Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
Johnny slipped on his best fan-friendly smile.
“We’re, like, your number one fans.” The boy was practically bursting at the seams. “Right, Mom?”
The boy’s mother stepped forward, taking Johnny’s breath away.
He’d had several reasons to come to San Francisco. Eleven million obvious ones, and several others that he’d done his best to articulate to the fans. There was only one reason he should have stayed away.
“Alice.” Just saying her name sent a line drive straight to his heart. Even fourteen years later.
“Congratulations on your new contract. I know you’re going to have a great year.” She sounded like any other fan, wishing him well. She just marched right up to his table to ask for an autograph. A freaking autograph? Like he meant nothing to her.
A slight breeze blew her hair around her face. She tried to smile as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Blond, straight, silky—and if he remembered correctly—oh-so-soft. She wore modestly cut jeans and a soft blue sweater that on anyone else would have looked plain and proper. He didn’t need to glance at her left hand to know she was off limits. Yet, she still moved him like no other woman ever could. Made him long for what he’d had. What he’d lost. What he’d tried for years to forget.
“Wait.” The boy gaped at her. “You guys know each other? For real?”
“Yes. Johnny was…” She held Johnny’s gaze just long enough for him to catch a flicker of regret. She turned to her son, who was about an inch or two taller than her. “He was your dad’s college roommate.”
“You knew my dad?” The boy seemed more impressed by that than the fact that people waited in line for his autograph.
“Yes. I knew him.” Johnny swallowed the lump in his throat. “Before he married your mom.”
“Cool.” The kid smiled and nodded his head, like it was no big deal. “I mean, I know you played for the Wolf Pack when they went to Nevada, but I had no idea you guys were, like, friends.”
Sure. Friends.
“Zach.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, ready to steer him away. “I’m sure Mr. Scottsdale is a busy man. Let’s leave him alone.”
They’d once been as close as two people could be. But now he was Mr. Scottsdale.
The boy shrugged, dismissing her and looking up to Johnny with admiration. “It’s totally awesome to meet you.”
Johnny nodded, giving his most sincere smile, even though seeing Alice, and her kid, hit him like a 97-mile-an-hour fastball.
They started to walk away.
“Give my best to Mel.” As if he hadn’t already done that.
Alice turned around.
“Mel died. Eight years ago.” A pained expression flashed across her face.
“I’m sorry. For your loss.” Johnny said the words. He wanted more than anything to mean them, but he’d carried that resentment around for so long, it had become as much a part of him as his right arm.
“Thank you.” Alice gave him a sad little smile. It was forced. Polite. The kind of smile she’d give a stranger. “It was good seeing you. Really good.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He could say the same, but he’d be lying. Seeing her again only reminded him of everything he’d sacrificed.