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The last place in all of Serenity—in all of the universe, for that matter—that Annie wanted to be was the local ball field by the high school. And yet, here she was, walking along the perimeter of the parking lot, far enough from the field itself not to be spotted by her dad or Cal, but close enough to maybe catch a glimpse of Ty’s little boy.

Though she’d seen plenty of images in the tabloids, Annie had never seen Trevor in person. She hadn’t wanted to, because then he’d be real, a flesh-and-blood preschooler, whose mere existence had torn her life apart. Tonight, though, after leaving Sullivan’s, she hadn’t been able to shake off the sudden yearning to see the little boy who might have been hers. Yes, she might have been the mother of a three-year-old, if things had turned out the way she’d always thought they would.

At first, as she skirted the field, Annie thought the trip was probably wasted. The area was crowded with kids of all ages. The sidelines and bleachers were jammed with families. She could smell hot dogs and popcorn, even from where she was standing on the opposite side of the street. The noise of all that cheering was deafening, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Cal’s shout to his pitcher or her dad’s startled cry when a dark-haired boy darted away from him and headed straight for the street, apparently chasing one of the ducks from a nearby park. The loudly quacking duck was trying to get away from all the frenzy and back to his more peaceful habitat.

Seeing the child toddling straight toward danger, Annie’s protective instincts kicked in without a single thought, she made a mad dash into the street and gathered the boy up before he could get a half foot away from the curb.

“Duck!” he cried mournfully, pointing to his rapidly fleeing target.

“The duck’s going to find his family,” Annie assured him. “Ducks need their families just like we do.”

When she finally looked into the boy’s startled gaze, she saw Ty’s eyes. No question about it. Stunned, she set the child on his feet and hunkered down in front of him, suddenly shaking over how quickly the incident might have turned into a tragedy.

Before she could utter a word, her father was beside them, kneeling down. “You okay?” he murmured, the comment meant for her, since it was obvious that the boy was just fine beyond being startled to have been plucked up out of the street by a stranger.

Tears stung Annie’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked her dad, her voice barely more than a choked whisper. “This is Trevor.”

The boy’s eyes brightened. “Me Trevor,” he confirmed. “Who are you?”

Completely captivated now and unable to look away, she said, “I’m Annie.”

“Annie’s my daughter,” Ronnie told him.

“And I know your daddy,” Annie said before she could stop herself.

“Daddy plays ball,” Trevor said with obvious pride. “But not now. He hurt.”

“That’s what I hear,” Annie said. Suddenly unable to bear it another minute, she stood up. “I have to go. Bye, Trevor. See you, Dad.”

“Annie!”

The worry in her father’s voice stopped her. She forced a smile. “It’s okay. Really.” She turned her gaze to Trevor. “No more running into the street, okay? You need to be very, very careful.”

“Trust me, he won’t get away from me again,” Ronnie said grimly. “I’d forgotten how fast these little guys could move. I blinked and he was gone. I thought he was fascinated by the ducks.”

“He was, so much so that he followed one when it tried to leave.”

Her dad flinched. “Maybe we should stick to playing on the swings, buddy. What do you think?”

“Swings go high, ‘kay?” Trevor said excitedly.

Ronnie looked a little sickened by that, but he nodded gamely. “We’ll see,” he promised.

“Dad, are you sure you have this under control?” Annie asked worriedly. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone Trevor’s age left in his care.

“Not a problem,” Ronnie insisted. “Katie and Kyle are around somewhere. They’re supposed to be babysitting their younger siblings and Trevor, but they have their hands full just with Jessica Lynn and Cole, so I said I’d watch Trevor. You go on. Enjoy your evening.”

“Yeah, sure,” Annie said, walking away.

She just wished she had the slightest idea how she was supposed to enjoy anything after that bittersweet moment with Ty’s son. Worse, how was she supposed to get that little boy out of her head now that she’d held him in her arms?

The mood at margarita night was way too somber. It was getting on Helen’s nerves. Everybody was walking on eggshells, trying too hard not to say the wrong thing. And no matter how innocuous the topic, Dana Sue and Maddie couldn’t see eye to eye. They’d argued over everything from the weather to the amount of tequila that was supposed to be in the margaritas. Jeanette and Helen had been left to referee.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Helen announced after an hour. “Let’s just get it all out there. What are we going to do about Ty and Annie?”

“Nothing,” Maddie and Dana Sue said simultaneously.

“Well, that’s progress,” Helen said. “It’s the first thing the two of you have agreed on all night.”

“We’re not going to meddle in their lives,” Dana Sue added for good measure. “That’s final.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jeanette asked hesitantly. Although both Dana Sue and Maddie scowled at her, she refused to back down. “I mean, I know I haven’t been around all that long, but those two were so much in love. It’s just a shame to have them both back home and not even speaking to each other.”

