Chapter Eighteen
Nash
T he adrenaline rush from tonight’s win pumps through my veins as I jog down the corridor toward the press room. Outside, lightning flashes against the stadium windows, illuminating the storm clouds that rolled in during the ninth inning.
“Ten minutes, Fontaine!” Coach Donnovan calls after me. “Skip the shower if you have to!”
I nod, ducking into the locker room just long enough to towel off and throw on a clean Street Sweepers pullover on top of my uniform.
On my way out, I stop in front of a full-length mirror and run a hand through my hair to smooth it back.
It’s not my best look, but it’ll have to do.
Besides, tonight isn’t about looking perfect.
It’s about finally announcing the Diamond in the Rough Initiative to the public.
When I reach the press room, Carmen is pacing by the entrance, phone pressed to her ear.
“There you are,” she whispers, covering the mouthpiece. “Local news just confirmed they’re sending a crew. This is getting bigger than we expected.”
My stomach tightens with anticipation. It’s one thing to face the press about baseball—I’ve been doing that since college—but tonight is different. I’ll be revealing a side of myself the cameras have never seen.
While Carmen wraps up her call, I pull out my phone and type up a quick text to Benji.
Turn on the TV to Channel 8. I’ve got a surprise for you.
I think about sending another text to Avery, but I don’t want her to think this is all just some ploy to win her back. Not that I’d mind if it worked, but Benji needs to know how important he is to me, even if I screwed things up with his sister.
A production assistant signals it’s time to start, and Carmen turns to me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
The press room is more crowded than I expect for a post-game conference. Cameras flash as I take my place at the podium, and I spot Coach giving me an encouraging nod from the back of the room.
“Thank you all for coming,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“I’m here tonight to announce something that’s been in development for quite some time now.
It’s called the Diamond in the Rough Initiative—a program designed to provide quality baseball equipment and mentorship to underprivileged youth in Chicago. ”
As I outline the program details—the equipment banks, the merit system, the local business partnerships—the room buzzes with excitement. I just hope Benji and Avery are watching for this next part.
“Someone very special once told me that the most valuable things in life... you can’t buy with money,” I continue, letting Avery’s words flow through me.
“It took me longer than it should have to understand what she meant, but I get it now. The value of a baseball glove isn’t in its price tag.
It’s in the dreams it helps our young athletes chase. ”
The questions begin immediately. Most focus on the program itself, but eventually, a reporter from the Tribune raises her hand.
“Nash,” she says, “This is an impressive initiative. Given the Street Sweepers’ travel schedule, when do you plan to officially launch the program? I understand the team has another lengthy road trip coming up.”
I nod, leaning into the microphone. “You’re right. We leave tomorrow morning for a two-week stretch. First stop, Cincinnati. The official rollout won’t be until after we wrap up our current season,” I explain. “We’re announcing it now to begin building partnerships and securing resources.”
As questions pour in about whether I think Chicago is strong enough to make this year’s playoffs, I find myself wanting to stop by and see Benji and Avery on the way home.
I want to tell them how much this program means to me—how much they mean to me.
But without knowing if they even saw the broadcast, stopping by this late would be a risky move.
The last thing I want is to push myself back into Avery’s life uninvited.
Coach steps in to field any other questions about playoff prospects when a commotion near the back door interrupts the interview.
That’s when I see them.
Several reporters turn their heads, and the flash of cameras redirects toward Avery and Benji, who are now standing in the doorway, drenched from head to toe. What’s even more unexpected is how they are dressed.
Benji is wearing a blue hoodie over a pair of bright green pajama pants covered with dinosaurs, and Avery’s outfit isn’t much better.
Her white tennis shoes are soaked, and under her raincoat is an oversized Sweeper’s shirt that looks an awful lot like one that went missing from my laundry.
Strands of hair are still stuck to her face, and even without makeup, I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
For a moment, I’m frozen in the corner, certain I’m hallucinating. But then Avery’s eyes lock with mine, and everything else fades away.
The spell breaks when reporters swarm toward them, questions flying fast.
“Excuse me, are you Avery Morrow?”
“Is this the boy Nash was mentoring?”
“What’s your relationship with Nash Fontaine?”
“Why are you here tonight?”
