14. Ronan

Ronan

"Daddy!" Peyton's shriek has heads turning as she barrels toward me, my mom following more slowly behind, pushing a luggage cart piled with suitcases. I sweep my daughter up and into my arms, that piece of my heart settling back into place the way it always does when I'm reunited with her.

"Hey, Rocket," I say, pressing a kiss to her head. "Missed you."

"I missed you more," she mumbles into my shoulder.

I smile. "I missed you the most." Stretching one arm out, I pull my mom in for a side hug. "Hey, Mom, how was your flight?"

"Fine. This one was an angel, as usual."

"Oh, yeah?" I look at Peyton. "How many episodes of Bluey did you watch?"

"Eleventy!" she announces proudly and I just laugh, arching my brow at Mom in mock judgment.

Mom gently swats my arm. "Listen, if a cartoon dog keeps her happy while she's strapped into an airplane seat, then so be it."

"No complaints here. I'm just happy to finally have you both in Vancouver." I smile and set Peyton down before taking over the luggage cart. "Hey, Pey, do you want to go for a swim when we get to the hotel?"

"Yes!"

Her excitement doesn't diminish at all the entire drive from the airport into downtown Vancouver. There's a little bit of melting snow on the ground, and it's grey and dismal outside, but Mom and Peyton eagerly look around at our new hometown.

It's only when we finally reach the hotel suite I moved into this morning to make room for Mom and Peyton that she starts to fade. "Maybe a nap before the pool, kiddo."

"But Daddy," she whines, and I shake my head.

"Nope, you've had a long day. And if we're gonna go out for dinner tonight, you need to be awake so you don't face-plant into your pizza."

That earns me a tired giggle. I take Peyton's special blanket that Mom has already fished out of a suitcase for me with a grateful smile.

"I'm going to take a shower, then possibly nap myself," she murmurs, gesturing to her room.

I nod, then pick up my daughter and carry her into my room. I've already set up the cot for Peyton, so it takes no time at all before I've got her tucked in, blanket in one hand, and Snowberry the stuffed bear in the other.

"Snooze for a bit, then we'll go swimming, okay?" I whisper, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. Peyton's eyes are already drooping as she nods.

I stay there, watching my beautiful little girl drift off into an easy sleep. My heart is full, so fucking full of love for this girl. She's the reason for everything I do, every decision I make has her in mind.

Except for Hawaii. That's the first time since she was born that I did something solely for myself. The world didn't fall apart, I didn't fuck everything up, even if I was on the other side of the continent when she got hurt. It turned out to just be a sprain, not a fracture, and by the time I got home, they were back from the hospital with her little arm in a splint. Did I battle some parental guilt the entire twelve plus hours it took to get home? Of fucking course I did. But Peyton's fine, everything's fine, and now she's at last here with me.

As much as I hate it, Willow's right that nothing can happen between us now. I have to focus on what's important: baseball and my family.

"What do you think, Rocket?" I grin as I tug the Tridents jersey over Peyton's head. When we showed up at the stadium half an hour ago, I was stunned by the welcome my daughter and Mom got from the team. They're both now decked out head to toe in turquoise and gold, Tridents colours. Everyone has been amazing, greeting them both like they're family.

Which is exactly what I hoped for. Don't get me wrong, the two teams I've played for since Peyton was born were fine. They didn't give me too much trouble being a single dad, but especially in the early days, it was hard leaving my baby girl.

So far the Tridents' management has shown me childcare facilities that some of their staff use that Peyton can access if Mom is ever unavailable, and introduced us to the mascot, not to mention all of the gifts.

"I like the colours." Peyton tugs on my hand. "But can we see the field now?"

I chuckle. My girl loves the bright green grass and dirt path of a baseball diamond almost as much as I do. "You bet."

I pick her up, and with one last nod of thanks to the HR guy who was on hand to welcome us this morning, we head toward the elevators that lead from the office level down to the field level. Peyton is busy chattering in my ear about something when the elevator doors open, and Willow looks up from her phone.

Fuck, she's stunning. Wide-legged black pants hug her hips, and a blue body suit skims her upper body. Her lips are painted a bright red, and I want to kiss it off her.

Nope. No, I don't.Okay, that's a lie. I do, but I won't. I can't. Jesus fucking Christ. Did I say she's hard to resist? More like impossible. Being this close to her and not touching her? It's torture.