“I agree,” Helen said. “Worse is what it’s doing to the two of you. I haven’t been to a party that felt this awkward since the first boy-girl party we had back in junior high.”

Maddie flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

“Me, too,” Dana Sue promised. “I just get so darn mad when I think about what happened.”

“Do you think I don’t?” Maddie erupted with feeling. “I wanted to shake my son when I heard what he’d done, but what am I supposed to do? He’s my son, and that little boy is my grandson. I love them.”

“And you should have been able to celebrate having your first grandchild with us, your best friends,” Helen said. “Instead, we’ve all acted as if Trevor doesn’t exist. That’s just wrong. None of this is his fault, and it’s certainly not yours.”

“I agree,” Dana Sue said. “If I leave Annie out of it for just a minute, I can actually be happy for you, Maddie. Having a grandchild must be so amazing.”

Maddie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Do you think I don’t understand how you must feel? We were going to have grandkids together, you and me, because my son and your daughter were supposed to give them to us. I know we always vowed not to pressure them like that. Heck, we tried our best not to talk about it ourselves. We didn’t want them to know how much we were counting on it, but we were.”

“And now it will never happen,” Dana Sue said, her expression bleak.

“That is just so sad,” Jeanette commiserated. “I still think—”

“No,” Maddie said. “We cannot meddle. It will get even more complicated if we do.”

Dana Sue stood up, grabbed the pitcher of margaritas and poured herself another one. “Anyone else?”

Maddie held out her glass. “What the hell,” she murmured.

Dana Sue poured, then grinned. “Helen?”

“Make mine a double. I have to go see my mama tomorrow.”

“Oh, boy,” Dana Sue murmured, exchanging a look with Maddie. “You didn’t say anything about that earlier.”

“Because I didn’t even want to think about it,” Helen said, explaining about the call from the hospital.

“Maybe we should go down there with you,” Maddie said. “At least one of us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Helen said. “I can handle this. I’ll make a few calls, look at a couple of rehab places and get her settled. No big deal.”

“I don’t question your ability to cope with the details,” Maddie said gently. “It’s the compassion that concerns me. You tend to be the tiniest bit impatient, and Flo’s probably in pain and not at her best, either.”

Helen scowled at the too-accurate assessment. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Her frown deepened when she noted her still-empty glass. Dana Sue still hadn’t poured her another drink. “I’ll take that margarita now.”

“Don’t you need to go down there tomorrow with a clear head?” Dana Sue asked.

“I’d rather not,” Helen said, lifting the glass in a gesture that commanded Dana Sue to fill it to the brim.

“Flo’s going to be just fine,” Maddie said. “A broken hip will heal in no time.”

“At her age?” Helen asked skeptically. “What if it doesn’t? What if she can’t be on her own anymore?”

“Then you’ll deal with it,” Dana Sue said. “You can handle anything. We’re all in awe of you.”

“That was the old me,” Helen bemoaned. “The current me is still trying to figure out how to get a few more hours into the day. Way too many of them vanish without my having a clue where they went.”

Jeanette had been listening to the exchange in silence. She’d only recently resolved some of her own family issues. “What about bringing your mom back here to recuperate?” she asked eventually.

Helen stared at her in horror. “Bite your tongue.”

“Well, it just seems like it would be easier to keep an eye on things if she were right here in Serenity,” Jeanette persisted.

“Not going to happen,” Helen said sharply. “Her life’s in Florida now, and that’s where it’s going to stay.”

Maddie gave Jeanette a commiserating look. “Don’t mind Helen. She and her mother have issues. They get along best when there’s some distance between them.”

Unfortunately, since her reconciliation with her own parents, Jeanette wanted all of the world to follow suit. “If there are issues, what better way to fix them than to be right here together while she’s getting back on her feet?”

“Fortunately, my mother will side with me on this,” Helen said with confidence. “She was glad to see the last of Serenity.”

“But it’s her home,” Jeanette stressed.

“It’s the place where she nearly worked herself into an early grave,” Helen contradicted. “Now she’s living in style with every comfort she could possibly want.”

“You and her granddaughter aren’t there,” Jeanette replied, then frowned when Maddie scowled at her. “I’m just saying…” She sat back, looking chagrined. “Oh, never mind. It’s none of my business.”

She looked so upset by the possibility that she’d overstepped that Helen patted her hand. “It’s okay. You are not the first to think the Decatur women should be reunited in blissful harmony. I get the same thing from Erik all the time.” She grinned. “I also tell him to butt out.”

