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Of all the places Major might have thought his newfound 'friend' Liv would be taking him, a YMCA wouldn't even have made the list. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her waiting for him … just like it used to. God, he was a lucky man. Friend-zoned or not, for the moment, she was his again. He had forgotten how good it felt, like he was ten feet tall and walking on air. He dug the gym bag and basketball he had brought out of the back of his car and met her at the door, trying not to grin like an idiot. But so was she, so he figured it was safe.

They walked together through the halls. "How was your day?" Liv asked.

"Oh, little of this, little of that. Yours?"

"Same."

He glanced down at her. "I'll give you this, you're taking this friends thing seriously. I thought the friendship offer was something girls said when they don't want to see you naked."

She grinned up at him. "Like you've heard a lot of that."

"I've read about it." It felt so good to smile again. To smile with Liv again. "Seriously, though, Hoosiers last night, playin' hoops today. What're we gonna do tomorrow? We should eat some chicken wings and talk about whether or not the movie Casino was any good."

"You … may be busy tomorrow."

They rounded the corner and Major saw a bunch of kids in pinneys milling around the court, practicing shots and dribbles. "Liv, what're we doing here?"

"You mean with this ragtag group of disadvantaged kids who tragically lost their coach a few days ago? Oh, did I forget to mention they'd be here?"

"Okay, I see what you're trying to do."

"Well, I'm not being subtle."

She never had been. Apparently that, at least, hadn't changed.

One of the kids shouted, "Is this the guy?"

Major guessed that was the question. He used to be the guy, that much he knew. Could he be the guy again? Did he want to?

Liv looked up at him expectantly. "Well?" She wanted him to. She believed in him—that, also, hadn't changed. And he wanted to be the guy again, if not for himself, then for her. And, yeah, for these kids who had lost something important and needed someone to step up to take that place. He knew how to do that kind of thing; it was what he had trained for.

"Yeah. Hustle up!" He clapped his hands. "Guys, my name's Major—yeah, my parents were mean and they hated me, let's move past that. Let's play some hoops!"

He separated them into groups, learning their names one at a time as he watched what they could do, finding out how their previous coach had worked. He got them into a scrimmage, paying attention to who had the feel for the ball and who needed to get a little more comfortable with it.

What he hadn't expected was his assistant coach. Liv was behind him every step of the way, calling out advice and encouragement to the kids—and sounding pretty damned competent. Whoever the coach was whose brain she had eaten, he had known his stuff. Major thought he might kind of miss this brain when it was gone. He had never considered that it might have advantages, this constant change in personality.

Also, she was really hot, getting into the game and calling out strategy.

Two of the boys got into a bit of a scuffle, and Major stuck his whistle in his mouth, calling for a time out as he hurried onto the court, pushing the boys apart. "Hey! Break it up! Whoa!" He looked them each in the eye. "Is that the kind of team this is? Huh? The kind of team Coach Hayden would want you to be?"

One of the kids, Charlie, shook his head. "No."

The other one, Jordy, frowned at Major. "Wow. You went there."

"I'm shameless." He looked at them both again. "Look, Charlie, keep your elbows down. Jordy, stop head-butting Charlie's elbows."

Neither one of them was convinced, but hopefully now they both knew what he would and would not put up with. He was going to have to keep an eye on them, though. One fight often led to more.

Liv was watching him from the sidelines, smugly pleased with herself.

Practice ended, and Major fielded the thanks, and the advice, both useless and not so much, of the parents as they picked up their kids. The kids themselves gave him grudgingly respectful good-byes, but he could tell they weren't convinced. They knew he wasn't a complete dud, but they didn't trust him yet. No biggie. Trust wasn't built in a single practice. He could work on it.

When they were alone on the court, Liv swatted him on the rear with a towel. "Give you some time, Lilywhite, we'll get you up to speed."

"Me? This from a girl who thought the paint meant they let a pony on the court."

They stood there grinning foolishly at each other, moving slowly closer together until it would only have taken another step to pull her against him and drop his head just that little bit more and …

Liv stepped back. "I should … go."

"Should you?" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remember the friends thing. "I thought we were going to see who could eat the most chicken wings and down the most beer."

"Tempting. But Ravi's in the morgue tonight so you have to get back and walk Minor."

"I could do both."

There was something about the mention of the dog that was cold water down his back, though. Little as he wanted to go home alone and face that room where he had spent so much miserable time in the last few months, he also didn't want a casual conversation with Liv to lead down the road of where he'd gotten the dog or what he was doing working for Max Rager, both questions that so far hadn't come up.

He smiled, squeezing her shoudler. "Good-night, Liv."

"Good-night, Major."

At least tonight when he drove home alone, he knew he would be seeing her again soon, which was more than he had known for a long time. That was something. For now, it was enough.