My mother and I didn’t talk everyday. She had too many kids for that. She was also too busy and so was I. But we traded messages almost everyday and had at least one good phone call every week.

It had been a little over a week since our last one and I was feeling like a bad son. And not just because it had taken me longer than usual to call her back.

Oh no. I felt like crap because she knew I had fallen for the mystery girl at the unicorn party and I still hadn’t filled her in on the details. The fact the Jack and Belle had both met her was probably driving her nuts.

So after my pre-game ritual of a run and shower I settled into bed for my nap and called my mom.

“Hey baby boy. You ready for tonight?”

I didn’t know how she managed to keep all our schedules straight. I could barely handle my own. “Tonight will be fun. The hard work begins next week. Speaking of which, I have your hotel squared away.” She never missed a playoff game. My brothers and sisters came and went as their schedules allowed, but Ma was always there.

“Thank you. I’m closing up the house on Wednesday and heading up as scheduled.”

“How’s the island?”

“Warm.”

One of the reasons she loved living on Mistletoe Key was that it never changed. It had that year-round tropical weather of the Keys, plus the island celebrated Christmas every month, so it was always happy, always warm, and, I think at the heart of it all, never sad. Because while she never let it show, I knew she missed Dad.

“So I have one big thing to catch you up on,” I said slowly. Even though I’d thought and thought about what to say I was still having trouble.

“Let me see if I can help you out,” Ma giggled. “Her name is Zoe Burke, she’s a writer, and she’s very pretty. Is she the one from the party?”

“Yeah.” Of course Ma had gotten the details. “I love her.” It was the first time I said it out loud and even though my heart was pounding in my chest, it felt right.

Really right.

“I know. I knew the day of the party.”

“How? I barely knew her.” But I knew better than to question her Mom-senses.

“I heard it in your voice. And I have a hard time believing you barely knew her. Something happened to put that . . . I don’t know . . . awe? In your voice.”

“Maybe I just thought she was really pretty.”

She laughed. And laughed. “Yeah. Because you’re so much like your younger brothers.”

I didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. It was true Roberto and Nacho we’re both horndogs who panted after women while Jack and I were more . . . one-woman kind of guys. Hell, Jack met Berlin in college. That was it for him. Even now with her hating his guts, the guy was still in love with her. Had eyes only for her.

“I’ve been kind of in love with her for two years.”

She stopped laughing. “What took you so long? That’s not like you.”

I didn’t want to betray Zoe’s secrets but I also didn’t like keeping things from my mom. “Honestly? I thought she hated me but it turns out she and Belle have a lot more in common than writing.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed. Belle told her. Had to. “Your sister mentioned something like that. She also mentioned how well you two suited each other.”

I really liked the sound of that. “How so?”

“She said Zoe relaxes you. That you’re more fun and less of a pain in the ass when she’s around. She also said Zoe needs a rock to lean on and you’re the best rock she knows.”

“Belle said that?” My pain in the ass little sister could be real sweet sometimes.

“She did. Mom’s honor.” There was some rustling and I could hear Mom talking to someone, like she had her hand over the phone. Then, “I’m so sorry baby boy. I need to cut this short.”

“No problem. Do what you gotta do.”

“Have a good game tonight. I look forward to meeting Zoe next week.”

“Thanks, Ma. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

As predicted, our last regular season home game was a walk in the park. Well, except for one major fuckup in the seventh inning that nearly cost us the game and our first baseman.

Don Reynolds, our shortstop, was young and cocky, and, based on today’s performance, stupid.

I waited until we were in the locker room—the media didn’t need to see how I handled team politics.

“Keep ‘em out for five minutes,” I said as low as I could to Carson, nodding toward the door. I didn’t want the reporters accidentally walking in on this.

Then I marched right up to the little prick and backed him up to his locker. I didn’t say anything; I let my obvious mood do the talking. Don folded his arms over his chest like he didn’t give a shit what I thought.

Wrong attitude.

“Didn’t feel like playing today?” I finally asked.

He shrugged. “What was the point?”

I saw stars for a second as my blood pressure shot through the roof. “What’s. The. Point?” I repeated his words back as a question. “What’s the point of playing baseball? I don’t know,” I shrugged, looking over my shoulder at the small audience. “It’s what we’re all here for?”

“The game was a throwaway. It didn’t matter.”

I shoved him against the divider between his locker and Chris’s. “No game is ever a throwaway. With an attitude like that you’re not going be here very long, little man. Every game matters. Fuck, if you don’t love being on that field why are you here? There are a hundred AAA guys just waiting for a chance to stand on that field.”

Don didn’t like being told how to feel. “Back off, Bear. These guys may let you push them around but I won’t. We’re done here.”

Little prick tried to walk off. I shoved him back into the divider and kept my forearm across his chest while I got in nice and close for a chat. “We are not done here. That shit you threw at Brian? You almost got him hurt. Tell me, how are we supposed to win games with a hurt first baseman, huh? Every throw matters. Every game matters. Get your head out of your ass and act like you deserve to be here.”