Jeanette laughed. “Well, in that case, I don’t feel so bad.”

“Have another margarita,” Dana Sue encouraged. “Then you won’t feel anything. I haven’t felt my feet for the past ten minutes.”

Maddie blinked. “Me, neither, come to think of it.”

Helen stared at the two of them. “Oh, sweet heaven, am I going to have your husbands over here yelling at me for sending you home damaged? I’d better make coffee.”

“I think it’ll take more than coffee to fix this,” Dana Sue said direly. “I’m going to take a little nap. Somebody call Ronnie and tell him we’re having a sleepover.”

“I can’t sleep over,” Maddie grumbled. “I have children.”

“Who probably shouldn’t see you in your current state,” Helen said. “I’ll call Cal, too. Jeanette, are you staying? Should I call Tom?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to leave you three here to have all the fun,” Jeanette said. “But I’ll call Tom myself.” She fumbled in her purse, but apparently couldn’t find her phone. “I know I have a cell phone.” She stared at her purse accusingly. “Where’s it hiding?”

“Never mind. I’ll call,” Helen said.

It had been a long time since she’d thrown a party that no one left before dawn. After a shaky start, this was starting to show signs of being one of the best margarita nights ever.

Ty’s workout at The Corner Spa had only lasted an hour tonight. Every move he’d made, every weight he’d tried to lift, had sent pain radiating down his arm and across his shoulder and back. He knew he’d been pressing it by starting rehab so soon after the surgery and trying to do more than the doctors had recommended. It was just so blasted frustrating to be barely weeks into what had promised to be the best season of his career, only to be sidelined by an injury.

Eventually Elliott had called a halt. “You need to ease up on yourself before you do more harm than good.”

“One more set,” Ty pleaded.

Elliott blocked his way when he would have picked up the weights. “Not tonight. Listen to me, Ty. I know you’re anxious to get back on the field, but if you try to do too much, you’ll have a setback. You’ve done an okay job of trying to hide the fact that you’re in pain, but it’s not working, pal.”

Ty knew he was right, but it grated. “Okay, whatever.”

“Have you given any more thought to asking Annie for help?” Elliott asked.

“We both know I can’t do that. She wouldn’t even consider it, anyway.”

“She might,” Elliott said.

Ty regarded him curiously. “Have you discussed it with her?”

“As a matter of fact, I mentioned it to her earlier today.”

For a moment Ty felt something akin to hope. “Did she say she’d do it?”

“Actually she said no,” Elliott admitted. “But I think that’s because I was the one asking. If you talked to her…” He met Ty’s gaze. “The two of you were close once. I honestly don’t think she could turn you down. It goes against everything she believes about helping people recover from injuries. She thinks of it as a mission. She’d never turn her back on you, not if you explain what the stakes are for you.”

Ty shook his head. “I won’t put her in that position,” he said. “It’s not fair.” No matter how quickly he wanted to get back on the ball field, he wouldn’t use the kind of manipulation Elliott was suggesting to speed up the process of his recovery. Besides, realistically, what could Annie do that Elliott wasn’t already doing? If there came a time when he needed more skilled help with his rehab, he could always bring in another trainer. The team would send someone the instant he asked.

“Let’s just keep things the way they are,” he told Elliott. “Unless I’m cutting into too much of your free time.”

“Absolutely not. I’m happy to help. After everything your mother did to help Karen when her life was a mess, helping you out is the least I can do. Karen and I found each other back then.”

“Same time tomorrow, then?” Ty asked, relieved.

“You got it. Meantime, cut yourself some slack. Relax, okay? Take the rest of the night off.”

Unfortunately Ty was too edgy to relax. And since his workout had been curtailed and Trevor was with Ty’s siblings and Cal at the ball field or the town’s favorite pizza place, he decided to burn off some of his energy and his frustrations by running. At least he could stay in shape that way.

He debated heading for the track at the high school, but he didn’t want to take a chance that Little League practice might still be going on. The kids treated him like some kind of hero. That made him feel like such a fraud. He might be an excellent ballplayer, but he’d failed at the one thing that really mattered…being a good man.

Instead, to avoid an uncomfortable encounter with some pint-size fans, Ty drove over to the path around the lake. In early spring the park was filled with huge bushes of pink, purple and white azaleas in full bloom. The riot of color and balmy evenings drew quite a few people, but it was late enough now that most people had finished their evening strolls, and he could be alone with his thoughts.

He was on his second lap, panting hard and testing his limits, when he saw her. Annie was sitting by herself on a bench, mostly in the shadows. If a breeze hadn’t stirred the leaves, allowing a shaft of moonlight to fall on her, he might not have noticed her.

