Kulti

In the month that followed Franz’s admission, life seemed to strap a jetpack to itself and take off in every direction, both the good and the bad.

Pipers practice went on as normal, or at least as relatively normal as possible. Going back after I found out what Cordero was planning was tough, really tough. I was a horrible liar with an itty bitty temper that desperately wanted to make an appearance. How could I face these people like nothing was wrong? How could I make it seem like I wasn’t dying a little inside while planning my escape?

It was hard. We had advanced to the first round of the playoffs. I was resentful and angry, and my emotions hadn’t wavered at all. The worst aspect of being so bitter was the part of me that held my ego above winning. Pride told me I shouldn’t give a single crap how the rest of the season went. The reasonable half of me that didn’t get sappy right before my period, said that I had no business thinking that way. I needed the Pipers to do well.

Everything was wrapped up together now. I’d spoken with my agent and asked her to discreetly see if we could find a spot for me somewhere else in Europe—specifically the teams Kulti and Franz had suggested that afternoon at his house. She’d been more excited than I could have imagined, and within two weeks sent me an email telling me there were three teams interested in speaking with me.

I talked to my parents on the phone and told them everything. The first thing out of my dad’s mouth before he told me he had plenty of airline miles to visit Europe was, “Este cabron.” This bitch, referring to Cordero. After that, I called my brother where he proceeded to chew me out for being friends with the German, and then offered to help me find a place to live, followed by a passing “fuck them,” referring to the WPL. We ended the conversation with me critiquing his latest game.

Then there were the emails, the phone calls and the reporters.

Why people even cared about the pictures that popped up of Kulti and I during the youth camp blew my mind. Four youth camps worth of cell phone pictures taken by parents, teachers and students, flooded both gossip and Kulti fan sites. Shots of us smiling, laughing, a few with his arm around me or with blurred faces of kids between us, were being sent to me by my dad who thought it was the coolest freaking thing ever. I on the other hand, was only slightly horrified by the attention.

‘A LOVE AFFAIR ON THE FIELD,’ was the last headline he’d sent me with stars in the subject.

Before that had been, ‘KULTI’S EX WANTS HIM BACK’ and, ‘KULTI CAUGHT WITH PLAYER.’

“How long have you been dating?” became the question I dreaded hearing the most in the world.

Honestly, it was only thinking about my dad and knowing he was probably egging on the rumors in his circle of friends that kept me from actually commenting. I could die tomorrow knowing I hadn’t done a single thing wrong. There wasn’t anything to weigh down my conscience.

I stopped talking to members of the media who asked. I stopped checking my email nearly all together once I received a message in Italian along the lines of you’re an ugly bitch and I hope you die. I also only answered calls from numbers saved in my phone.

I didn’t say anything to the German, because what was the point? No one was threatening to kill me. I was also partially concerned he would overreact and blow it out of proportion.

Overall things were fine.

Until they weren’t.

We were in Florida for the first playoff game when it happened.

I was standing near the Jacksonville Shields’ goal with a few other players from both teams, crowded together to wait out the winner of a battle for the ball, when Grace managed to steal it away. We were tied zero to zero and well into the second half. Someone needed to score.

I waited and waited. I watched the veteran Piper move the ball around and kept up my vigilance to see who stood close enough to accept a pass at a moment’s notice. I’d been playing with Grace long enough to recognize her body language and what she wanted to do. There was an opening between us but the distance was a problem. Obviously there was only one thing to do, and I was ready.

She kicked the ball up high. I braced for it and watched it fly right at me.

It was going to be a header, definitely. Head meet ball, ball meet another player with a better shot at the goal. It was one of my favorite moves.

I went for it; I jumped straight into the air as a version of my lifelong friend and enemy, the ball, continued its trajectory toward me. Someone elbowed me right in the boob, but I ignored the pain. I could sense people moving around nearby.

I was going to get it. I was going to get it.

Later on, I would realize that I didn’t get it.

The last thing I was aware of was the sharp pain that cracked the back of my head.

….

….

Sal!