Avery hovers like a deer in headlights with Benji clinging to her side while reporters shove microphones toward her face.
Before I can register anything else, I cut through the crowd with Carmen calling after me, instinctively placing myself between Avery and the press.
“That’s enough,” I say, leaving no room for argument. “These are my personal guests. They’re not part of the press conference.”
A photographer pushes forward. “Just one photo—“
“I said that’s enough.” My voice drops lower. “Find something more exciting to report on.”
I place a hand on Avery’s back, guiding her and Benji toward a private elevator near the administrative offices. The three of us slip inside, and as the doors close, everything is finally quiet.
For a moment, none of us speak. Water drips from Avery’s clothes onto the elevator floor, Benji’s teeth are chattering, and I’m still trying to process the fact that they’re actually here.
“We saw you on TV,” Benji blurts out, finally. “Your program sounds awesome! Like, really, really awesome!”
I smile, my eyes drifting to Avery’s. “Thanks, Champ. But you know you didn’t have to come all this way when you could’ve just called.”
“We, uh—“ Avery stammers, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “We heard you were leaving tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say, studying her face. “Early flight to Cincinnati.”
She gives a nervous laugh. “Right.”
“So, you came here tonight because...?” The question hangs in the air, heavy with hope and uncertainty.
Avery shifts her weight, looking everywhere but at me. “Your program. It sounds great. We wanted to say congratulations. And thank you—for mentioning that part about value.”
“Is that the only reason you came?” I press, cautiously closing the distance between us.
Her eyes flicker to mine, then away again. Something in her expression makes my heart race.
Benji tugs at her sleeve. “Avery, the rose.”
Avery’s cheeks flush pink. She glares at Benji as he steps back into the corner, then reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a slightly crumpled red paper rose. She holds it between us like an offering.
“Not… the only reason,“ she admits with a shaky smile. “Nash, I’m sorry. I should’ve never left like I did, but I guess I was so afraid of letting myself fall for a guy like you that I ran.”
“A guy... like me?”
“Sorry. That came out wrong.” Avery looks up, flustered.
“Before I met you, I thought you were just another jerk ballplayer with tons of money who loved to show off. But you’re so much more than that, Nash.
You’re kind, and you actually care about people.
When you started working with Benji, I knew it would be love at first sight for you two.
But then I thought—why me, you know? You’re the kind of guy who women throw themselves at. You could have any girl you want.”
The vulnerability in her eyes is enough to do me in.
“And what if you’re the only girl I want?”
Her eyes widen, and something electric passes between us. I take another step closer, drawn in by an invisible force, and her breath catches as I reach to brush her cheek.
“Ummmm... you guys.” Benji’s voice from behind me cuts through the air. “If you’re gonna kiss, can I at least get off the elevator first?”
“My bad, Champ. Almost forgot you were there.” I turn and reach out, pulling him in for a side hug.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes as he wraps an arm around my back.
I pull away at the ground floor when the elevator dings and the door opens. “Give us a minute?”
“Fine, but don’t take forever. It’s cold, and I’m still soaking wet, you know.”
When he steps out, I reach over and press the “door close” button, never taking my eyes off Avery. The moment the doors slide shut, I pull her into my arms.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper into her hair.
“I missed you too,” she confesses, looking up at me with those honey-brown eyes.
When our lips finally meet, it’s like coming home. The kiss deepens, and I feel her melting against me, the paper rose still clutched in her hand as her arms wrap around my neck. Nothing in my life—not winning the championship, not signing my first contract—has ever felt this right.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, I rest my forehead against hers.
“So,” I murmur, “does this mean you’re willing to give us a real shot?”
She nods, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m all in if you are.”
“I’ve been all in since the night you kissed me,” I admit.
“Hey! You kissed me first.”
She looks at me with narrowed eyes.
We both laugh, and I kiss her again, amazed by how quickly life can change. Less than an hour ago, I was announcing a program inspired by a relationship I thought I’d lost. Now I’m holding the future in my arms—a future that includes not just Avery, but Benji, too.
The reporters are gonna have a field day with this, I can see it already. The tabloids will run wild, my parents will have their opinions, the team management and even Avery’s boss might raise their eyebrows…
But you know what? They can all just get over it.
Because some things are worth fighting for, and I’m never letting this one go again.