Kimberly

I toss another shirt into the pile and exhale, watching the rhythm of my own hands as I fold. I'm exhausted, yet somehow my mind won't quit. Laundry at ten o'clock at night—it's my ritual now, this mindless task to unwind, to make sense of my life while I go through the motions. And tonight? Tonight, it's Ben Kensington that's taking up space in my head

Ben Kensington. God, he's so… nice. I try to picture his face, good-looking in that all-American kind of way, with a steady job and a sense of humor that made me chuckle. We'd talked, and he'd actually listened when I told him about the boys. He'd been nothing but respectful and kind. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn't immediately drop his jaw at the thought of a woman with three kids.

He seemed reliable, charming in a way that doesn't make me immediately question his motives. He looks at me like he genuinely likes what he sees, and it's refreshing. Feels safe.

But that was the problem. I kept waiting for the spark, the little thing that would make my heart race, my stomach flutter. The thing I had once felt, briefly, for a certain brown-eyed doctor. But with Ben? It was like waiting for a fire to start, and the match had been wet. It wasn't there, and I wasn't about to fake it.

Still, he asked me to dinner, with a polite, easy confidence that any sane woman would appreciate. And here I am, considering it—thinking it might be nice, might even be good for me, for the boys, for my whole sense of… I don't know, moving on? That's the thing, though—I can't help but wonder what Tommy would think if he knew. What would he do if he found out I was going on a date.

He'd burn the town down.

I shake my head, pushing the thought away. It's insane to even wonder. Tommy Oliver is a thorn in my side, and he's put himself there with all his issues, his goddamn pride, and that stupid swagger that drives me nuts. He's the damn crayon drawn wildly outside the lines of my life. I told myself I wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about him.

And yet… here I am, still fuming over how he treated my kids, still fighting not to admit how much I wanted to forgive him. Because if I'm honest with myself—and I mean really honest—part of the reason I didn't want him in our lives was because I knew the kids weren't ready. They were too fragile, too angry at the world after their dad left, and I didn't need Tommy's cocky attitude making things worse.

So why am I considering Ben? Because he's safe. Because I know it'll go nowhere. Because I'm pissed that Tommy could move on so quickly with that woman at the bar.

What the hell.

The way he lost himself in her, how he touched and kissed her like he used to kiss me. How infuriatingly frustrating and attractive he was all at the same time.

I toss another shirt on the pile and sigh, letting out the tension in my shoulders. This is exactly why I need to get out of my head. Get out of the endless loop of what ifs and maybes and why did I's. I could see Tommy's face if he knew I was actually debating going on a date. He'd probably laugh, give me that look he does—like I'm the most predictable person in the world.

But the reality is, he's still the one I think about. He's the one I replay conversations with in my mind, even after I've promised myself I wouldn't. And I hate that he has this hold on me, even if I won't ever let him know it.

And… it pisses me off to admit, but he's getting to the boys in the best way possible. They're doing better since he started coaching them. They're getting along more, they're actually excited about something, and they've improved so much in baseball that I can't help but feel a mix of pride and gratitude. It's like they've got this… this focus now. This drive. And, as much as it kills me to admit it, Tommy's part of that.

I shake my head, grabbing the next piece of laundry—a T-shirt that's two sizes too big for Jeffrey but one of his favorites. I smile a little as I fold it. The boys are doing better. It's more than I could've hoped for just a few months ago, and I have to focus on that. Whatever complicated, insane thing I've got going on in my head when it comes to Tommy… it's just going to stay there, buried in my thoughts.

A small noise from down the hall snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance up, listening for a moment. Is that talking? It's late—too late for anyone to be up. I put down the clothes, head to Jeffrey and Maddox's room, and peek in. They're both dead asleep, sprawled out in that way that only kids can manage, and for a moment, I feel a pang of relief. They're safe, they're happy… it's what I'm here for.