Casillas!

Schnecke!

Goddamnit!

Schnecke!

SCHNECKE!

….

….

I didn’t even know I’d gotten knocked out until I opened my eyes and found myself on my back, staring up at Kulti’s face, whose eyes were maybe two inches above mine.

Kulti’s breath washed over my mouth, ragged and uneven. His face full of an expression I wasn’t remotely familiar with. And his eyes….

“Move back! Move!” someone yelled from nearby, and I found myself blinking, trying to remember what the hell happened.

A second before Kulti was pushed away by two paramedics, he squeezed my hand. I hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it.

“Overnight?”

The doctor smiled at me. “Yes, overnight. We just want to be on the safe side with your medical history.”

This wasn’t my first or my second concussion. It also didn’t help that the player who had elbowed the daylights out of me, was twice my size and had an arm that would have given a professional bodybuilder a boner. If I was going to get knocked out, at least it had been by a girl like Melanie Matthews, the second most aggressive defender in the WPL after Harlow. My concussion was practically a badge of honor.

“All right.” I didn’t sigh because it would have made me move half an inch and that was more than I wanted to. She really had knocked the shit out of me.

“Excellent. The nurse will be in here to check on you. The call button is to your left if you need anything.”

Unfortunately or fortunately, however you wanted to look at it, this wasn’t my first stay in the hospital. Knee surgeries, ankle surgeries and that one time I got pneumonia had all landed me an overnight stay. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“Your team rep is outside, I’ll let her in,” the doctor said.

“Thank you,” I called out to his retreating figure loud enough that it made my head buzz with pain.

By some miracle, they had given me a room to myself. My best guess was that it was the Pipers insurance that provided it, so I wasn’t going to complain at all.

A knock came at the door, but it didn’t open until I called out. Sheena’s head popped through the door before she swung it open and came in. “Sal, how are you feeling?” she asked, a small plant in her hands. She’d been the one who had ridden over in the ambulance with me after they’d carried me off the field like I’d broken my spine.

“I’m all right,” I told her. “I feel like I’ve been beaten with a sledgehammer, but it’s okay.”

She smiled and set the plant on the rolling table next to the bed. “I’m happy to hear that. What did the doctor say?”

“It’s a concussion, but since it isn’t my first one they want to keep me overnight to be on the safe side.”

Sheena let out a slow whistle. “You gave us a scare. That’s for sure. Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m fine, but do you think you can have someone bring me my bag or at least ask Jenny if she can keep it for me? It’s in the locker room.”

“Sure, Sal. No problem,” she agreed.

Then I asked her the question I’d been wondering about for the last two hours. “Do you know if we won?”

“We did. Genevieve scored in the last three minutes.”

Well at least this crap hadn’t been in vain. “That’s great,” I said.

“It sure is. She’s the next generation, isn’t she?”

The next generation. She was only five years younger than me, for the love of crap. It wasn’t like I was about to croak or needed to invest in a wheelchair anytime soon, jeez.

“Yeah, she is,” I gritted out, annoyed. I wondered if she knew what Cordero was planning.

We looked at each other awkwardly, at a loss for what else to say.

She smiled and glanced at the door. “Well, if there’s not anything else, I should head back now. I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

“I’ll leave my number on the pad over here in case you need me, and I’ll make sure your bag gets picked up,” she assured.

I somehow smiled using only the minimal amount of facial muscles. “Thanks, Sheena.”

She left, and I sat there in the quiet room alone, finally letting myself think about how much this concussion sucked ass. I knew what was going to happen. They were going to make me sit out of practice, and at least one game depending on what the doctor suggested and what the Pipers’ trainer decided.

I would have hung my head low except I knew it would be painful. Sure I didn’t want to die; I understood how important it was to put my health first. But when it came down to it, this was the last thing I freaking needed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Ugh.

One minute of wallowing was what I usually allowed myself. I made the most of it.

As soon as the sixty seconds were over, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was lucky my injury wasn’t worse. I could have died, right? In the end, this concussion wasn’t the end of the world.

