In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she’d do it. If she had to sell the house—and that was just one more thing she was undecided on—it would probably be better for her to get her own apartment or something. It would be the sensible, responsible thing to do.

She’d always been sensible and responsible.

Since she’d met Jason, she’d done things she’d never have dreamed of—picking up a guy and taking him home, hot sexual adventures, flying off to California for a sexy weekend. Crazy. Moving in with him would be the craziest thing of all.

But there was no denying how much she wanted that. How much she wanted to wake up with him every morning, to go to bed with him every night, to cheer him on and share his triumphs and yes, his losses, because he would have those. To be there for him.

She’d come a long way from wanting nothing to do with him because of paparazzi stalkers, aggressive female fans and a huge paycheck. Now—she loved him. None of that mattered.

She also had to admit she liked how he was there for her. How supportive he’d been when Kyle had been freaking out, even though she’d been annoyed at him. How steady he’d been when she’d been ambushed by Jasmine’s request. She’d been thinking about it all week and she longed for him to be there so she could share all her confused feelings about selling the house. How it was more than just a house, it was their home. But yet, if Jasmine and Kyle didn’t live there anymore, there was no real logical, rational reason not to sell it. Truthfully, the cash would help pay for Kyle’s tuition. Or she could insist he invest it and save it as a down payment on a home of his own one day.

But Jason wasn’t there to talk to about it.

She moved away from the window to wander around her house, straightening things, wiping the counter that was already spotless, staring into space.

Maybe she could find a movie on TV to keep her occupied for a while. She sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels, finding a chick flick she’d already seen, but hey, without Jason there, it was a good time to watch it again.

She fell asleep with the television on and woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She still hadn’t heard from Jason. And she didn’t hear from him all day Sunday either, until her cell phone rang at nearly ten o’clock when she was getting ready for bed, heart heavy and aching, stomach cramped with worry.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” It was Jason. She recognized his voice even in that one word.

“Jase. Where are you?”

“St. Louis.”

“Oh.”

“I…” He stopped. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Uh…something came up and…I’m really sorry, Remi.”

“Is everything okay, Jase? You sound funny.” She pushed her bangs off her face. Something clutched at her heart and squeezed, sending scary feelings through her, shivery, worried feelings.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to call you. I wanted to…” He stopped again. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Her stomach churned. Something felt wrong. He did not sound like himself. “Good luck tomorrow night. I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks, Remi.” There was a long pause, then he said, “I love you, Remi.”

“Oh.” Her heart squeezed. “I love you too.”

She hung up with trembling fingers, closing her burning eyes. She’d go to bed, get a good night’s sleep and in the morning everything would be fine.

But Monday morning she discovered how not fine things were. Skimming through the morning paper while she drank coffee, she flipped the page and her eyes were immediately drawn to a small headline—“Chicago Wolves player arrested for disorderly conduct.”

She leaned forward, frowning. “Saturday night, Chicago Wolves center Jase Heller was arrested at Sage Restaurant. According to restaurant manager Brian Smythe, Heller had arrived at the restaurant with a group of teammates at about nine o’clock. When advised of the dress code by the hostess and told that he could not enter the restaurant wearing blue jeans, Heller became angry and argumentative. When Mr. Smythe reinforced the restaurant policy and again told Heller he could not enter wearing blue jeans, Heller stripped off his jeans and walked into the restaurant in his underwear. Restaurant personnel asked Heller to leave, but he refused. Police were called and Heller was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, public intoxication and resisting arrest. He was later released on bail.”

Remi sat frozen in her chair, her coffee forgotten. What the hell? Arrested? He’d taken off his pants in a classy restaurant and made a scene?

At least he’d been wearing underwear.

She wanted to disbelieve that this could have been Jason, but the black letters on the page popped out at her as if they were in big, bold font.

She shook her head. There must be some mistake. This was not possible.

The coffee she’d drank burbled in her stomach and threatened to come back up. She shook her head. What was going on? This was insane.

April fool’s day had passed days ago. This couldn’t be a prank. But he hadn’t said a word of this when they’d talked last night and her sense of unease and dread grew.

She had to go to work.

As if she could concentrate on thirty energetic kids. But she had no choice. In fact, she was going to be late.

She drove to school in a daze, thoughts tumbling around in her head like laundry in a dryer. Nothing made sense. She felt lost, like she was wandering through a maze, not sure which way to turn, smacking up against walls, desperate to get out.

What had she gotten herself into? Had she fallen in love with a nut job? Had he fooled her that well?

No. No. They loved each other. She had no doubt about the depth of their feelings for each other, which only made the situation more bizarre. In her wildest imaginings, she could not come up with something that reasonably explained this.

All day it took monstrous effort to stay focused enough to teach, to keep things under control with a group of pre-teens who looked for any weakness, any small crack that would give them the advantage, because once they started it was even harder to bring them back.

By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, she was exhausted.

And worried sick. She hadn’t been able to eat lunch and certainly wasn’t interested in dinner.

She had to talk to someone, so when she got home she called Delise and told her what had happened. Delise hadn’t seen the newspaper article, but sounded as shocked and confused as Remi felt.

“Don’t even say I told you so,” Remi said fiercely.

“I won’t. Do you want me to come over?”

“Um…maybe. I’m going to watch the game on TV.” Seeing Jason on television would at least reassure her that he was alive and functioning.

“I’ll come over. I’ll bring popcorn and beer.”

She didn’t want popcorn and beer, but didn’t say anything, letting Delise think she was helping.

“Thank you for coming,” she said later, as they sat side by side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them. Delise was munching and Remi’d picked up a few kernels, but they tasted like she was eating dog kibble. One beer on an empty stomach had her a little woozy. She kept her eyes glued to the television, watching for Jason.

He was there. She caught sight of number twenty-five in the line as the national anthem played, but the cameraman apparently wasn’t as interested in him as she was and passed right by him.

“He’s there,” she breathed.

“So, that’s good.”

“I guess.” Maybe she would have felt better if he’d still been in jail or if he’d actually been hospitalized with a head injury and amnesia.

Jason did not take the opening face-off. In fact, as the game progressed, he didn’t play a lot, and when he was on the ice he seemed sluggish and slow. Was he sick? Icy fingers squeezed her insides painfully. “Oh, Delise,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. “Something’s wrong.”