Better Than Perfect. Kristina Mathews

in shape for spring training.”

      “Is that so?” Johnny managed to avoid the whole groupie scene. His entire career had been about control, both on and off the field. The Monk kept his cool. The Monk never got rattled. And The Monk maintained a spotless reputation. He had to, considering where he’d come from.

      “There he is. Come on, Mom.” A kid, about twelve or thirteen, rushed up to the booth, practically dragging his mother by the arm.

      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.

      * * * *

      The minute she’d seen Johnny on the stage, Alice’s heart had swelled big enough to fill the stadium. There he’d been, larger than life. Damn. The man looked good. Better than on TV. Better than she remembered. He’d gained some muscle. A lot of muscle. Even without the jersey, there’d be no doubt he was an athlete. He moved with the kind of confidence and grace that came with being totally in tune with his body. Like he’d once been totally in tune with hers. She ached at the memory, but shook it off, uncomfortable having such thoughts with her son sitting next to her. Like Johnny had clearly been uncomfortable onstage, addressing the media and the crowds. He never did like to talk about his game. He’d simply let his talent speak for itself.

      Just as she’d predicted, women lined up at his booth. They all wanted his autograph. Some of them wanted a little more. She hadn’t been able to handle it back then. And now? What he did was his business. Especially since she’d been the one to walk out on him.

      “Mom. Are you okay?” Zach was protective of her. And a little too observant.

      “I’m fine, Zach.” She shook her head to clear the fog of memories that rolled over her. With only the briefest look into his eyes, she couldn’t forget the three years they’d spent together, nearly inseparable. Studying. Hanging out. Making love. “I’m surprised to see him, that’s all.”

      “But you knew he’d be here.” Zach had that tone, the unspoken duh. They’d been coming to Fan Fest every year since Mel’s death. She’d known Johnny would be here. She just wasn’t prepared for the impact of seeing him again. She’d thought she’d put those feelings behind her. Packed them away with her college sweatshirts and student ID card. “You were so excited when you heard it on the radio. Your favorite player finally becoming a Goliath. Why didn’t you tell me you guys were, like, friends?”

      “I didn’t want you to think it’s a big deal.” She tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but he squirmed to avoid the contact. That was new. Not unexpected, given his age, but she missed her little boy. The first time they’d come to Fan Fest, he’d held her hand. Until they’d gotten to the miniature version of the ballpark. He’d joined the t-ball game like he was born to play.

      “It is a big deal.” Zach looked at her like she was hopelessly out of touch. Something he did a lot these days. “Mom, you actually know Johnny Scottsdale.”

      There it was. The star-struck admiration bordering on worship.

      “I knew him, Zach.” Alice tried to keep her tone neutral. She couldn’t betray her emotions. A wave of regret washed over her. The question of what might have been. “But that was a long time ago.”

      “Wouldn’t it be cool if he came to the foundation’s minicamp?” Zach couldn’t know why it would be such a bad idea.

      She’d hoped to avoid him. Avoid digging up the past. And the question that had plagued her more and more as Zach grew. “I already have a pitcher lined up. Nathan Cooper. He’s done it for years.”

      Alice had worked for the Mel Harrison Jr. Foundation since its inception, a little more than a year after her husband’s death. The initial donations were privately funded, set up to provide grants to community schools and youth organizations. As the foundation had grown, they were able to provide services for greater numbers of children, but the more successful they’d become, the less contact she had with the kids.

      Until a few years ago, when the team had approached her about setting up a minicamp for youth players. It evolved from a Saturday demonstration and meet-and-greet to a weeklong afterschool program where the ballplayers worked directly with the kids, helping them learn fundamentals of the game while boosting their confidence with the attention and mentorship of the pro athletes.

      “Cooper’s alright.” Zach sounded disappointed, bordering on whiny. “But he’s not Johnny Scottsdale.”

      “Zach, we made a commitment to Nathan Cooper.”

      “And