“You know it’s what I am paid to do,” she said quietly. “Ferret out a secret and expose it. It’s my job.”

“I don’t think I like your job.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you.”

He let out a low laugh.

“What Ty’s doing is wrong.” She came right up to him, put a hand on his chest. “But I didn’t reveal where Ty got the stimulants.”

He paused. “You didn’t expose Red?”

“Or Tucker. Because I don’t have specific proof that that’s where Ty got it from.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

“You’re supposed to understand that it was going to get out anyway, that I’m merely doing my job. Ty is guilty, Pace.”

“Jesus.” He jammed his fingers into his hair and turned away from her. “So what do you want from me?”

“Truthfully?” She walked around him to look into his eyes, her own solemn. “I wasn’t sure until you opened the door and looked happy to see me in spite of the fact that I’ve pissed you off. I want this thing that’s happening between us. I really want it, more than I could have fathomed. But I can see now that’s a silly little dream.”

His heart seemed to swell against his ribs. “Why?”

“Because you say you don’t want anyone to walk away from you but you’re not . . . available. You’re baseball. No room for more. Certainly no room for a girlfriend who dares to question some of the practices of your sport.”

No. She was wrong. He was more than baseball. Or so he’d wanted to be. But she was gone, out the door, leaving himself feeling like he’d somehow just screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.

—Robert Frost

Holly’s article came out the next morning, and by noon, her cell phone was full of unhappy messages.

“I thought better of you than this,” Sam’s said. “I gave you access to these guys for your articles thinking you’d get some great new angles on the sport and we’d get some coverage, and this is how you repay us? I thought we were friends, Holly.”

Gage’s was no easier to listen to. “I need you to explain to me what the fuck you thought you were doing when you wrote this article. You might as well have put a big fat red circle around Ty, whose been ordered for drug testing tomorrow instead of pitching for us.”

Wade wasn’t much happier.

Or Henry.

But perhaps the toughest message was the one that didn’t come at all.

Pace remained silent.