30. Ronan

Ronan

"You keep staring at that phone like it's magically gonna sprout wings and fly away."

Of all the people I would've expected to drop down into the seat next to me on the bus carrying us to our hotel, Maverick wasn't even on the list. My frown deepens as I flip my phone upside down.

It's been three days since I last saw Willow in her uncle's office. Three days since I said I loved her and she didn't even acknowledge it. Three fucking days since she last communicated with me at all. A two-word text that simply said, I'm home.

I'm no idiot, I know she wants space right now, even though every fiber of my being wants to be with her, hold her, and tell her everything will be okay. Except I don't know that it will. Not until I can talk to her. In my caveman protect-at-all-costs-claim-her-as-mine moment, I revealed our secret and my feelings. And I haven't stopped berating myself ever since.

And of course, we had to leave on a six day away series the very next morning. I texted her before we left, an apology even I know isn't nearly good enough, and a plea to talk as soon as she's willing. My hope was that she'd call, but I think I have to accept this isn't going to be fixed while I'm away.

But knowing whether or not she's alright would be a really good thing right now.

We're currently somewhere in the midwestern United States, but my head is back in Vancouver. A fact that hasn't gone unnoticed by the rest of my team. Thankfully, my ankle is fine, and I was declared fit to play by the team doctors and Lark before we left. If only I could blame my yips on an injury instead of the mess with Willow…

Yesterday, I struck out both times I was at the plate. I missed an easy pop fly in the third inning, and my throws have been wild. I'm playing like absolute shit, and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone came to talk to me about it. After all, the gossip about what went down the other evening has spread like wildfire. Everyone knows I punched a guy and why. Just like everyone saw me kiss Willow's head and has jumped to the logical conclusion.

Which brings me back to my initial surprise that Maverick, of all people, is the one to be here.

"Willow doing okay?" he asks, taking a small circular metal object out of his pocket, flipping it between his fingers.

I let out an aggravated huff. "If I knew, I wouldn't be checking my phone."

He just nods, staring straight ahead. Damn, this guy is hard to read.

"She's good people. If you were defending her, then that makes you good people, too."

With that statement, Maverick stands up and moves to the back of the bus. I crane my neck to follow him, somewhat baffled. That's all he came here to say? Good job for defending Willow? What the fuck?

I twist back around and like a putz, check my phone again. Still nothing. Letting my head fall back against the headrest, I close my eyes and try to stop worrying about what it means that she still hasn't responded to me.

We pull into the hotel we're staying at tonight and everyone files out of the bus. It's late; I just want to go to sleep and hope that tomorrow Willow ends the communication freeze before I have to go out on the field again.

But that's not in the cards for me. As we enter the hotel, someone calls out my name. I turn and see none other than the Tridents' owner exiting a dark SUV. He buttons his suit jacket and strides over to me. That's a surprise, seeing as he doesn't usually travel to away games. Which means he must be here for a reason other than baseball.

My stomach feels like it fills with lead.

"Have a drink with me, Sinclair."

There's no way I can decline, even if a drink with Willow's uncle, who may or may not approve of our relationship is the last fucking thing I want to do right now.

"Yes, sir."

I follow him into the building, veering left to the hotel bar instead of right to the concierge. Monty looks over with a concerned expression, but I pretend not to notice. Instead, I sit down next to Mike at the bar.

"Two bourbons. Neat." The bartender gives Mike a nod, and only then does he turn to me. "Hope that's okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks." My voice is gruff, unease filling me. I don't know what to say right now, what questions he might ask and how I should answer. I fucked up once already, and I really don't want to do it again.

"Ronan, I'll cut to the chase. What you did for Willow might have caused a bit of a nightmare behind the scenes, but I'm grateful. You protected someone who I consider family." The bartender sets down our drinks, and Mike picks his up, tilting his head at me. "Thank you for defending our girl. I know she's processing a lot right now, and she likes to push people away when she's dealing with emotions. Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of a Willow Lawson freeze-out. But she'll come around."

