“I was hungry.”

She pulled out a bag of trail mix from her purse and gave it to him.

“For a burger,” he clarified.

“You and me both.” She patted him on the shoulder. “After this though, I promise.” She walked Killer onto the field for the handover, and her cousin met her halfway.

“Good game,” she said.

“Yeah? Did you like that fly hit I got in the third?”

“Amazing.”

“Uh-huh. I didn’t get a fly hit. I got a home run.”

Shit.

Simon laughed and turned to head to his dad.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m still waiting for the lease of whoever you put in 2A.”

“It’s at the top of my to-do list.”

“Your dad mentioned that he caught a glimpse of her the other day going up the stairs. Said she was pretty and that she held her left arm like he holds his right one. What does that mean? She have a stroke?”

Simon tugged playfully on a strand of her hair. “Good luck, Ali.” And he headed to the bleachers.

“Alison,” she muttered after him. Taking a deep breath, she moved toward Ryan and the other guys. They stopped talking and began to scatter.

Be nice, Dale had suggested. Sure. Sounded easy enough. She nodded to the tall, skinny guy. “Hey, Bill. How’s it going? Did you ever get that boat you were always talking about?”

He blinked. “Actually, I was losing the boat.”

Well, damn.

Bill shook his head. “As always, Alison, great to see you. Gotta go.”

She turned to Ryan and discovered everyone else had left. Ryan was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. She tossed up her hands. “Well, how was I supposed to know he was losing the boat? He just kept talking about the boat, on and on about the damn boat!”

Ryan’s good humor faded away. “Because it was his dad’s, but with the divorce, he couldn’t afford the storage or dock fees. He had to sell.”

Alison looked into his eyes and saw . . . pain. Pain she’d put there. In the breakup, he’d told her that she’d broken his heart. She’d thought that had just been words, but there was no denying he was hurting.

She’d done that.

Regret was a bitter pill. Not only had she lost him, she’d hurt him, all because she was a coward who hid behind her crappy upbringing, using it to convince herself she wasn’t capable of showing love because she hadn’t been shown it. That was bullshit and she knew it. She was better than her past, dammit. Great, and now she was sweating.

Ryan was watching Alison, his searing blue eyes hidden behind dark lenses.

“Sorry about the Bill thing.” She swiped her brow. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Alison Pratt doesn’t do nervous.”

“You think I don’t get nervous?” she asked in disbelief.

“I think you don’t like to show it.”

“Well, duh.” She drew a deep breath. “And FYI, this is why people like me stick to fur babies.”

He gave her a small smile. “That’d be a shame. I always thought you’d make a great mom if that’s what you wanted.”

Ignoring the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest, Alison bent over Killer’s soft head and gave her a kiss. “Love you, baby. I’ll see you this weekend. Be good for Daddy.”

“Daddy” snorted.

“She’s not been good?” she asked.

“Sure. She only yakked up a stick in the middle of my bed at three A.M. last night. And then ate Michelle’s shoe this morning.”

Alison’s head whipped up so fast she got whiplash. “Michelle, your cute, single neighbor Michelle?”

“Yes.”

Alison’s stomach hit her toes. What was his way-too-cute, single neighbor Michelle doing at his place this morning—not wearing her cheap knockoff Manolos? “She . . . spent the night?”

Ryan was quiet for the length of a single heartbeat, but it was long enough for Alison’s heart to stop. She spun to walk away, but Ryan said her name.

She stopped. Didn’t turn back.

“You and I broke up,” he said quietly. “So not that it’s any of your business, but no, she didn’t spend the night. She was borrowing some milk.”

“Code for hitting on you. And you broke up with me, remember?”

“I do remember. You were unhappy.” His free hand settled on her arm. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Slowly he turned her to face him. “And you’ve given me no indication that anything has changed in that department or that you’d like to talk about it—” He broke off when Killer licked his face. With a low laugh, he kissed the top of the dog’s head.

And if Alison hadn’t already melted from his touch, she’d have melted at that.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked her.

Did she? The horrifying, embarrassing truth was, she didn’t know how to be happy. Nor did she know how to win him back. At least not without a complete personality change from introvert to extrovert, which she had no idea how to pull off. She stared at him, the words stuck in her throat.

After a beat, Ryan dropped his hand from her arm and stepped back, and she almost cried at the loss. “I thought . . .” she started, but had no idea how to finish.

“What? You thought what, Alison?”

She’d thought maybe she could continue to shut him out of her heart and still keep him. She’d thought . . . she’d thought he’d love her through this. Or beg her to stay. “I thought you loved me.” Not what she’d meant to say, and horrified, Alison covered her own mouth with her hand.

“My love for you had nothing to do with what happened,” he said.

She sucked in a breath at the past tense in that statement. A stab to her chest. The next and final stab came when he walked away, Killer eyeing her over his shoulder, her ridiculous little ears flopping in the wind, making Alison’s eyes sting.

SIMON WATCHED ALISON come off the field after talking to Ryan. He hadn’t been able to hear what she and Ryan had discussed, but he could tell by her defensive posture that it hadn’t been good. He and Ali were family, but he and Ryan were close too, always had been, which was how he knew Ryan was hurting more from the breakup than Alison pretended not to be.

He hurt for the both of them, but God himself couldn’t convince Alison to try something before she was ready—not even for the people who loved her. “You okay?” he asked as soon as she got within earshot.