He just nods, and she’s off without a backward glance. Fearless and confident in her father’s love. As she rushes off to the play structure, Ronan’s eyes don’t leave her until she’s climbing up the steps to the slide. All of a sudden, I feel him shift closer to me, his warm, spicy aroma floating over to tantalize my senses. And then I can’t help but suck in a gasp when his fingers brush against mine, one latching onto my pinkie. My pulse races at the unexpected contact. So small, yet, I feel it throughout my entire body.
“Thank you for playing with her like that. The move hasn’t been easy; she’s missing her friends and her old preschool teachers.” The quiet pain in his words makes my heart ache for the man who’s clearly desperate to do right by his daughter.
“She’ll be okay,” I say lamely. Even though I can’t know that for sure. I don’t remember what it’s like to be uprooted from everything you know, having been less than two years old when my mom abandoned me. I was lucky enough to be adopted quickly, and my mind has simply wiped most of those two years from my memory completely. All I remember is love and stability, courtesy of my adopted dad.
He never dated, there was never a parade of men in and out of the house. I knew about his sexuality as soon as I was old enough to understand. For a while, I fantasized about him and Uncle Mike being in love and me having two dads, but it didn’t take long to realize that while their preferences swung the same way, all that was between them was a deep-seated friendship. Deeper and stronger than love or blood.
I never got the chance to ask Dad why he didn’t date, I guess I was too scared to hear the answer. The last thing I ever would have wanted would be for him to stay alone for my sake. But that’s the kind of dad he was, always putting me first.
It’s the kind of dad Ronan is, too. And the thought of him being alone until Peyton’s an adult makes my heart twist even further in my chest. He’s a man with a lot to give, and he deserves to be happy. Even if I don’t think I can be the one to give him that.
His finger gently slides up and down mine in a soft caress that draws me back to this moment, this slight physical connection with a man who means far more to me than he should.
“It’s really fucking hard to keep my distance from you,” he whispers, still looking straight ahead at his daughter, who’s now squealing as she goes down the spiral slide. “You’ve got your walls up, and I really want to know why. But if you can’t tell me, then can you at least tell me I’m not the only one suffering? Tell me it’s hard for you on the other side of that wall, too.” The desperation in his voice is paired with so much wistfulness, so much longing. It takes everything I have not to turn and throw myself into his arms and go back to the blissful few hours when the only thing that mattered was each other.
But I manage to take the smallest of steps to the side, losing the link between our pinkie fingers.
“I can’t do that, Ronan.” I force the words out past my lips, even though they feel like a lie, despite being the cold, hard truth. “Those walls you talk about are there for a reason, and I can’t just take them down.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?” he asks, and there’s no accusation in his tone, no anger, just a sad acceptance that somehow hurts even more.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. To me, it does.”
I turn to face him. “It wouldn’t change anything. I still can’t be with you.” Taking a step back and then another, I put space between us. Even though I really wish I didn’t have to. “Say goodbye to Peyton for me. And good luck at the game tonight.”
Then I turn and run.
Chapter twenty-two
Ronan
Games that are easy wins are nice and all, a good boost to the ego and team morale, but there’s something to be said for a hard-fought battle. One that comes down to the last inning, bases loaded, score tied, and it all rests on one more hit.
Those are the games I love. Those are the wins that fill me with more pride and determination to come back stronger every time.
Today was one of those games. It’s fucking cold and damp out here, even with the roof protecting us from the worst of the rain that is so typical for a West Coast spring. Kai pitched the first half, and for a while, it looked like we’d maintain a lead. Then the other team came from behind with two out of the park home runs and some solid double and triple plays. The second half, we were neck and neck, each team coming out to the plate strong and every player in the field on top of the ball.
But the Tridents came out on top, eking out a one-point win.
Coach calls me over as we head off the field. “You’re on media duty, Sin.” He points to the side, where a reporter and cameraman from a local news station are already busy talking to Rhett. I look around for Willow but don’t see her at first. Then some guy in a suit steps to the side and there she is, talking with one of our cameramen — Rudy, I think is his name. She’s gesturing to the dugout, and he takes off at a jog. I should be focused on getting to my own interview, but I can’t drag my eyes away from her. In grey wide-legged pants and a Tridents teal blouse with her hair in a high ponytail, she’s effortlessly beautiful. Put together, in charge, and all professional.
Her head turns, and our gazes meet. But there’s nothing. Not even a flash of recognition or any emotion whatsoever. Just the same as it was at the game on Saturday after we saw each other at the park.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. There are professional boundaries, and then there’s cold shoulders. And right now? I feel chilly. And not just from the weather.
“Careful with Maxine, she’s a shark. Loves to get deep into your personal life, even if she only has a few seconds for a sound bite.” Rhett leans in close as he walks past me, coming from the very reporter I’m on my way over to.
“Thanks, man,” I mutter as I make my way over to them. I watch the woman with the microphone in hand plaster on a news-worthy smile as I approach and the camera light turns on.
“Ronan Sinclair, thanks for coming over. Maxine Parker, City News. You’re new to Vancouver, new to the Tridents. How do you think things are going so far for you?”
Okay, that’s an easier question than I was expecting, given Darling’s warning.
“Just great, Maxine, thanks. Vancouver has been very welcoming, and the team is strong. I’m very happy to be here.”
She gives a brusque nod before tilting the microphone back toward herself. “And your family? Have they been happy with the relocation?”