He ducked out. “We’re going to win just like we have been all season.”

I remembered the days when I thought stupid things like that. Don still believed talent and luck would be enough to get him places. “Where’s your crystal ball, Don? You can see the future now?”

“The fuck, man? Back off.”

“What? You’re predicting games. Are you cashing checks you haven’t earned yet, too? Because the rest of us,” I waved at the guys standing close behind me, “we’ve been there. We’ve lived games going the wrong way, teams falling apart at the worst possible time. You have no idea what’s going to happen next week. We could be out and all those World Series wet dreams you’ve been having will have to wait another year. Or ten. Because a team like this is rare.”

He flung out his hands wide and shrugged. “Not all of us are ready for retirement, Papa Bear.”

The fucking chip on this kid’s shoulder was so big I was surprised he could stand. Luckily Wes jumped in before I mauled him. He shoved me back just as I was about to swing.

“Whoa. Okay. Let’s cool off a little.” He pushed me back a couple more steps. Then he turned back to Don. “Could you stop being an asshole for two seconds and listen? You played like shit today. Shitty players can be replaced. We would all like to win every game possible, but especially every game for the next month. Not only will it earn us pretty bonuses but we’ve all dreamt about being on a team this strong and taking it all the way to the end. Don’t ruin this for me because you’re in a bad mood.”

Wes’s method was clearly better than mine because Don shook his head. “I’m sorry.” Then he looked at everyone but me. “This playoff run means everything to me too. I apologize and I will show up ready to play from now on. Okay?” He finally looked at me.

I nodded even though I still wanted to knock his teeth in. This was my one and only shot. I knew that. I was getting older and teams like this didn’t stay together.

The crowd broke up and we all went about our post-game cool down rituals. The reporters came in and did their interviews, asked their questions. I went through it all on automatic until I got asked about Zoe.

“We noticed a woman sitting with Carrie Allen today. She has your name and number on the back of her shirt.” Bryson said. He’d been reporting for as long as I could remember.

I didn’t reply because he didn’t really ask a question. Plus I hadn’t expected the curiosity so soon. Zoe and I hadn’t discussed how we wanted to handle it yet.

“Is she someone special?” Bryson pressed.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“Care to share any details? Is it serious?”

I glanced at Wes who was listening in. He shrugged, essentially telling me it came with the territory.

Fuck.

“Yes, it’s serious. Which is why I won’t be sharing any details right now. She values her privacy and therefore, so do I.”

Bryson nodded, scratching something onto his notepad. Then he reached out his hand. “Well congrats and good luck with the lady and with the playoffs. I hope to be doing a lot of these interviews in the coming weeks.”

After we shook hands Seth and Chris wandered over. Wes was nearly dressed to leave and I wasn’t far behind him, but Seth and Chris were in towels. It was pretty obvious who had hot dates after the game and who didn’t.

“What are you two doing this week?” Our first playoff game was here in exactly one week.

“Chris is going home and doing the island bum thing,” Seth said, jerking his thumb over at the pitcher.

Chris shrugged. “Laying low is how I keep cool. There’s a good chance I’m pitching in the opener and I want to be as calm and collected as possible. Start us off right. Keep that game one winning streak alive.”

“What about you?” I threw a dirty towel at Seth. He batted it away.

“Sleeping. Eating. Fucking. The usual. Speaking of which, when are you moving out?”

Moving out? “Excuse me?”

“You and Zoe are practically one person so I figured you were one foot out the door.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me?” Seth wasn’t much of a planner so I was surprised he was thinking ahead.

Unless there was a reason he was thinking ahead.

“No,” he said all defensive, “it’s just the condo is more of a bachelor pad and you’re . . . not a bachelor anymore. Besides,” he shoved Chris, “this bastard needs somewhere closer to crash after games.”

“Can we get through the playoffs before we start talking about living arrangements?” I seriously could not add one more thing to my brain. Zoe and baseball were all I could handle.

“Yeah, yeah, just give me heads up?”

“Awww,” I hugged him, “are you worried I’m going to leave you in the middle of the night?”

He shoved me off. “We’re doing playoff beards, right?”

We all nodded.

“Good. Allen, I hope your Instagram fans are ready for our manly glory.”

There was a little bit more banter before Seth and Chris finally went to get dressed. That’s when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I tapped Wes. “Girls are outside.”

He grunted and followed me out, practically mauling Carrie the moment he saw her. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

Not as gorgeous as Zo. I stood there staring at her like she wasn’t real.

Dark hair down around her shoulders with a Mantas ball cap on her head, jeans, dark sneakers, and my shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Memorizing.”

She blushed, ducking her head away, so of course I had to pull her against me and kiss the crap out of her. “I need to have Eve order you more of these.” One for every day of the week. Or least a fresh one for every game. “So, how was it watching today?”

Her fingers massaged the back of my neck. “A lot more fun when you know you’re going home with the second baseman.”