But the talking continues, faint and a little muffled. I frown, following it to Tyler's room. His door is open just a crack, and I peek in, seeing him standing there in front of his mirror. He's… talking to himself?

"Uh, Tyler?" I say, pushing the door open wider.

He spins around, wide-eyed, looking like he just got caught robbing a bank. "Mom!" He squeaks, a flush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, hey."

I narrow my eyes, fighting a smile. "What are you doing?"

He scratches the back of his neck, looking down, shuffling his feet. "Nothing," he mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

"Nothing?" I step into the room, crossing my arms. "You were talking to yourself. About what?

He sighs, dropping his gaze to the floor, looking sheepish. "It's… it's nothing. I was just… practicing."

"Practicing? For what?"

He hesitates, looking like he'd rather do anything than answer me right now, and that only makes me more curious. Finally, he mumbles, "For… Brooke."

Brooke. Ohhh. A smile creeps up my face, but I keep it in check. "Practicing for Brooke, huh?" I say casually, pretending not to know exactly what's going on.

He sighs, and then, as if he can't take the pressure anymore, blurts it out. "Coach… he, uh, he gave me some advice."

What? Of course he did.

My heart tightens just a little, remembering all the advice Tommy's ever given me… his fucking rules that had me chasing him up to his suite. And now he's passing that wisdom on to Tyler, in the same blunt, slightly smug way he always has. Dear god. What advice did Tommy give him?

I keep my face neutral, even though inside, I feel a complicated mess of emotions. "Oh yeah? What kind of advice?"

Tyler shifts awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. "Just… like… rules," he mutters.

I panic.

"You know, like, don't try too hard, be yourself, stuff like that," he continues.

Crisis averted.

I nod slowly, watching him. "Well, that sounds like pretty good advice to me. So, you were just… practicing?"

He huffs, rubbing his face. "Yeah. I wanted to… you know, get it right. She's… she's cool, and I don't want to mess it up."

I reach over, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Tyler, listen. You don't have to 'get it right' all the time. Just be you. And you're a pretty amazing guy, just the way you are."

He looks at me, his expression softening a little, and he lets out a breath. "Thanks, Mom."

I smile, tousling his hair before stepping back. "Now, how about you go to bed? You'll need your rest if you want to impress this Brooke girl tomorrow."

He chuckles, a little of his usual confidence returning. "Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, honey." I walk back out of his room, my heart swelling with pride for my boy.

But as I close his door, my smile fades, and that familiar ache creeps back in. Tommy. No matter how much I try to push him out of my mind, he's here, lingering, haunting me through the little ways he's making an impact on my boys, even when I try to keep him at arm's length.

I head back to my laundry, folding the clothes in silence, that damn tug in my heart growing stronger. And as much as I hate to admit it, maybe—just maybe—it's not Ben Kensington that I'm thinking about.

Some days in the ED feel like being trapped in a pressure cooker. The chaos, the noise, the adrenaline—it's all fine until the heat gets too high, and then you're just waiting for the damn thing to explode. Today was one of those days.

"Possible TIA, arriving in five minutes," the charge nurse called from the desk.

Fabulous. Another critical case to round out this disaster of a shift. My feet ached, my ponytail was barely holding on, and the last thing I needed was another patient to remind me how close we all are to falling apart.

I adjusted my stethoscope, trying to stay focused, but then he walked in.

Tommy Oliver.

He strode into the ED like he owned the place, clipboard in one hand, the other casually brushing back his dark, messy hair. His black scrubs fit him way too well, the sleeves tight enough to show off those annoyingly perfect biceps. And those forearms. Who has forearms like that? They're forearms, not a damn flex.

"Don't stare, Kim," I muttered to myself, snapping my attention back to the incoming trauma.

But how could I not? The man was a walking distraction. It wasn't just his looks—it was the way he moved, the way the room seemed to shift around him. Like he was the eye of the storm, calm and commanding, while the rest of us scrambled to keep up.

The paramedics rolled in, a pale, terrified man on the gurney.