Then I reached over and grabbed the phone next to the bed, even though it made me a little dizzy; I dialed my mom’s number first. When she didn’t answer, I left her a voicemail, and then called my dad who I knew would have been watching the game at home. Dad could have been in church and still found a way to watch my game. He always did.

“Hello?” he practically shouted into the phone.

“Dad, it’s me, Sal.”

That time he did yell, away from the phone at least, saying something that sounded like “It’s her!” in Spanish. “Are you okay?” he asked in that worried tone only fathers were capable of.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just a concussion,” I assured him.

He spat out some more curse words in Spanish, and I could faintly hear my mom in the background telling him to control himself. “I almost fainted, you can ask your mom,” he exaggerated. “You’re really okay? No brain damage?”

“No brain damage, I promise I’m all right. I wanted to call and tell you before you booked a plane ticket here. I’ll survive.”

Dad let out an audible exhale. “Gracias a Dios. You get that hardhead from your mother—“

Mom screeched something in the background, and I had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Save your jokes for tomorrow. I don’t have my phone on me, but I’ll make sure to call you as soon as I get my things back. If you need anything, I’m staying at the…” I looked around and gave him the name of the hospital printed on the whiteboard in front of the bed. “I really am okay though, so don’t worry, and tell Mom I tried to call her but she didn’t answer.”

“Si, esta bien. Call me as soon as they release you. I love you. If you need me, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I smiled on the other end. “Thanks, Dad. Love you. Bye.”

My dad said goodbye in return and we hung up.

With nothing else to do, I turned on the television and watched what was left of a movie about house-sized tarantulas. About an hour later, a few knocks tapped at the door before I heard who could only be Harlow and Jenny arguing on the other side. They, and by ‘they’ I meant Harlow, didn’t wait for me to welcome them inside. The defender pushed the door open and strolled in the room, followed by Jenny and three of my other teammates.

Har looked around the room. “This is fancy.”

“Hi, Har, Jenny.” I greeted the other girls that came along with them too.

Jenny came to sit on the bed with big bright eyes. “You scared the devil out of me.” She grabbed my hand gently. “I thought you were dead.”

Harlow chuffed as she sat by my feet and let the other girls take the chairs. “I knew you were fine.”

“They told us you have a concussion,” one of the girls said.

“A moderate one,” I told them.

The wince was visible around the room. They all knew what it meant and none of them tried to feed me kind words. The situation sucked.

“Yeah, it blows.” I sighed. “I’m not even going to bother asking if I’m playing the next game, it’ll just piss me off when they tell me, ‘no’ to my face.”

Jenny squeezed my hand. “What matters is that you’re okay. Did they make sure you don’t have any hemorrhaging?”

How could you not smile at that?

The girls stayed for almost an hour, making me smile and fight back laughs as we joked around about random things that had nothing to do with the Pipers. They finally promised to see me the next day, if I was on time for the flight, and Jenny assured me she had taken my things back to our room. As they got up and started to head out, Harlow leaned in and whispered, “You want me to do something about Mel?”

Oh dear God.

I patted her cheek and totally lost it. “No, Har. It’s all right. Thank you.”

She eyed me. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Thanks though, I really do appreciate it.”

Harlow eyed me suspiciously as she walked out, as if expecting me to change my mind and ask her to exact vengeance on my behalf. I suddenly realized I wouldn’t just be leaving the Pipers. For the first time since I’d decided I didn’t have any choice but to go somewhere else, the reality of leaving two of my closest friends for the last few years really got to me.

Having to make new friends and get in well with new teammates wasn’t that daunting. I’d done it over and over again throughout my life, but if I stayed with the WPL, I wouldn’t get to play with them anymore anyway, would I?

I swallowed the melancholy down and reminded myself that I needed to do what was best for me. Right.

“Knock, knock,” Gardner called out in the middle of pushing the door open.

“Come in,” I called out.

His graying head was the first thing I noticed. He was still wearing the same suit and tie from the game.

