CHAPTER THREE
SLADE
SLADE MACINNES WAS late. He sped through the hospital's hallways, following the directions for his meeting with the Wishes Granted Foundation's recipient, an eight-year-old boy named Mason. He hated being late, especially for a meeting like this. But L.A.'s horrible traffic hadn't cooperated during his drive.
Musical laughter drifted from the room where he was supposed to have arrived five minutes earlier. The tone, the bubbly happiness, tugged at something inside him. He knew that voice. And really wanted to kick himself for being late.
He stopped at the doorway and took in the perfection that was Savanna Soto. Dark hair cascaded to her shoulders and she tossed a wayward lock off her forehead and laughed again, focused on something Slade couldn't see. Creamy olive skin, hazel eyes, arched brows and perfect pink lips—her face always drew him in. Her blue dress hugged curves and a narrow waist rivaling those captured on canvas and immortalized by Italian masters. Not for the first time, he wished he knew how to paint.
A little kid in a wheelchair, wearing a Riptide T-shirt, rolled into view. "Miss Savanna, do you think Slade can show me how he hits a curve ball?"
"Not indoors, sweetie." Smiling, she patted his bald head and then pushed his wheelchair closer to the large window that looked out over the courtyard. "He should be here soon."
Slade cleared his throat and stepped into the room. "Mason? I'm sorry I'm late."
The little boy's brown eyes widened. "Wow. You're really here."
Savanna crossed to him with graceful movements, her hand extended. "Mr. MacInnes, it's nice to see you again."
"None of this formal Mister stuff. Just Slade." He grinned over her shoulder at Mason and then captured her hand in his. Smooth, delicate, and soft. So soft. Her eyes warmed with her smile and he forgot to breathe. After a moment, he remembered to relax his grip, and the reason for his visit. He took a step toward Mason.
Savanna stepped back and gestured toward the boy. "Mason's been looking forward to this visit for a long time. And this is his mother Christine."
Slade shook hands with Christine, and then crouched beside the boy’s wheelchair and shook his hand. "Hey, buddy. It’s good to meet you."
"I used to play baseball. You know, before I got sick." The boy's grin spread wider in his sallow face. Dark and deep set eyes sparkled despite the painful effects of his treatment. "I liked playing first base best."
"That's the best position." Slade grinned and fist-bumped him. He settled into the visitor's chair by the bed, ready to stay for as long as the boy wanted him. "If your doctors give the okay, you can visit the ballpark and take batting practice with me."
"Really? That'll be great!" Mason leaned over the side of his chair. "Did you hear that, Mom and Miss Savanna?"
Savanna gently cleared her throat. "I'll mention it to your doctors and if we can arrange a visit, I'll make it happen."
Slade met her gaze and nodded. He didn't want to make a promise that Mason's health wouldn't let him keep. "So, what else do you like besides baseball?"
"Dinosaurs and race cars."
"Yeah? I just spent the morning driving a pretty fast car." He pulled up a picture of the cherry red Ferrari 458 GT on his phone and grinned over Mason's exclamation. "It can go two-hundred-two miles an hour." Pocketing the phone, he leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. "But don't tell my team manager Dusty. He doesn't like when I drive that fast."
"I won't tell anyone. I promise. Have you driven anything else? My favorite is a Lamborghini."
"I drove a Lamborghini Gallardo GT the last time I went to the speedway. That one can also go up to two-hundred miles an hour." He liked the speed, the thrill of zooming around the track. Liam had gone with him that time. He'd missed having his friend along for the morning's ride but the need to blow off some steam had outweighed wanting to wait until Liam's ankle had healed.
"Cool. I got some remote control Lamborghinis for my birthday. They don't go as fast as a real one though." His thin shoulders lifted in a shrug.
"That reminds me. I have something for you." Slade pulled a Riptide jersey from his bag and placed it in the boy's hands. "It has your name on the back."
"Wow." Mason traced his finger over the letters. "I'm never gonna take it off."
"And a new hat." He handed over the gray and blue cap. The stylized R riding the crest of a wave on the hat's crown matched the hats the team wore on the field.
Mason's grin tugged on Slade's heart. "Thanks. This is the best day ever."
"No problem." He engaged Mason in discussions on the team, superheroes, favorite ways to spend summer vacations, and how he hit a curve ball. Mason reminded him of himself as a kid, spending hours and hours alone with only baseball and his imagination to occupy his time. Unlike Mason, his solitude hadn't been due to sickness, but to living with someone who never wanted him, no matter how hard he tried.
Toward the end of his visit, Mason's father arrived. Slade again extended his invitation to Mason’s parents for the boy to take batting practice with the team, and then crouched beside Mason once again. "It was good meeting you, buddy."
"Thanks for my visit and my presents." Mason reached up and hugged him, surprising Slade by the strength in his hold. "Good luck tomorrow. Mom and I will be watching the game here. I hope you guys win."
"I'll try to hit a home run for you."
"A home run on Opening Day would be awesome." Excitement radiated from his small form. "I hope I can come to batting practice with you soon."
"Don't worry. We'll make it happen one way or another." He'd do whatever