I toy with my glass before answering. "I hope you're right, sir. But Willow has every right to be upset with me. She wanted to keep our relationship a secret because she was really concerned about it potentially causing issues with her position with the Tridents. And if I can be blunt, your reaction to it. If she has a lot to process right now, that's mostly my fault for not keeping our relationship private the other night."

"She had no reason to be concerned about my reaction, and I'll carry the guilt for somehow making her think she did." He takes a sip of his drink and fixes me with a cool, unwavering stare. "Did you mean it?"

I lower my glass and swallow the smooth liquor before asking, "Meant what, exactly?"

"When you said you loved her. Did you mean it? Because if you did, then you better understand that she deserves the world. More than that. She deserves everything a man can give her. That woman might seem strong and independent, but inside, she's lonely. Her parents didn't want her. Her adoptive dad, God rest his soul, loved her immensely but died far too soon. I've done my best, but it's not the same. She wants someone who loves her above anything else. Someone who will make a family with her. Someone who will cherish her and never let her feel alone again. Someone who will defend her, protect her, and stand at her side, just as you did. But I need to know if you're truly going to be that man for her, now and forever. Because if you're not, then walk away."

I try to catch up to everything he's said and everything it means. "You're not mad that we're dating?"

Mike scoffs, waving his hand as he picks up his drink. "Hell, no. And I said this to her the other night. You're two consenting adults. As long as you treat her right, with love and respect, and don't let it affect your performance on the field anymore, I have no problem with it. I recognize she's faced adversity being a woman in a man's world and fighting against those who believe I'd be stupid enough to hire her just because of our relationship. The last thing she wanted was to be seen as just a WAG, the same as she never wanted to be seen as a nepo hire. But neither one of those are true, and I know it just as well as you do. She needs someone to help her believe it, even when people challenge her on it. So if you love Willow and can make her happy, then that's all that matters."

"I don't plan on saying those particular words again until I'm certain she's ready to hear it directly from me and without an audience," I say solemnly. "But rest assured, what you just said is what I believe as well."

"Then there's no problem I can see except for how we're going to get your head back in the game. I need my star player back."

This time I raise my glass first, inclining my head toward the man who's just single-handedly told me I have a chance at having everything I've ever wanted.

"Thank you, sir. I promise you, I'll be ready for tomorrow."

The clink of our glasses has my lips quirking up. The struggle isn't over; I still have to convince Willow to give our relationship a chance to exist out in the open. But having Mike on my side should make that task a whole hell of a lot easier.

A short while later, I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. Picking up my phone, I ignore the pang in my chest when there's still nothing from Willow. There is, however, a message from my mom, saying Peyton's heading to bed soon.

After I pull on some pajama pants, I sit back against the headboard of the bed and open up a video call with them. As soon as the screen fills with my little girl, I grin. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Hi Daddy! Can I see your room?"

I dutifully stand up and take her on a brief tour of my room, including pointing the phone out the window, despite the sky already being dark. When I'm done, I settle back on the bed. "So what did you get up to today?"

"Gran took me to the park at my new school, then we went for ice cream, and then I coloured a picture for Willow. Wanna see it?"

"Of course, I do." My stomach flip-flops. The one piece of the puzzle I haven't yet fully thought through is Peyton. If Willow can't move forward with our relationship, my little girl will be devastated. She's just as attached as I am. Peyton disappears from the screen for a couple of minutes before returning, brandishing a green piece of paper. She holds it up, and I see a drawing of four stick figures, and something I assume is an animal. There's a small circle above their heads, and their hands are up.

"Looks great, baby girl. Can you describe it to me?"

"It's you, me, Gran, and Willow playing baseball. Can't you tell?" Peyton sounds exasperated in a way only a four-year-old can. "See? There's the ball. You're gonna catch it. And that's the dog I wanna get."

"A dog, huh?" I force a smile, even as my throat feels thick with emotion. "I love it, Pey. You're a great artist."