"Suspected TIA," one of them said. "Symptoms started forty minutes ago—confusion, left-side weakness, slurred speech."

Fuck. Here we go.

I jumped into action, checking his vitals while asking the usual questions, though his answers were garbled at best. His eyes darted around the room, wide with panic.

"It's okay," I said, my voice soft but firm. "You're in good hands. We're going to take care of you."

"BP's high—210 over 120," a nurse called.

And then, like he'd been waiting for his cue, Tommy appeared at my side.

"Let's move fast," he said, his voice calm but commanding. His eyes flicked to me briefly, like he was checking to make sure I was on it.

I was.

Still, it didn't stop the way my pulse skipped, the way his presence filled the room like gravity.

"Kimberly, stay with him. Keep monitoring while we get imaging ready," Tommy said, stepping into the chaos like he owned it.

He didn't even look at me, but I felt the brush of his presence like a spark along my skin. Damn him.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Got it."

His hand gripped mine like a lifeline as we worked. "Am I going to die?" the patient whispered, his words slurred but still clear.

"You're in the best hands. Dr. Oliver is one of the best," I said, my voice unwavering.

Tommy's mouth twitched, just a hint of that infuriating smirk, but he didn't say anything.

Minutes later, we were in the imaging suite, the patient groaning softly as I tried to keep him calm. I watched Tommy on the other side of the glass, his brow furrowed as he scanned the screen. His poker face was impenetrable, but I'd learned to spot the faintest crack—the slight clench of his jaw when something wasn't right.

My stomach twisted.

The images came through, and I leaned closer. "There," I said, pointing to a faint shadow. "That looks like a clot, right?"

Tommy didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at the screen, his head slightly tilting, brown eyes narrowing. His arm brushed mine as he leaned in, his scent—clean, woodsy, and entirely too distracting—filling my senses.

"Yeah," he said finally, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret. "That's it. Good eye."

My heart stuttered, and I hated myself for it. Get a grip, Kimberly. It's just a compliment, not a marriage proposal.

Back in the ED, the patient's wife had arrived, her face streaked with tears. Tommy explained the situation to her with his usual steady confidence, his voice calm but firm as he laid out the plan for treatment.

I stood near the patient, monitoring his vitals, but my focus kept slipping. Watching Tommy work was its own unique form of torture. His precision, his quiet authority, the way every person in the room instinctively deferred to him—it was maddening. And fucking mesmerizing.

"Kimberly," his voice cut through my haze like a whip. My name from his lips was a command. "My office."

I blinked, my mind scrambling to catch up. He was already walking out of the chaos without waiting for a reply. Typical Tommy.

I followed him, weaving through the bustling ED until we reached his office—a space that felt like an extension of him. His office was neat, almost too neat, with bookshelves full of medical texts and a desk that looked like it had never seen clutter. Polished, meticulous, intimidatingly perfect.

He paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. For a split second, we both stood there, suspended in the unspoken. Open or closed? A question neither of us voiced, but one that hung heavy in the air.

He made the decision, releasing the handle and leaving the door half open. Neutral. Safe. Smart.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk as he rounded it to his own.

I sat, trying like hell not to notice how his black scrubs clung to his broad shoulders or the way the faint stubble on his jawline seemed to catch the light just right. He sat too, his expression unreadable as he pulled up the imaging on his screen.

"We caught it early," he said, his voice steady. "The procedure should go smoothly."

"Good," I murmured, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

His eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. There was something in his gaze—something that felt like a challenge, like he was daring me to look away.

"You did good back there," he said.

"Thanks," I said, feeling a flush creep up my neck.

The silence between us grew thick, charged with something neither of us would acknowledge. I shifted in my seat, hyperaware of how close we were in this small room.

"I—"

"You—"

We both spoke at once, then froze. He smirked, that infuriatingly sexy smirk that made me want to kiss him and slap him all at once.

"You first," he said, leaning back in his chair.

