When they arrived at the hotel, Pace had to jump through hoops for the team doc before getting to go to his room. They would evaluate him in detail back at home, but the grim consensus was that he’d most likely torn his rotator cuff. Alone in his room, Pace stripped down to his shorts, stood in front of the blasting AC and breathed in the blissful silence until someone knocked on his door.

Hoping it was someone with a hammer to bash in his head and put him out of his misery, he pulled open the door and found Red. “I don’t want to watch any tapes.” He stood blocking the doorway. “I don’t want to even think about baseball.”

“What crazy talk is that? Baseball is all you think about.”

“Yeah, well things change.” His every movement was agony. Plus, he was feeling the need to beat something up.

Or sleep with someone.

Holly.

“You’re hurting,” Red said, gazing worriedly over Pace like a mother hen. “Let me call a masseuse in for you or get you something for the pain.”

“They already offered me something for pain.” He knew nothing would help, not the knee-weakening fire in his shoulder or the wrenching ache in his gut because he was afraid, so fucking afraid. “I don’t need anything.” Except maybe a lobotomy. Yeah, that would help. He could stop hurting and stop thinking. Thinking and wondering how it’d happened that he had no life, and that he’d never even noticed until now.

“You need something to sleep,” Red said. “So you can heal better, faster. Whatever you want, just name it. Vico din? Something strong? Have you been taking the vitamins Tucker gave you? I have some herbal shit from Tucker that’s amazing. You should see what it did for Ty—”

“I’m good, Red.”

“But—”

“I said I’m good. Jesus.”

Red stared at him. “Fine. Stare at the ceiling all night, in pain when you don’t have to be.” Turning stiffly, he stalked off, hurt, and Pace sighed. “Don’t do that. Dammit, Red.”

But Red kept walking. The man was as stubborn as a damn ox. “Fine. I’ll take the damn pills,” Pace called after him, even stepping into the hallway, but Red didn’t stop.

Shaking his head, Pace turned back to his door, nearly plowing over Holly. God, not her, not now. He didn’t want her to see him like this, and he sure as hell couldn’t take the way she looked at him, as if even in spite of not believing in happily-ever-afters, she secretly hoped he was hers.

He had no happily-ever-after in his future.

Her gaze tracked up his nearly naked body to meet his. “I’d ask you if you were okay,” she said. “But I know the drill by now. You’d just say—”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “That. Pace . . . are you okay?”