The fact that she was out here alone in a secluded area infuriated him. She ought to know better. Serenity might be comparatively safe, but a woman out unaccompanied after dark was still putting herself into the position of becoming a target for some predator.

He crossed the grass to stand over her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

At the sound of his voice, Annie blinked hard and stared up at him with unmistakable dismay. “Go away, Ty.”

He stood his ground. “Not a chance. Are you crazy, sitting out here all alone at this hour, practically asking some nutcase to assault you?”

“It’s not the middle of the night, for heaven’s sake. It’s barely nine o’clock. And this is Serenity. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Really? Did you even hear me coming? Did you notice you weren’t alone? Geez, Annie, I could have attacked you and you wouldn’t have seen it coming.”

She scowled at him. “You don’t get to worry about me.”

“Well, I do, especially when I see you doing something stupid.”

That brought her immediately to her feet, her cheeks flushed with anger. He knew her well enough to guess she was mostly furious because she knew he was right. She seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words to tell him off, again because she knew she was the one in the wrong.

Out of the shadows now, he could see the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks. Before he could ask about that, she pulled herself together and—right or wrong—got right up in his face.

“Stupid! You’re calling me stupid?” she said, poking a finger into his stomach. “Boy, that takes some gall. Then, again, you know all about stupid, don’t you, Tyler Townsend? You mastered it several years ago. Too bad there wasn’t anyone around to save you from yourself.”

In some ways, her fury was better than the anguish in her eyes when he’d told her about the baby. He’d known back then not only how he’d disappointed her, but how much he’d hurt her. He’d rather have her fighting mad any day. At least she was displaying some real spirit, instead of staring at him with the defeated expression he’d seen on her face when he’d first approached.

“I wish there had been,” he said softly. “I wish someone had sat me down and told me I was behaving like a jerk.”

“Well, maybe it’s three years too late, but I’m happy to help out,” she said. “You’re a jerk, Ty. An idiot. A pig.”

“There’s nothing you can call me that I haven’t called myself.”

“Good, then it’s unanimous.”

“I don’t suppose it would help if I said again that I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t help then and it doesn’t help now,” she retorted without hesitation.

Ignoring her temper and her dismissal of his apology, he drank in the sight of her. To his eyes she looked too thin, but not in that awful way she had when she’d been anorexic. Her hair, which had been dull and brittle back then, shone now. Her eyes sparkled, though that was probably because she was angry with him. Her mouth…well, it was probably better if he didn’t focus on her mouth. He might make the mistake of trying to kiss her.

“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

She stared at him for a heartbeat, and for one tiny instant he felt hopeful. There was no mistaking the emotion in her eyes, the hint of longing, but then her expression hardened and her voice turned cold.

“I met your son tonight,” she said. “He looks just like you.”

Ty had no idea how to respond. Obviously encountering Trevor had upset her. How could it not? Maybe that explained the tears. Guilt washed over him for about the millionth time.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. It was all he could think of to say.

“For what? You weren’t there. It’s a small town. I was bound to see him sooner or later. I have to tell you, I’d hoped it would be later. Maybe in some other lifetime.”

Ty raked his fingers through his hair. “I knew this was a mistake. I never should have come back here. It wasn’t fair to you. I guess I’d just hoped…” He cut himself off when he caught the faint flicker of guilt in her eyes. “Don’t you dare feel guilty,” he said. “I’m the one who messed things up. It’s my fault you’re bumping into my son. Hell, it’s my fault that I have a son.”

She met his gaze. “It shouldn’t matter,” she said wistfully. “I don’t want it to matter.”

He ached to take her in his arms, to tell her what she wanted to hear, that he would go, but he couldn’t do any of that. She wouldn’t thank him for the touch, the sympathy or the offer.

Instead, he asked, “What can I do to make things easier for you?”

“Nothing,” she said immediately. “I need to go.” She tried to brush past him.

“Annie, no,” he protested, reaching for her hand. “Can’t you stay here a few minutes, maybe talk things out? We used to be able to deal with anything that came our way. Nobody understood me better than you. The reverse was true, too. I always got you in ways nobody else did.”

“Not anymore,” she said fiercely, jerking her hand free. She gave him a look that would have wilted a man with a lesser ego. “Besides, haven’t you heard?” she said wryly. “The lake’s no place for a woman at this time of night. The only people around are nutcases.”

With that, she turned and walked away, spine rigid, shoulders stiff.

This time he didn’t try to stop her. He waited until she was out of sight, then released a pent-up sigh. That certainly hadn’t gone the way he’d wished his first encounter with her would go.

Then, again, he thought optimistically, she hadn’t hit him with anything or walked off without saying a word, so maybe there was hope for the future, after all.