The Florida sun shone down in the late afternoon the next day. The team plane had landed a little after two that afternoon, and a late batting practice had been called for a few hours before the players were allowed to rest.

Pacey glared at the pitching coach as he prepared to take a swing. The ball was out of the zone, and he cursed under his breath as he let it go. “Come on! Pitch me something to hit!” he called angrily.

His teammates, those close enough to watch, exchanged curious looks. It was rare to see Pacey raise his voice to anyone. They trained curious eyes on him as he swung viciously at a ball way out of the strike zone. Will watched from behind the netting, his lips set into a firm frown. If Pacey didn’t control his swing, he was going to pull a muscle...or take the pitcher’s head off.

They watched as Pacey finally connected with the ball, sending it way past the 409 mark. He didn’t even blink as he pulled the bat back to swing again.

Joey’s heart lurched and she squelched the uneasy feeling in her stomach when her eyes unwittingly traveled to Pacey’s familiar form. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that night in her hotel room when he said all those mean and spiteful things. She wanted to believe that he was lying and that he didn’t mean it, not after the way he had held her, kissed her, made love to her. She hated to think that his heart was damaged so badly he couldn’t believe it when someone truly loved him. Anger radiated off him in waves and more than anything, she wanted to wrap her arms around him until all that hurt and tension left his body.

“Witter, hit the showers!” Will finally demanded, thoroughly convinced that whatever was eating Pacey was going to cause him physical damage if he continued to swing the bat like that.

“What?” Pacey’s eyes flashed as he turned to Will. “I just got here!”

“Hit the showers, and don’t come back to the field until you’ve calmed down.” Will said calmly.

“I am calm!”

“Go,” Will’s tone left no room for argument. “I have no problem benching you for the first game, Witter.”

Pacey threw the bat down and started the long walk to the locker room.

Joey reluctantly moved away from the fence after a few minutes, against her better judgment, and went after him. She didn’t know when she’d be able to get him alone again especially since he probably didn’t even want to talk to her. She didn’t want to corner him either but she wasn’t left with much choice. She pushed back her apprehension as she pushed open the door to the locker room.

Pacey quickly stripped down, throwing his sweat stained clothes into his locker, not bothering to close it. How dare Krudski threaten him? He’d been doing just fine at the plate. He grabbed one of the carefully folded towels and turned to go to the showers. He froze, a dart of pain spearing through him when his eyes landed on Joey, she looked so out of place, so beautiful, in the intensely masculine setting of the locker room.

Joey swallowed and tried not to stare, but it was almost impossible to tear her eyes away from all that smooth muscle. The broad chest that led to a flat, well-muscled stomach, tapered hips and-she hurriedly turned around, her body beginning a slow burn. “I—uh, sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” His voice didn’t sound like his own as he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist.

She bit her lip nervously. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Haven’t you said enough?”

She sighed resignedly folding her arms across her chest protectively. She ignored his words. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me printing that stuff. I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you’d investigate my private life behind my back.” He held himself rigid, trying to hold onto the anger; the hurt was too dangerous an emotion to embrace.

Her shoulders stiffened slightly. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my job.”

“Why investigate if you had no intention of printing.” He shook his head, “That article means *everything* to you! I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise. Go ahead and print it Joey. Print everything! At least one of us should gain a little prestige.”

“No.” She couldn’t muster the energy to be angry. “I don’t need sordid details to help my writing.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Joey.” He swallowed, “I don’t believe you.”

Her eyes stung and she licked her dry lips. “Fine."

His stormy blue eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something, “I--”

“I—I love you. I really do.” She inhaled sharply as she tried to stay in control, her eyes watered unbearably. “Not that I expect it to change anything or for you to say it back.” Joey continued trying to hold onto the delicate thread of her emotions “I—I just think you needed to hear it, not for me but for yourself.” She had to get out of there before she broke down in tears. “I—I’m sorry.” She fled from the room.