I cleared my throat, trying to get my thoughts in order. "I wanted to thank you. For what you said to Tyler. He… he told me about your talk. It really helped him. Helped us."

Tommy's smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more genuine, "Tyler's a good kid. He just needed someone to listen."

I nodded, my chest tightening at the memory of Tyler's newfound confidence. "Yeah, he's been… different since. More confident. More open. I just… I appreciate what you did. You didn't have to step in, but it meant a lot."

For a moment, the cocky facade he wore so well slipped, and I saw something raw, something vulnerable in his eyes.

"It wasn't a big deal," he said quietly, but the way he said it made me think he believed it was.

"It was to me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I don't know why I said it—maybe because seeing someone step up for my son meant more to me than I could articulate. Tommy didn't have to, but he did, and that mattered.

"I'd do anything for you," he murmured, so low I almost thought I imagined it.

My breath caught, his words slamming into me with the force of a freight train. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I reached across the desk, my fingers brushing his.

"Thank you," I said again, my voice breaking slightly.

For a second, neither of us moved. His eyes locked on mine, his hand turning slightly like he was going to hold mine. The air between us buzzed, electric and dangerous, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him to close the distance.

We sat there for a moment, the air between us thick with something I couldn't quite name. My brain screamed at me to keep things professional, but my heart had other ideas.

Just do it, Kim. For once in your life, stop overthinking.

And then, because life has a twisted sense of humor, Trini's voice cut through the moment like a wrecking ball.

"Kim! Oh, there you are!"

Trini's voice exploded into the room, and I yanked my hand back like I'd been burned. My heart dropped to my stomach as I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes flicking between me and Tommy with the precision of someone who had just walked in on something juicy.

Her lips curled into a grin. "Well, well. Should I come back later?"

I felt the heat rise to my face instantly. "No!" I blurted, far too loudly. "We were just—"

"Reviewing a chart," Tommy said smoothly, his poker face firmly back in place. The bastard didn't even look fazed. "Kim and I work great together," he added, his tone so casual it bordered on infuriating.

But Trini wasn't buying it. Her eyes darted between us, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. "Oh, I bet you do. Well, don't let me interrupt your… teamwork."

I could feel my face heating up, but Tommy just chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

My mortification reached new heights as I stood abruptly. "Okay, Trini, we're done here. Let's go."

"Sure thing," she said, her tone entirely too smug. As I ushered her out, I glanced back at Tommy, who met my gaze with a knowing smirk.

"Catch you later, Kim," he said, his voice low enough to make my knees weak.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But as I followed Trini down the hall, my heart was still racing. My legs moved fast and I felt the telltale sound of Trini's shoes behind me. I stole a quick glance, and there she was, looking like she was about to burst with questions.

"So…" she said, drawing the word out as she folded her arms.

"Don't," I warned, already knowing where this was going.

"Oh, I'm absolutely going to," she shot back, grinning like a manic. "What the hell was that?"

And just like that, I knew I wasn't getting out of this without a full interrogation.

Little league practice had become a regular part of my chaotic routine. I sat on the metal bleachers, cursing my decision to wear jeans instead of shorts. Trini was next to me, sipping an iced coffee and pretending she wasn't drooling over Jason Scott, who was coaching on the field with Tommy.

I followed her gaze. Her eyes were glued to Jason.

Jason Scott, in all his ridiculously athletic glory, stood on the field shouting instructions to the little ones in the Tykes division. His biceps flexed every time he gestured, and the way his whistle dangled casually from his lips? Yeah, it was doing something to her. Even I could admit the guy was attractive, but it was the way Trini kept sighing every five seconds that had me biting back laughter.

"Can you not?" I said, nudging her with my elbow.

"What?" she said innocently, tearing her eyes away from Jason for a split second. "I'm just… appreciating the view."

"You're ogling him like he's a piece of meat."

She grinned, unapologetic. "He's prime rib, Kim. Look at him."

She has it bad.

