DREW SPENT THE next several days learning to do the smallest things for himself, such as dressing, using the men’s room (thankfully, he figured that one out rather quickly), and eating anything that required the use of a fork and a knife. Showering was still a challenge. Someone else needed to secure his hair in the low ponytail he typically wore it in each morning. He couldn’t drive. He got picked up in the morning for conditioning and physical therapy, and he was still on painkillers for the aftereffects of a few hours of adventures with the Sharks’ training staff.

Luckily, nobody seemed to care that his wardrobe consisted of anything clean he could pull on at the moment, otherwise known as warm-ups and oversized T-shirts. He’d repacked his suitcase for this reality. After a week of dealing with the aftereffects of shoulder surgery, though, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was dim, but it was there. He was going to spend months rehabbing his shoulder, but he would recover.

Drew walked out of his house, locked the door, and stood looking at it for a minute or two. Chuck was behind the wheel of the SUV idling in his driveway. It wasn’t nice to make Chuck wait, but it was a ritual of sorts: He’d shut the door on the life he thought he would have. It was time to see what else might be in store.

Two hours later, Drew strolled into the Sharks’ head trainer’s office after his latest workout.

“Hey, Stan. Do you have a minute?” he said.

Stan had been with the team for fifteen years. He was known around the league for the excellence of his training and conditioning programs. The Sharks had benefited from his expertise. It would be smarter for his career to stay in Seattle for the next several months, but Kendall wasn’t in Seattle.

“Sure, Drew.” Stan nodded toward the chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve talked with my agent and the coaching staff this morning already. I’d like to rehab in California at least four days a week for the next few months, if that will work for you.”

“Are you unhappy with what’s going on here?”

“No. Not at all.” Drew leaned forward a little and braced one arm on the desk. “There’s someone special in California—”

“Say no more,” Stan said. “Do you need a recommendation or suggestions on who to work with? I know some guys.”

“They know you too,” Drew assured him. “They would like to be able to coordinate with you and the staff here, if that will work.”

“It’ll work.” Stan stuck out his hand, and Drew shook it. “Someone special, huh? Maybe you could bring her by sometime and introduce me.”

“I’d like that. I’ll also keep you up to date with the workouts and what’s happening.”

“You do that,” Stan said. He grinned at Drew. “Guys are dropping like flies, aren’t they?” Drew knew his comment had nothing to do with injuries, and everything to do with the fact more than a few Seattle Sharks were now sporting a wedding ring. “I’ll see you in June for OTAs.”

“Yes, you will,” Drew said.

DREW HAD ONE more visit before he got on the plane for San Francisco. He hit the walk-up window at Dick’s Drive-In, and Chuck helped him get enough food and drinks for one ten-year-old and a gaggle of nurses into the back of the SUV.

“Thanks for all your help, Chuck,” Drew said as he eased himself back into the passenger seat.

“It’s my pleasure,” Chuck said. “Maybe I need to get on the Tuesday afternoon Children’s detail too.”

“I think the kids would enjoy that.” Chuck and his colleague were in the Secret Service before they decided to open their own security firm. Drew was sure Nolan would love asking Chuck questions about his job.

He felt another pang. As his shoulder healed, he could get a cheap flight to Seattle on Tuesdays. There were so many things he’d miss about his adopted hometown, but Nolan (and Dick’s Doubles) was the biggest.

After dropping off most of the food, Drew walked into Nolan’s room with a couple of bags and a huge grin. “Hey, big guy,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Nolan was sitting up in a chair. There were a few less IVs in his arm. Drew turned to tap the sign as he always did, and he noted the indentations of fists and fingerprints in the drywall from the sheer number of visitors that had already done so.

Nolan reached out eagerly for the bags. “I’m hungry,” he said.

“That’s good, because I brought you some food.” Drew lowered himself into a chair. “Do you need me to set you up?”

“Nope.” Nolan reached into the bag, handed Drew a cheeseburger, and grabbed one out for himself. “Want some fries?”

“Sure,” Drew said.

He watched Nolan spread the napkin over the rolling table, shake a few fries out from their paper sleeve, and grab out a small container of ketchup from the bag. He uncapped it and put it where Drew could reach it.

The dark circles under Nolan’s eyes had faded. He had fresh color in his cheeks. He was energetic. He was also eating. The fries disappeared rapidly. Nolan reached into the bag to grab out another order of them.

“You seem like you’re feeling better.”

“I am. The doctor said I’m improving and I don’t have to have as much medicine.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah. My mom’s really happy.” Nolan had smeared ketchup on his cheek. Drew handed him a napkin. “You had surgery on your shoulder.”

“I did. It’ll get better. It’ll just be a while.” Drew propped his feet up on the footboard of Nolan’s bed. “No big deal.”

“Want more fries?” Nolan asked.

“I’m good. You eat ’em, buddy.” He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Maybe the best thing was to just blurt it out. “So, Nolan, I may not see you for a while. I’m going to work with some trainers and a doctor in California.” He saw Nolan frown. “Derrick and Seth already said they’re coming to visit you like always every Tuesday. Plus, there’s a guy named Chuck that works with us that might stop by too. I think you’ll like him.”

“I’ll see you again, right?” He’d wondered if Nolan’s dad had abandoned their family or what the story was. Nolan never talked about it. He had to think of a way to reassure Nolan he wasn’t falling off the face of the earth.

“You’ll see me when I’m better. I promise.” Drew let out a breath. “I’ll give you my cell number in case you want to talk.”

“I can call you?”

“Yeah, you can call me. If I’m busy, I might have to call you back.”

Nolan gave him a nod and passed him one of the chocolate shakes out of the other bag. “We’ll see each other soon,” he said.

“Yes. And you’re going to run out onto the field with me for the first game.”

Nolan grinned at him. “That means we’ll both have to get better.”

“You bet, buddy.” Drew took a sip of his shake. “We will.”

A FEW HOURS later, the flight Drew was on descended into San Francisco. The weather was perfect. San Francisco Bay reflected the blue skies above. The Golden Gate Bridge glowed a soft orange in the late-afternoon sun. The pilot set the jet down on the runway as if it were made of cotton.

Drew managed to grab his backpack out of the overhead bin and make his way into the airport. He had a driver waiting, who grabbed his suitcase.

“Where to, Mr. McCoy?” the driver asked as they strapped themselves into yet another black SUV.

Drew read Kendall’s address off of his contacts list. He had a place a mile or so from her house. Maybe he should call first.

Maybe not.

The ride from the airport offered some time to make some calls, and to think. It was pretty ballsy to show up at her house without letting her know he was coming. He saw a flower stand as they exited off the freeway in Santa Clara.

“Would you please stop for a minute?” he asked the driver. “I’d like to get some flowers.”