I kept an eye on the door expecting Kulti to come in after him, but there was no one there. Well, that was disappointing.

“I’m happy to see your head is still attached,” he said gently, taking a seat.

I smiled at him, only halfway feeling it. Since the Franz thing, I hadn’t been sure how to act around Gardner. I doubted he knew, and I especially doubted that he had anything to do with their decision to trade me, but there was no way to know for sure. “Hey, thanks for coming.”

“I had to come check on you, kid. Phyllis and everyone else send their best wishes.” But they hadn’t wanted to come. Okay. It wasn’t like I wanted them to visit anyway. “How are you feeling?”

I shrugged my shoulders lightly. “Fine. A little frustrated, but it’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different from you.” He grinned.

“Tell me how the game went,” I asked.

Gardner only stayed for a bit. He kept eyeing his watch until he finally sat up straight. “I need to get going, there’s a few things I need to do before we leave tomorrow. The hospital staff knows to give me a ring once they know for sure when you’re getting released, but give me a call too so that we have someone here to pick you up.”

“Write your number down for me, will you? Jenny has my cell.”

He jotted it down on the same paper Sheena had used earlier. “Feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He left, and I was alone again.

I didn’t let myself think of Kulti, and why he hadn’t come to check on me yet.

I watched more television, had a visit from a nurse, and finally gave up hope that the German was coming to check on me around eight o’clock. I mean, we were just friends. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything. Plus, I’m sure he’d found out from someone else that I was fine.

I got off the bed and headed to the bathroom where I showered, put on the same underwear and scrubs they’d let me wear since I’d declined a gown, and went back out. The instant the bathroom door opened, I knew someone else was in the room. I could see the green and black running shoes on the mattress.

Sure enough, in the chair closest to the bed, was a surly scowling German with his feet propped up, a fruit bouquet on his lap and remote on the armrest. The television was set to the Sports Network. Kulti’s head, the hair still as closely cut as always, turned slowly in my direction. “Taco,” he greeted me.

“Berlin.” I rounded the chair and went to sit on the edge of the bed, facing him. Kulti’s lids were low as he regarded my face, plucking a piece of star-shaped pineapple from the big bouquet on his lap. He didn’t look amused or particularly happy to see me either. “What’s your problem?” I asked him when he continued staring.

He crossed one foot over the other, put a strawberry in his mouth, and kept right on scrutinizing me.

All right. I eyed what was left of the fruit. “Did you bring that for me?”

Those green-brown eyes stayed steady as he took a piece of kale, put it between his lips and chewed.

When I stuck my hand out to pluck a chocolate-covered strawberry, he moved the bouquet out of my reach.

“Seriously?”

He blinked.

“What’s up your butt?” I asked.

He swallowed the kale in his mouth and kept his face even. “I called you.”

It was my turn to blink. “I was too busy being carted out on a stretcher to drop by the locker room and grab my phone,” I deadpanned.

“I see.” He put a piece of pineapple in his mouth.

“Is that why you’re mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Rey, I’m not blind. You’re pissed off. Just tell me what you’re mad about. The team won.”

Kulti turned, set the arrangement on the table behind him, and sat back sniffling drily. His eyes flicked up to the television screen, and his nostrils flared as he tipped his chin up. “Look.”

I had to turn my entire body toward the television mounted up on the wall. The two familiar anchors for Sports Room were going through their highlights of the day. I caught the end of number four: an amazing double play during a baseball game.

“Number three today is from a Women’s Professional League game. Sal Casillas, of the Houston Pipers took the term ‘header’ to a different level during a second round playoff game.”

The clip began with me jumping, surrounded by three opposing players. It showed Melanie, the girl who had elbowed me, circling around at the last minute and jumping up high too. Then it happened.

Holy crap, my head hurt at the replay of her arm shooting back and my head snapping forward, followed by the shot of me crumbling to the ground like I was dead.

“Oooh,” one of the anchor’s disembodied voice filled in the action. “That hurt me.”