Trini let out a sigh that was halfway between dreamy and desperate. "God, he's hot. How come you never told me Jason was this hot?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on Maddox's batting stance instead of her blatant ogling. "He's not my type."

"Your type?" Trini shot back, grinning. "Kim, your type seems to include men who can ruin your life with just one look."

When Trini offered to drive us to little league because my car was in the shop, I thought it was just a nice gesture. I've come to realize it was entirely for her benefit.

I rolled my eyes, but my gaze drifted to the other coach. Tommy was standing near the pitcher's mound, hands on his hips, his black t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places. He was shouting something at Jeffrey, who was half-heartedly practicing his throws, and even from this distance, I could see the way his jaw tightened when my kid slacked off.

Of course, my brain decided to replay the memory of Tommy shirtless in a hotel room, his skin flushed and his mouth pressed against mine. Because why wouldn't it? I shook my head, trying to banish the thought, but it clung to me like humidity on a summer day.

God help me.

"You're staring at him," Trini said, her tone sharp.

I snapped my head back to her, my face heating. "I am not."

"You are. You've been doing it since we got here," she accused, though she wasn't entirely wrong.

Trini's smirk turned devilish. "You like him."

"I don't," I said too quickly, crossing my arms like it could shield me from her prying eyes.

Trini leaned closer, her voice dropping. "I know there's something. You've been weird since you signed the boys up for this league. And now that I've seen how he looks at you—"

I cut her off, my voice firm. "Trini, drop it."

Of course, she didn't.

"Oh, no. You're not getting away that easy." She grabbed my arm and spun me toward her. "Spill it, Kim. What's the deal with you and Dr. Sexy over there?"

"Nothing," I said too quickly.

Trini raised an eyebrow. "Kimberly Ann Hart. Don't you dare lie to me."

Damn it. She pulled out the full name.

I sighed, leaning back against the bleachers and tugging at the hem of my shirt. "It's… complicated."

Her eyes lit up. "Complicated? Oh, this sounds good. Tell me the truth. Did you know Tommy before this?"

The air between us felt too heavy all of a sudden. I glanced toward the field again, where Tommy was adjusting Tyler's batting grip, his hand resting briefly on my son's shoulder. My stomach twisted.

Trini followed my gaze, and her eyes narrowed. "Oh my God, you did know him. Didn't you?"

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. "Fine. Yes, I knew him. Happy?"

She gawked at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're going to give me more than that, Kim."

I chewed the inside of my cheek, debating whether I could brush her off. But this was Trini. She'd dig and poke until she got the full story.

"It was in New York."

"New York," she thought about it for a moment, and then grinned as if putting it all together. "The conference!"

I nodded, sheepishly.

Her jaw dropped. "What? And you didn't tell me?!"

"I didn't think it was a big deal," I said defensively.

She stared at me like I'd just told her I'd burned down a church. "Kim, you knew Tommy before all this, and you didn't think to mention it? What happened? Did you hook up or something?"

I winced.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh. My. God. You did. You totally hooked up with him!"

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. "It wasn't supposed to be a thing. It just… happened."

"What do you mean, 'it just happened'? You don't 'just happen' to hook up with someone like Tommy Oliver. Start talking."

I peeked at her through my fingers, her expression equal parts gleeful and shocked. "Fine," I muttered. "It was at the end of the conference. We went out for drinks, and one thing led to another…"

"And?" she pressed, leaning closer.

"And… we talked. A lot."

Her grin turned feral. "And?"

I hesitated, my gaze darting back to the field where Tommy was now tossing practice pitches to Jeffrey. The memories I'd buried—the heat of his hands on my hips, the low rasp of his voice in my ear—rushed to the surface, making my stomach flip.

"And we hooked up," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She was grinning now, like a kid on Christmas morning. "I knew something happened. I fucking knew it. Tell me everything. Was it… you know…" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, "good."

"Trini!"

"What?" she said innocently, shrugging like she hadn't just pried into my sex life. "You're the one who slept with him. You can't drop a bomb like that and expect me not to ask questions."