"Ronan," she says softly, then her eyes widen as she takes in my company. But Willow being Willow, she recovers instantly, a professional smile — big, but lacking in the genuine warmth I know she has inside of her — spreading across her face. "This must be your family." She puts her hand out and shakes Mom's hand. "I'm Willow, from the media relations team."

"Pam Sinclair. Lovely to meet you." Mom gives Willow an appraising look. She doesn't miss a damn thing. And Willow's first reaction at seeing us was more telling than she probably wanted it to be.

"And this must be Peyton." Willow beams at my daughter, but there's a hidden wistfulness that surprises me. "You look pretty great in your dad's jersey."

Peyton responds with a toothy grin. "Thanks. We're gonna go see the field now. I'm gonna hit some balls. Wanna come?"

Willow laughs lightly. "That sounds awesome, but I have to go to a meeting. I hope you have a great time."

Willow's eyes dart up to mine before bouncing back to my family. "Nice to meet you both. Ronan."

I give her a nod, and she brushes past in a cloud of sweet citrus. I have to exercise a lot of restraint to not turn and watch her walk away, but I can feel my mom's eyes boring into me.

"Okay, let's go to the field!" I say with way more enthusiasm than is probably necessary. We pile into the elevator and I let Peyton push the button, all the while keeping my gaze averted from Mom.

When we reach field level, I take them on a quick tour of the player facilities. Outside the gym, we run into Monty and Lark, the trainer the guys told me about, standing close together, having what seems to be a pretty intense conversation. Judging by the way they leap apart when I greet them, I'm starting to think Rhett's comment about Monty's feelings for Lark has some truth behind it.

"Hey guys, this my mom Pam and my daughter Peyton. We're just doing a little tour before checking out the field."

"Yo, Sin!" Monty gives me a fist pump and greets my family with a big smile, and it just reinforces again that moving here was a good idea.

"Hey Peyton, do you like Skittles?" Lark asks, her gaze darting up to mine to check if it's okay. I nod.

"I love them!" Peyton cheers, because what kid doesn't love candy.

Lark takes her hand and we follow her down the hall to what I assume is her treatment room, where she opens a drawer and lifts out a small treat-sized package of candy.

"Woah, you're letting her have some of Willow's secret stash?" Monty teases, leaning against the doorframe. My head whips around of its own accord at her name, but thankfully, no one seems to notice.

"Shh. She won't miss one package." Lark winks at Peyton.

My curious daughter tilts her head to the side and frowns. "Why do you have someone else's Skittles?"

Lark laughs, shaking her head. "They're her favourite candy, and if she has them in her office, she can't stop eating them. She says she would look like a Skittle from eating so many if I didn't keep them for her."

My daughter giggles, and I inwardly file that random fact away. There's so much I don't know about the captivating woman, and every time I learn something, I find myself wanting to know more. A serious problem when the lady in question is someone I really need to stay away from.

We say goodbye to Lark and Monty, and I lead Mom and Peyton through the locker room, then the dugout, and finally out onto the field. It still fills me with immense pride to walk out onto a major league field, even after six years.

I was lucky enough to be drafted into the minors right out of university and moved to the majors two years later. I spent a season down in Texas before moving to Toronto, which is also where I met Peyton's mom. When she told me she didn't want to keep the baby we conceived, thanks to a busted condom, it almost derailed my entire career. If my mom hadn't stepped in and insisted she would help me do this single parent thing, I don't know where I'd be. Because my daughter comes first, no matter what.

Watching her take off, running the bases with pure joy, just reinforces that. Her happiness is all that matters, and if I had to, I'd give up baseball in a second for her. Thank fuck I haven't had to make that decision yet. Her happy giggle floats back to us. Just like her dad, my kid has always been happiest out on the diamond.

"So, that Willow was quite beautiful."

"Don't start, Mom," I warn, unable to outright deny her statement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mom lift her hands. "Simply making an observation."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself. I'm here to play ball. That's all." I fold my arms across my chest, but then drop them less than a minute later when Peyton rounds third and comes racing toward us. I crouch down, arms stretched wide, and she barrels into me. I let her push me back to the dirt, both of us laughing.

This. This is what matters.

Not stunning women with cherry red lips.