Without Pace, the Heat pulled Ty up to a starter. He was good, but not good enough to take the Dodgers, and they lost their next two games. The press continued their massacre of the entire team, and the uneasiness in Pace’s chest swelled, tightening against his rib cage.

Because no matter how he tried to spin it, things had gone straight to hell.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the
Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.

—George F. Will

Sam was extremely careful with the press release regarding Pace’s injury. Careful and optimistic, stating only that Pace had a strained his rotator cuff, to be treated with PT. Then Gage made him go into seclusion—no cell calls, no computer, nothing but PT and rest for three days.

He was kept busy with that and icing, along with lower-body workouts.

On the forth day, feeling caged in, he used Wade’s cell phone and called Holly. He didn’t know why, other than he just wanted to hear her or better yet, see her. “How about dinner?” he asked when she answered.

“Why, Wade,” she murmured in his ear. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Funny,” he said dryly, nearly laughing for the first time in days. “Say yes.”

“Yes to dinner, and yes to news on you.”

“I didn’t offer news on me.”

She sighed in his ear, a soft, anxious sound that made him feel like a jerk. “Just tell me this,” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

“Fantastic.”

“The truth, Pace.”

“I’m working on being okay.”

“Fair enough. Dinner would be great. So would an interview.”

Hell. “I was thinking steak and a drink, and no interview.”

“Fine, be mysterious. Name the place and I’ll meet you. I’m in Los Angeles at a meeting with my publisher, but I’ll be back in a few hours.”

They arranged a time and place, but when Pace showed up at the restaurant, Wade and Henry were already there. He stared at them, knowing he wasn’t going to like this. “What are you doing?”

“Gage sent us.” Wade wisely handed Pace a drink to go with that news. “We’re on babysitting duty.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you can look, but you can’t touch,” Henry instructed in a perfect imitation of Gage, and when Pace scowled, he quickly added, “You know that was the Skip, right? Not me.”

“You can tell Gage where to put his orders, and that’s right up his—”

Holly came up to the table then, with a sweet, welcoming smile. “Hi, guys.” She set a hand on Pace’s arm and looked into his eyes and made him forget his own name. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Her hand ran lightly over his bandaged shoulder. “There’s that fine again.”

“Well I’m fine now,” he clarified, knowing by her warm smile that she understood it was because of her presence.