The footage kept going, showing Melanie being shoved away by Harlow as a referee ran up to see what was happening. Out of the corner of the screen, two male bodies were seen running onto the field, one overpowering the other in less than a second, long legs pumping faster and faster in a sprint that could have set a world record. The man slid to his knees across the turf, hunching over the body—me—on the ground.

“Now you know it’s bad when Reiner Kulti is on the field checking on his player,” the other anchor said in a mocking voice.

The scene changed to another clip just as the camera zoomed in on Kulti grabbing my hand, placing his free palm right next to my head. His mouth opened, and his face was distressed…

That warm fuzzy feeling I associated with the German when he was at his nicest, pulsed through my veins.

“Don’t you ever pass out on the goddamn field again.”

I turned my body back to face Kulti, who was sitting there looking unbelievably uncomfortable. “You were worried about me.” I pressed my lips together. It wasn’t the right time to smile, so I wouldn’t.

Part of me expected him to explode, but the creepy controlled tone he used was even worse than the vicious temper hidden in that fantastic body. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You were the last one to come visit me,” I told him in a low voice.

His head jerked back, a scowl on his face. “I made myself go for a run to calm down enough so I wouldn’t show up here and yell at you. I wanted to wring your neck, Sal.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” I wasn’t sure whether to think this was funny, sweet or annoying because it seemed like he was pretty much blaming me for being in Melanie’s way. “I thought you’d be proud of me for surviving getting hit by a player that size.”

Then he went for it, and I just sat there and took it. “You scared the hell out of me!”

An image of a lion with a thorn in his paw flicked through my head and by some miracle I didn’t smile. “You’re yelling,” I stated very calmly, eating up his reaction.

“Of course I’m yelling! I was yelling at you when you were pretending to be dead on the field, taking ten years off my life,” he snapped, his face going red at the cheeks. “I thought—” he shot me a sharp look that almost alarmed me. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I’m too young to die of a heart attack.”

Holy crap, he’d really been worried. I loved it. I loved it so much I snorted despite the sharp pain that spiked through my head. “I would say claiming you’re too young is a bit debatable, don’t you think?”

The German tilted his head up and cursed something low and long in German. “You were brought to this planet to give me an ulcer, weren’t you?”

Oh my God. That made me burst out laughing which hurt like hell because my poor head felt so tender, but I couldn’t stop and I didn’t want to.

“Why are you laughing? I’m not making a joke.”

My whole body was shaking as I laughed, but somehow I managed to wheeze out, “You make it sound like I was sent from an alien planet to ruin your life. Jesus, Rey. Don’t say stuff like that right now, my head hurts too much.”

“Stop that,” he demanded. “You’re going to make it worse.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and made myself calm down. It took longer than necessary for me to get it together, but I managed. Eventually. Finally sobered up, I smiled at him, coughing with the laughter left over in me. “It really means the world to me that you got all riled up worrying over me. “ I couldn’t stop smiling.

And he noticed. “This isn’t meant to be funny. Why are you smiling?”

“Because.”

“What?”

I rolled my lips over my teeth and gave him an even look. “I watched this one game where your teammate, Keller, got tackled and had four of his vertebrae dislocated. The camera zoomed in on you, and you were retying your cleats or something. I don’t know why I just remembered that. Two of my favorite things about you were that you never gave a single shit what happened to anyone else on the field, and that you never missed games unless you couldn’t walk. It’s impressive, really. It makes me feel really special that you care about me.”

“I care about things,” he argued.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Winning.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Okay.”

“My fish.”

His fish. Jesus Christ.

Kulti blinked slowly and didn’t say anything for a long time even as I made sure to keep watching him with an expectant look on his face. When he finally answered, it caught me off-guard.

“You.”

Me.

Wait. Me?

I’m pretty sure I was beaming down to my soul. The words just kind of came out of me, unrestrained and unblemished. “Your friendship means the world to me, too you know.”

He didn’t break eye contact as he reached back and grabbed the fruit arrangement, finally deciding to share. I took it from him and looked it over, taking a chocolate-covered strawberry off in the process of my inspection. “Did you get a discount on this?”