"But I didn't sleep with him!" I blurted, my voice louder than I intended.

Her eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"We didn't exactly… do it."

Her face twisted in confusion, "Meaning?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. This was humiliating.

"We did everything but that," I muttered, grimacing. "We didn't have condoms."

Trini stared at me for a second, then tilted her head like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Oh, Kim…" Her voice was dripping with pity as she sneaked a quick glance in Tommy's direction. "You don't use a condom with a man like Tommy Oliver."

I couldn't help it—I laughed. "Trini!"

"What?" she said, holding up her hands as if she were the picture of innocence. "It's the truth. Men like that? Built like that? You take the damn risk."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "It was a mistake, okay? A stupid, impulsive mistake."

Trini's grin didn't falter. "Didn't look like a mistake from where I'm sitting. The man can't keep his eyes off you."

"It wasn't like we planned our future together. It was… spur-of-the-moment."

"Clearly." She dropped her hands, still staring at me like I was a live grenade. "So, what happened?"

I glanced toward the field again. Tommy was now tossing pitches to Tyler, his posture easy, his movements precise. My chest tightened.

"I left," I said quietly. "I had to get back to the boys. They're not ready for someone like Tommy in my life. And he doesn't want kids. He wants someone carefree. That's not me. Besides, he never called me after that. I saw him for the first time when Jeffrey had his accident at school. He hadn't even met the boys. I thought I was never going to see him again."

Trini's expression softened, her teasing grin replaced by something more understanding. "And now he's coaching them. The universe is a messy bitch."

"You're telling me," I muttered, glancing back at Tommy. "I told you all about how the coach reacted to the boys. How awful he treated them that first day at practice. Well that's him. I know they can be a lot…especially Jeffrey, but they're hurting."

He was now crouched beside Tyler, demonstrating how to grip the ball. His voice was calm, his movements precise, and Tyler actually looked like he was paying attention. I wasn't used to this side of him—this version of Tommy who could actually connect.

He was getting through to him.

"Kim?"

"Yeah."

"You're still into him."

"That's not—" I cut myself off, my jaw tightening. "It doesn't matter. It was one night. I left before things got complicated."

"And now he's here. Looking at you like he's still thinking about that night," she said pointedly.

I snapped my head toward her, but the words I wanted to deny refused to come.

"Kim, you're blushing."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious!" She nudged me with her elbow, her voice softening. "Maybe it's not such a bad thing. You said he was awful at first, but, I mean, look at him now. He's good with Tyler, he's—"

"Complicated," I cut in. "Tommy's not someone you get involved with lightly. And I can't… I can't risk that right now. Not for me, and definitely not for my boys. The last time I let someone in, they got hurt. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to pick up the pieces again if it happens with him."

Trini frowned but didn't argue. Instead, she reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You're clearly not over it," she said, gesturing to Tommy with her coffee cup. "You've been sneaking glances at him all afternoon. You can't tell me you don't still feel something."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words wouldn't come. Because she wasn't entirely wrong.

"I can't go there," I said instead, my voice quieter. "It's too messy. My kids… my life… everything's too complicated for someone like him."

"Someone like him?"

I sighed. "He's not exactly relationship material, Trini. He's… intense. And cocky. And frustrating as hell."

"And sexy as fuck," she added helpfully.

"Not the point."

"Look, all I'm saying is maybe you should stop overthinking it. Life's short, Kim. If there's something there, why not see where it goes?"

I glanced at Tommy again, my stomach doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did when he was around.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," she said. "But maybe… don't close the door completely. Just think about it, okay?"

I nodded, though my gaze drifted back to the field. Tommy was laughing at something Jason said, his face relaxed in a way I didn't see often.

Think about it?

Yeah, that's exactly the problem.

Author note: Hey there! Hope you guys enjoyed this one. More is coming soon! As always, let me know what you guys think in a review or PM! Thank you for reading my little story!