Sam came into the room, carrying her newly printed brochures for the upcoming Poker Night. “Pace? You okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.”

Gage came in next and also gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything. Pace managed to avoid sitting next to him, sitting instead next to Ty, who had returned from pitching practice with Red and was now leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, waiting for the rest of management to arrive. Ty could be counted on not to ask questions. And also to carry water. Spying Ty’s water bottle, Pace picked it up and chugged it, and finally began to relax.

When Pace set the empty bottle back down, Ty opened his eyes, looked at what Pace had done, and said, “Hey.”

“I’ll get you more—”

Ty stopped him from getting up. “Don’t worry about it. But I had a mix in it.”

“Tucker’s vitamin pack? Or did I just drug myself?” Pace joked.

Ty laughed. “Yeah, good thing we’ve already both had our testing for the season.”

“Yeah.” So he’d just doubled his vitamin intake today. Hell, maybe it would perform some miracle on his aching body. His shoulder was killing him, and he couldn’t get comfortable no matter what position he did.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Flat on his back with Holly riding him had been a pretty great position. So had been being on his knees behind her . . .

Somehow he survived the team meeting, listening to Gage talk about the upcoming game he wouldn’t be playing. Afterward, in the parking lot, Gage caught up with him and gave Pace a long look.

Ah, Christ. He braced himself. “What now?”

“You’re looking a little loose.”

Was he wearing a Just Been Laid sign? “Don’t worry, Dad, I used protection.”

“Goddammit.”

“Oh, and I also doubled up on the vitamins today, so all is good.”

Gage sighed.

“Don’t start. I’m having surgery tomorrow.”

Gage’s face filled with sympathy. “I know.”

Pace turned away, looking at the Santa Ynez Mountains, not seeing the peaks but his own bleak future. “I guess I just needed . . .” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

“Yeah.” Gage sighed and shook his head. “Forget it. There’s something else anyway.”

At the serious tone, Pace turned back to him, a little surprised to see the somber light in Gage’s eyes.

“You remember after Ty and Henry’s thing, the commissioner said they were going to randomly test some of us.”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re up. When you go in for your pre-op workup later today, they’re drug testing you as well.”

Well, wasn’t that a nice cap on his day. “Fine.”

Gage lifted a brow. “Fine?”

“Well, it sucks, but I have nothing to hide.”

Gage let out a breath. “Okay then.”

“Did you think I did?”

“I know you’re in considerable pain all the time. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d been taking something to offset it.”

“Something that would show up on a drug test? Jesus, Skip.”

“Just checking.”

Pace knew his sport, knew the reputation it had, but with the new rulings in place, with a first-time offense for steroids being a fifty-game suspension, and a twenty-five game suspension for stimulants, people weren’t going to mess around with their careers.

At least he wasn’t.

“You’re not the only one being tested,” Gage said. “If that helps.”

At Gage’s tone, Pace looked over. “You worried?”

“When are you going to learn?” Gage let out a breath. “I’m always worried.”

Later that afternoon, the Heat headed to Baltimore, and for the first time, Pace was left behind. He was back at home gathering gear to go meet the kids at the park when his father called.

“Surgery tomorrow, right?”

Pace had e-mailed him last week to tell him the news, but that his father was actually calling to offer some sympathy was so far from the marine drill instructor’s usual tactic—which was to say something along the lines of “Suck it up and take it like a man”—that Pace was stunned.

“Yes,” he said, surprised. He moved to his front window and looked out, frowning at the movement at the end of the driveway. Probably deer again, eating the wildflowers. He’d always wanted a big, dopey, happy mutt to chase them away, but he was gone too much for a dog. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will. Just do what you have to and get back in the game. You don’t want anyone calling you a pansy-ass for taking a break midseason.”

Pace let out a low laugh. Okay, so he wasn’t calling to offer sympathy. “Yeah. Thanks for the call.”

“I’m your emergency contact, I assume. So I’ll hear if anything goes wrong.”

Actually, Wade and Red were his emergency contacts. “I’ll make sure you hear. Bye, Dad.”

But his father was already gone. “Pansy-ass,” Pace muttered, and frowned at another movement on the driveway, and a flash of blue. Okay, that wasn’t a deer. He headed outside, but when he got out there, he saw nothing.

Tia?

Since he had bigger worries, he shrugged it off and headed to the park. The grass hadn’t been mowed. Another fence had fallen down. And once again the bases were gone.