"I wanna give it to Willow. When is she coming over again?" Peyton bounces up and down on the couch in the family room, the same couch where she was cuddled up against Willow watching a movie not that long ago.

As soon as she asks that oh-so-innocent question, that thick feeling in my throat intensifies. Because it's not one I can easily answer. "I'm not really sure. I'll talk to her when I get home, how about that?"

"'Kay. And will you give her my picture?" Peyton goes on, blissfully unaware of how her dear old dad is tied up in knots about the very woman she wants to give a drawing.

"You bet," I answer, raking my hand through my still-damp hair. "It's bedtime now, though. I'll be home in a couple of days, maybe you could draw me a picture as well? My locker at the stadium could use something new."

"I'll draw you one like Willow's. Then you guys can match."

"Sounds great." I muster up a smile. "Now, get your booty to bed."

"Love you, Daddy."

My smile automatically grows a lot bigger at those three words. "Love you, too, Rocket."

We hang up, but I don't put my phone down. Instead, I switch over to my text messages and hover over Willow's name. I want to respect her need for space, but I also need her to know I'm not giving up easily.

RONAN: Hey Cherry. Just want to say I miss you, and I hope I haven't screwed things up so badly that I never get a chance to tell you I'm sorry in person. Or to say the other words I shouldn't have said that day, even if they were – and still are – true. I'll give you as much space as you need, I swear. But I'm not giving up on us. And I'm not going to let you give up without a fight.

I stare at my screen after I hit send, overthinking every word I just typed. Until my phone starts to vibrate in my hand with an incoming video call.

My mouth goes instantly dry as I hit answer. "Hi."

Willow's beautiful face fills my screen, making my heart ache. Fuck, I wish I was there right now.

"Hey," she replies softly, and I see her settle into the corner of her couch. "I hope this is okay to just call?"

God, I hate that she sounds unsure. As if I would be upset that she called. "Cherry, this is more than okay. It's so good to see you. I've missed you."

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready to talk, it was just…so much happened that day. I needed a minute."

"Baby, don't apologize for needing some time. Please." I want to reach through the phone and pull her into my arms, to ease the stress written all over her face. "I hope you know just how sorry I am for how things went down that night. I'm not apologizing for defending you against that asshole, or with Lydia, but I am sorry for the outcome. For our relationship ending up public knowledge before you were really ready for that. And I never should have confessed my feelings in front of your uncle and Lydia. Not only because you wanted us to keep things a secret, but because that's not the way you deserve to hear me say I'm falling in love with you. You deserve to hear those words when it's just you and me, and when I can not only say them, but show you. But I'm not going to deny those feelings any longer, either. I can't."

I watch her brush away a tear from her cheek when I finally finish blurting out my apology and my hand clenches in the sheets beside me. I'm trying hard not to be frustrated that we're having this conversation over the phone, instead of when I'm home and can hold her. But I'll be damned if I'm not going to seize this opportunity to tell her how I feel.

"I love you, Willow Lawson. I never expected to, never thought I deserved to have a woman like you when I'm already blessed with a career like mine and an amazing daughter. I didn't think I could have it all, but now I realize I just never found a woman who was worth fighting for. A woman who would be worth the work of balancing a demanding career, my daughter, and a relationship. But you're worth it. Hell, you deserve even more than what I can give you, but I'm hoping you'll let me try to be the man you deserve."

"Ronan," she starts with a whisper, and my heart freezes. "I hear you. I hear those beautiful words, and I want to be ready to say them back. But you have to understand, everything I thought I knew, or believed to be true, has been flipped upside down. And I know it's a good thing. That Uncle Mike is fine with our relationship. But things have changed now that everyone knows about us, and I just need a minute to wrap my head around that new reality."

"Cherry, you take whatever time you need to adjust. Just know that I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not giving up on us. What we have is too good, too right. You need to see that it's safe to love me, that nothing bad will happen, and I swear, I'll be right here waiting to prove that to you whenever you're ready."