at Serendipity's Coffee Shop with the girls that a relationship with her could kill your career."

"She said that?"

Keely suggesting that we can't date because of us working together never made sense. She knew that the Hawkeyes don't care about people inside the organization dating as long as HR knows about it and there was always a part of me that thought there might have been something more to it than what she was telling me.

Rowan nods. "And I thought she was exaggerating until I did a lot of digging. No other reporter would have found this out. If you ask me, a lot of the information was erased about her dad. I couldn't have figured it out without knowing Oakley's last name and Keely prompting me to dig deeper," she says. "It might be my best work yet."

"Rowan—" I warn.

"Don't worry. No one will figure this one out and I have no plans of telling a soul except you."

"Why only me?"

"Because these girls are becoming my friends and I will protect each of them for as long as I can… and because it's obvious to me that Keely is holding herself back from being with you, and I believe this is the real reason why."

"How do you know that she wants to be with me?"

I want her to tell me that Keely confessed it all to her, but I know that's pushing my luck. Though I'm furious about Keely for keeping us apart for this reason, I'll be relieved if this is the thing keeping us apart.

"I'm a reporter Aisa, I look for the things people don't want me to find… like their true feelings."