“No.” He paused. “Why?”

I slanted a look at him before taking a bite of the berry. “Half of the fruit is missing.”

He reached forward and took a grape that was being used as a flower-shaped pineapple’s stigma. “Nothing is missing. I ate it.”

This man. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from laughing. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

An hour or so passed, and he still hadn’t left by the time the next nurse came in to check on me. “Ms. Casillas, how are you—“

The poor lady shut her mouth, her eyes widening at the sight of the German sitting in the chair with his feet right next to mine. Her swallow was visible as she darted her eyes back and forth between the two of us.

“Oh, ah, I had no idea you had a visitor.” She cleared her throat. “It is past visiting hours but,” she cleared her throat again, her cheeks turning bright red. “I can keep a secret as long as you’re quiet.” In her early thirties, she was young and pretty. Her eyes kept switching back to him, suddenly jumping in place a little.

She left a few minutes later after doing a quick check to make sure I wasn’t exhibiting any signs of imminent death. “If you’re planning on taking an extended nap while you’re here, that chair in the corner has a footrest that comes out and it reclines.“

I waited until we were alone before asking, “Are you planning on staying?”

His answer was to toe off his sneakers, revealing bright white socks. I guess I could take that as a good sign. “Have you heard anything from your agent?”

“Nothing new. Someone is supposed to be giving me a call next week from a team in Sweden that seems interested.” A flutter went through my belly. Sweden. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around it.

“Which team?” he asked casually. I told him the name and he nodded. “That’s a good one.”

I didn’t miss the fact that he’d done research on the teams or clubs, as they were called overseas. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.

“What about France? Germany?”

“I know she heard back from two teams in Germany, but she hasn’t said anything else about it, and France, I have no idea.” I wiggled my toes beneath the thin blanket I’d used to cover myself up in the freezing cold room. I suddenly remembered what I’d told Franz about Amber. I’d yet to tell Kulti the story and it made me feel guilty. Here he was after worrying about me and apparently spending the night, and he didn’t know the truth. “Rey?”

“Taco.”

“Remember when you heard Amber calling me a whore, and I didn’t want to tell you why?”

Kulti was still staring at the television when he answered. “I know why.”

Say what? My head throbbed in response to his statement. “You do?”

“Yes, something about that woman with the horse teeth throwing a tantrum because her husband is a liar. You left the team.” He glanced at me. “Now that we are on the topic I have to tell you how much of an idiot you were. That situation wasn’t your fault, and the coach should have let her go instead of you. You’re faster, you make better decisions, and your ball-handling is much better.” He sounded so nonchalant through his speech; I couldn’t wrap my head around everything he said. I was still hung up on the fact that he freaking knew.

“How did you find out?” It was supposed to be a secret, damn it.

He lifted a shoulder. “My manager knows everything.”

Yeah, my mouth opened in disbelief. “She heard about it?”

“She makes an effort to know everything before convincing me to do something. She did her research on the team, and I’m assuming she found out then. Don’t frown at me. Secrets don’t exist for her; I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew all the bad things every player on the team has ever done.”

My cheeks went hot, and I tried to rationalize what he was implying.

“You could have asked me. I would have told you,” I grumbled.

Refusing to look at me, he replied, “You were taking too long.”

Dear God. I was going to murder him. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes. I already said you were an idiot for not fighting them, but there is nothing I can do about it now. If someone ever did that to you now, I would feel differently about it. That will never happen again, understand?”

For some strange reason, his defense had me beaming. It didn’t matter anymore. It was in the past and… well, he didn’t think what I’d mistakenly been accused of was a big deal. Why should I? Maybe it was time to leave Amber and her idiot husband behind. Hopefully I’d have a fresh start.

I took a deep breath and took in his side profile, cute nose, perfectly proportionate chin and his beard stubble. “What about you? Made any decisions yet on what you’re going to do?”

He swung those light-colored eyes over to me. “No. I haven’t decided anything.”

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “Have the Pipers asked you to re-sign?”

