“I know. Dammit, I know.” He started coughing, forcing him to pull out his inhaler. “She makes you happy. That pissed me off. I thought baseball was it for you, but it’s not. It’s her.” He looked pained. “I’m going to get used to that. I’m retiring, Pace.”

“Red—”

“Jesus, I’m doing it your way, and you’re still f**king arguing with me.” He clasped Pace on the shoulder, his eyes serious. “Thanks for not ratting me out. Thanks for letting me do this with my dignity intact.”

Pace stared at him, his throat tight. “I didn’t do that for you. Holly did.” And in return, Pace had been hard on her, too hard. She’d deserved better from him. Much better. He was going to do his damnedest to make it up to her.

Holly had assigned jobs to the volunteers and was putting up the decorations when the guys started to arrive. Once the event began, they’d each be manning a table, available for fun and laughs and whatever else the people who’d paid a thousand bucks a head to be there wanted. For now, they were volunteers like the rest of them.

When Henry came in, Holly smiled, but he didn’t. Joe arrived, and she showed him to his table. He quietly thanked her, but without his usual smile. Mason came through without stopping to say hi.

Holly took a deep breath and kept working.

Red stood in a corner with Gage, talking. When she needed help moving a huge table, she turned to them. “Can either of you help?”

“Of course,” Gage said, nudging her out of the way. “It’s our team.”

Right. Message received. They were helping the Heat, not her. Her chest ached, and her eyes burned, but she kept her chin up. “Thank you.”

Wade walked by, looking his usual California-surfer-boy gorgeous. He was the first to stop. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Wade.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked at the bruise on his jaw from the earlier fight at home plate. “How are you?”

He let out a breath. “Keeping my head above water. You?”

“Same.” She paused. “How is he? How’s Pace?”

“On or off record?”

Her heart squeezed. “Off.”

“Missing you,” he said bluntly, his green eyes meeting hers. “A lot.”

Oh God, this was tough. Holding it together was tough. “Good.”

He smiled at that and tugged a loose strand of her hair. “Hang in there.”

“I’m trying.” When he left, she looked around the ballroom at the people she’d come to know and love, all working their butts off for a charity event, all giving back to the community, all united together. She’d never really had that; she’d always been on the outside looking in.

But there for a little while, she’d gotten a taste of being on the inside, and . . . and she’d loved it.

Loved them.

Throat even tighter now, she forced herself to keep busy. Because busy, she couldn’t think too much. Or so went the plan, and she was in the middle of adding a gold streamer to the silver ones already strewn between two huge chandeliers when she felt someone steady her not-quite-steady ladder. She glanced down, and her heart lodged in her throat.

Pace.

He stood there looking fit and relaxed and so good that she nearly lost it. He was in faded Levi’s and a Cal State sweatshirt, laid-back and casual.

But she couldn’t pull off laid-back and casual, not with his eyes drinking her in. “Hey,” she managed, gripping the top of the ladder.

“Hey.”

He wasn’t favoring his shoulder, and there was no sign of any pain as he held the ladder for her, eyes locked on hers.

She’d imagined what it would be like to see him again, what she would say, how she would try to make him want her again.

But she couldn’t do it.

Not after the past hour, seeing how the guys saw her, what they thought of her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, beg him to want her. “You’re healing.”

“Getting there. Come down, Holly.”

Her throat burned so badly she could hardly breathe as she backed down. He kept his hands on the ladder so that she ended up climbing right into the crook of his arms. She slowly turned to face him. “No pain?”

“None. I’m day-to-day again.”

“Oh, Pace,” she breathed, knowing that meant he could play again as soon as he was ready. “I’m so glad.”

He shifted his hands from the ladder to her hips. “You look good,” he said very quietly. “You’ve gotten some sun.”

Her heart gave one hard kick against her ribs. One more kind word, and she really was going to lose it. “I’ve been playing ball.”

“With River and Chipper and the other guys?”

She nodded, and he arched a brow. “They didn’t tell you?” she asked.

“No.” But he didn’t look irritated. He looked . . . pleased.

“I’m getting good at hitting,” she informed him. “And I think pitching might be a calling.”

He smiled, and dammit, she nearly melted.

He noticed the streamer in her hand, the one she hadn’t been able to get up high enough. “Need some help?”

Her throat tightened even more, completely blocking off her air supply as her chest constricted hard. “Why are you being so nice?”

Clearly surprised at the question, he took a slow look around the room, his gaze touching on each of his teammates as if taking in the situation. There was understanding in his gaze when it landed on her again, which in itself nearly broke her. “Listen, they opened up and talked to you about the banned substances, and one of us pretty much admitted to f**king up. It’s easier to blame you than Ty. They’ll get over it.”