Blindside

good idea.”
    “Keely, Miles only told you two minutes ago, not all that much time to think about it.”
    Keely slid a glance at Sam, who grinned like a kid who’d just copped an early look at his Christmas presents.
    “Keely and I talked about it,” Sam announced. “And we think it would be okay.”
    “This is the way to go, Mama. We’re right about this.”
    It was Miles and Katie’s turn to stare, both at each other and at their children. Miles said slowly, “How can you be so sure? You kids didn’t even know each other existed until last Saturday afternoon.”
    Both children gave them a look like, So what’s your point?
    Miles felt pumped, ready to take on the world. He knew to his soul that he wanted to do this. “Katie, what do you say? Let’s do it. No reason not to.” Knew even deeper that making love with Katie, watching her laugh and love his son, was the right thing.

    Katie jumped to her feet, startling everyone. “Okay, guys, listen up. This is a huge decision for all of us. I’m going to think what this would mean before I commit to anything, you hear me? Sam, your father is going to be doing some heavy-duty thinking, too. You and Keely will have to be patient, and not pressure either your father or me into this.”
    Yeah, right, Miles thought, looking at his son.
    S UNDAY N IGHT
G EORGETOWN , W ASHINGTON , D.C.
    After the most delicious spinach lasagna Miles could remember, sautéed winter squash, and a Caesar salad, hot dogs and chips and a token salad for Sam and Sean, Savich handed Miles a cup of coffee, black, no sugar. “Sit down, Miles. You still look pretty wrung out.”
    “Nah, not really. Promise me you made the coffee, Savich.”
    Savich grinned. “Oh yeah. I’ve taught Sherlock just about everything I know, but coffee still defeats her.”
    Sherlock called out from the kitchen, “Did I hear my name being maligned?”
    “Not at all,” Miles called back. “You make a mean salad, all that feta cheese you add makes it really good, but, and I have to be honest here, you just don’t have the same knack with coffee that your husband has, which is amazing since he rarely drinks it.”
    “No one said you had to be honest,” Sherlock said, coming into the living room. She handed Savich a cup of tea, fresh-brewed.
    “Thanks.” He took a sip, closed his eyes in bliss.
    “I like your pirate face, Miles,” Sherlock said, “with all those little tape pieces. It’s sexy.”
    “You never said my back was sexy,” Savich said.

    She actually shuddered. “No, but I will once I stop shaking.” She added to Miles, “He’s much better, but it’s going to take another week before he can stretch without worrying his back is going to break open.”
    Savich and Sherlock sat across from Miles, listening with half an ear to Sean talking a blue streak to Sam, not much of it comprehensible, but Sam seemed to understand enough. He was rolling blocks to Sean, then helping Sean roll them back to him. They were in the designated kid part of the living room, where toys and chaos could reign without adults tripping over a stray ball and breaking a neck.
    Sherlock looked sleek in black slacks and a black lace top, her curly red hair flying about, her eyes blue as a summer sky. Miles saw Savich grinning at her like a fool, sighed, and thought yet again of Katie.
    It had been nearly a day and a half since he’d seen her. Those thirty hours felt like a decade.
    “They’re still getting lots of rain in eastern Tennessee,” Miles said. “I’ll tell you, it kept me real alert flying out of Ackerman’s Air Field, what with the rain coming down so hard. They’ve got several storms lined up with little respite in between. Katie and her crew were up to their noses in mud and downed wires, not to mention all the accidents, the odd cow bawling in the middle of the road, mail soaked because some kids poked holes in some mailboxes.”
    “Sounds like she has her hands full, all right,” Savich said and leaned forward so Sherlock could lightly scratch around the wound in his back.
    Miles sat back and closed his eyes. Things were really bad and he didn’t see how anything could get better. His guts hurt. Sam’s guts hurt. Cracker kept asking what was wrong with him. He’d stomped around his office at the plant like a wounded rhino even though there were very few employees there to see it on a Sunday afternoon. Then he’d gone back home and stomped some more.
    Even though Sam was safe, he