“Yes.” He glanced back over at me, smiling that baby grin. “Do you believe the term ‘fuck off’ would be an appropriate answer?”

I cracked a smile and reached over to squeeze his shin. “I think I like it.”

His phone was ringing again.

“If you don’t answer it, I’m going to,” I threatened him, not straying from keeping my eyes on the scenery outside.

“Neither of us is answering,” he said what I had already come to assume after the fourth time his phone had rung since I’d gotten released from the hospital.

What seemed like every five minutes, the trauma had started all over. Beep, beep, beep. The most boring ringtone ever created had been on a constant loop.

“Who’s calling?” I finally asked.

“My publicist. Cordero. Sheila.”

Oh brother. “You mean Sheena?”

“Yes. Her.”

“What do they want?” No one had called me. The only person I had spoken to was Gardner, to let him know that the doctor had come in that morning and said I was free to go. But it had taken hours to get discharged. Holy crap. The team had flown back without me, a van dropping my things off before heading to the airport. Gardner had said he’d let Kulti know what was happening since he apparently decided to miss the flight and catch the next one with me.

He sighed. “They don’t want us to get on the same flight together.”

That had me turning in the cab’s old leather seat. “Why?”

He made a face that said how stupid he thought this all was. “The photographs.”

The photographs if someone realized who he was. I wasn’t anything special to look at, no one would recognize me, but he was a different story.

It was my turn to sigh. “I can sit by myself.”

“Don’t start, Sal,” he grumbled, still not looking my way.

“What? I get it. It would be less crap for them to deal with.”

That had him glancing over, his mouth set into a firm line. “This isn’t ‘crap’ and I’m not going to pretend like we don’t know each other. I’m not a child and neither are you.”

Jumping to agree to their terms so quickly made me feel like a guilty asshole. I hated saying he was right, but it was the truth. What did I have to hide? I looked at the hazel-green orbs staring at me and remembered that this was the person that had spent the night in a chair too small for him, and woken up every time the nurse checked on me. That made me feel like that much more of an ass-wipe.

For one brief moment I asked myself what the hell had I gotten myself into. This was the equivalent of being scared of heights and getting a job window-washing skyscrapers.

But as I took in his thirty-nine-year-old face that had been such a huge aspect of my life when I was younger and had somehow become an ever larger figure now that I was a lot older, I accepted the fact that there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him. I wasn’t positive whether to let that make me feel weak or to accept it for the gift it would have been if I let myself think of it that way.

I had a man I respected that respected me, and he didn’t care if the world knew we meant something to each other. Our friendship hadn’t been given to either one of us, we had worked at it. On top of that, I felt something for him even if he was an egotistical, arrogant, stubborn pain in the ass. He was my egotistical, arrogant, stubborn pain in the ass.

So, yeah, I wasn’t about to let someone—anyone—cheapen our friendship. That person sure as hell wasn’t going to be Cordero either.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” The only thing I didn’t want and wouldn’t want, would be to get stared at. That was all. A thought entered my head. “Does your publicist hate us hanging out together?”

“My publicist hates most things, schnecke, don’t worry about him.”

That wasn’t super reassuring but all right. I smiled at him. I guess his publicist could sign up on the long list of ‘People Who Aren’t Fans of Sal.’ Someone had told me once that you couldn’t make everyone happy, and I’d kept that close to my chest for a very long time. Once you reluctantly accepted that people were always going to judge you no matter what, it got a little easier to deal with having people dislike you.

A little.

“Why are you frowning? Is your head bothering you?” Kulti asked in a worried tone.

Yeah, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him. Not that I would ever admit it out loud.

I repeated that to myself the instant the first person recognized Kulti at the airport. I kept repeating that to myself when a security officer was forced to lead us into a special room to wait until boarding began. When I became overwhelmed at the people craning their necks to get a good look at the German, I told myself that this was all part of it. My face got all red because he wouldn’t let me walk ahead and pretend like I didn’t know him. This was all part of being friends with the German.

But it definitely sucked and I wasn’t a fan.