20. Willow

Willow

Bringing the team to the Vancouver Children's Hospital to visit with the kids is always a highlight event. Seeing the faces of all those children absolutely light up when the players and our mascot come walking into the room is the most soul-filling thing ever. We always plan one for right after the season begins, so the players are full of energy and excitement.

And the guys love it. It might be surprising to some, but baseball players really are just overgrown kids, playing their favourite backyard game from childhood on a much bigger scale. Which makes them the perfect candidates to get down on the floor and play with actual children.

Today is no exception. Kai, Monty, Darling, Ronan, and a few others are scattered throughout the giant, colourful playroom, the one we take over for this event each year, with a group of kids clustered around them. The energy is high, with lots of laughter in the air, and more than a few parents stand on the outskirts with happy tears in their eyes.

"Another successful day?" I turn to face Sadie LeDuc, the head of fundraising for the hospital's foundation. We connected a couple of years ago when she approached the Tridents for silent auction donations, and now she makes a point of stopping by any time the team visits. We've gone for drinks a few times, and even though she's a lot quieter and more conservative than I am, I like her.

"You know it," I reply, my gaze roaming over the room. Sadie shifts next to me, her gold-rimmed glasses falling down her nose slightly. Her red hair is pulled back tightly in a bun, and her black turtleneck sweater is tucked into high-waisted pants that look like she actually ironed the crease into the front of them.

"Want to grab a drink tonight?" I ask. I'd planned on inviting Lark out as well, since I'm craving some girl time. And with Tori not living locally anymore, I'm trying to do better at strengthening the other friendships I have in the city.

Sadie nods and gives me a quick smile. "That would be lovely, I'll check that Dirk and I don't have any plans. Can I text you?"

God, that boyfriend of hers. The couple of times I've met him, I've instantly wanted to shower afterward. He's just one of those guys that is equal parts smarmy and stick-in-the-mud. For all that Sadie's got this whole good girl thing going on, she deserves better than a boring, buttoned-up guy like him.

Then again, who am I to comment or make judgments on other people's relationships when I'm busy spending all of my time avoiding the only man to ever make me want something more.

"Sounds good." I touch her hand briefly. "I better get back to work. We'll catch up tonight."

After Sadie leaves, I make my rounds with the parents, making sure we have media releases signed where necessary, ensuring they know they can step out and get some refreshments from the table we have set up next door, and they've got their swag packs that include open-ended ticket offers for the current season. Other than those tasks, I get to spend my time chatting with anyone who seems like they could use some adult conversation that doesn't revolve around their child's hospitalization.

But throughout it all, my attention keeps wandering over to one tall, handsome man currently sitting on a small sofa with a video game controller in his hands. Kids are pressed in on either side of him, cheering on both him and the little girl who's racing him in Mario Kart. Ronan's got a wide grin on his face and is so relaxed among the kids. Makes sense, seeing as he has one of his own, but I had wondered if it would be hard for him, seeing sick kids and maybe imagining Peyton in their place.

The very thought makes me shudder involuntarily. Picturing that sweet girl in a hospital bed with tubes attached the way some of these little warriors have makes my heart hurt. I can't imagine the strength it takes for these parents — let alone the kids — to face this day in and day out.

As if he knows I'm thinking about him, Ronan lifts his head, his eyes finding me instantly. A small smile tugs at his lips and I feel my own turning up in return.

"He's a handsome one," the mom standing next to me remarks quietly. We'd just been talking about her teenage son who recently underwent a leg amputation because of an aggressive form of cancer. I should have been paying attention to her, not smiling at Ronan.

"Sorry?" I say, trying to pretend I don't know exactly who she's talking about.

But her shoulder softly nudges mine as she gives me a look that is a little too observant. "The new player that's sitting over on the couch. The one who can't stop looking at you. Lucky lady." Her smile is nothing but kind and friendly, but I suddenly feel a little too warm.

"Oh, that's not… He's not… I mean…"

Shit. Why am I so flustered, and in front of a stranger, no less? This is bad. I give myself a mental shake before turning slightly so I'm no longer facing Ronan. "There's nothing to see there. Can I get you a refill on that coffee?" I gesture to the mug in her hands.

She just shakes her head, still with that knowing look. "I'm good, thank you. And thanks again for organizing this. It means so much to the kids, and I know Bobby is looking forward to coming to a game once he's out of here. He loved playing baseball before…" Her voice trails off as her eyes start to brim with tears.

Her pain is palpable, and I hate that I can't do more to take it away. Fucking cancer. Hearing someone call my name from the hallway, I give her a small smile, pull out my business card, and covertly pass it to her. "Give me a call when you pick your date, and we'll arrange for Bobby to throw out the first pitch. Baseball doesn't have to be gone from his life forever."

She throws her arms around me for a quick hug, and when we break apart, her eyes are still shining wet, but there's gratitude in among the grief.

"Thank you."

Giving her a quick nod, I hurry out into the hall. The instant I'm not in the same room as Ronan, I can breathe a little easier.

But the issue in the hall proves to be inconsequential, Sheena simply needing me to figure out a network setup so she can post to our social media. Which means, minutes later, I'm back in the room. Ronan's no longer on the couch; now he's leaning over an air hockey table with his back to me. Meaning that ass, covered in denim, is pointing straight at me.

I have to bite my lip to hold back a whimper. Good freaking God, this is getting ridiculous. Why can't I move on? Why can't I just accept that while he might very well be the hottest man on the entire planet, he's not someone I can ever be with.

My eyes close for just a second as I lean against the wall, fighting to hold on to my control, my rules, my self-preservation. I haven't made it this far in my life and in my career to throw it all away simply because I fell for a handsome man.

Except, even as I think that to myself, guilt swirls inside of me. Because I know Ronan is so much more than just a pretty face. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be so twisted up inside with wanting to be with him.

"Did that wall do something to hurt you, or is your scowl directed at someone else?"

My eyes fly open at the sound of his voice coming from much closer to me than I thought he was. "I'm not scowling."

His bemused smirk tells me otherwise.

"You shouldn't be here talking to me," I hiss under my breath, folding my arms over my chest. "You're meant to be socializing with the kids."

"I have been," he says, far too calmly for my liking. "And I was just on my way to grab a cup of water when I saw you looking like Eeyore, and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

I can already feel my resolve softening. Nope. Can't. Straightening up, I push away from the wall. "I'm fine." As I move to walk away, his hand catches the inside of my elbow in a light hold.

"Are you? Because I'm not."

I glance down at his hand, and as soon as he drops it from my arm, I look up at him, with what I hope is cool detachment and not the desperate yearning I actually feel.

"You need to figure that out for yourself, Sinclair. Because these little moments you keep trying to have with me have to stop."

His jaw clenches for a second, then relaxes. I hate the flash of sadness I see cross his face, hating even more that I'm the cause of it. But the resolve in his voice when he speaks belies any sorrow.

"Eventually, you're going to have to face the reality that whatever this is between us isn't going to just disappear because you want to ignore it. You can push me away, but that doesn't erase anything. It's still here. I'm still here."

I turn my face up to him, ready to deny what he's saying even though it would be a bald-faced lie, but before I can get a word out, someone calls his name from across the room. He looks over and lifts his hand in a wave of acknowledgment before looking back at me. And before he walks away, he leaves with a parting shot straight to my heart.

"I'm here, Cherry. And my feelings aren't going anywhere."