Page 19

19

CREW

Two Months Later

The Rockies weren’t making the playoffs.

It seemed not only had my love life turned to shit after Knox was traded, but so had the Rockies. We won games here and there but weren’t consistent enough, so we sure as shit lost more than we won.

We played our final game of the season at home, and it was a perfect mirror of the year we’d had. Sloppy defense. Cold bats. I grounded into a double play in the eighth that killed our best shot at tying it up. I wanted to break the bat over my knee, but I didn’t. Instead, I handed it off and walked back to the dugout like the pro I was supposed to be.

By the time the ninth inning ended, the other team celebrated like they’d just won the pennant.

No playoffs.

No Knox .

I hadn’t heard from him in months. He hadn’t texted. I hadn’t reached out either. But I still kept up with him by checking the box scores and watching the highlights when the Twins played. He seemed to have landed on his feet in Minnesota. Batting over .280. Solid glove at first. He looked comfortable out there. Confident. Like he belonged. And even though I was proud of him, it also felt like he had really, truly moved on.

I showered, changed into joggers and a hoodie, and offered the usual half-hearted goodbyes before ducking out. No one was in the mood to talk. I sure as hell wasn’t.

At home, I dropped my keys in the dish by the door and headed straight for the fridge. I grabbed a beer, then sank into the couch like my body weighed double. I didn’t bother turning on any lights, just flicked on the TV and let the screen’s glow fill the room.

The Twins were playing their last regular season game against the Mariners in Seattle. They’d already clinched a postseason spot, so it didn’t matter much in the standings, but Knox was still in the lineup, going full tilt like he always did.

He came up to bat in the sixth. Worked the count full, fouled off a pitch that was nearly caught by the first baseman, then roped a double into the right field gap. I watched him coast into second before giving a nod to the dugout.

He looked good.

I took a long pull from the bottle in my hand, something heavy settling in my chest. Not jealousy exactly. Just that quiet kind of ache you get when someone you care about is doing great, and you’re proud as hell, but you’re not the one they come home to anymore.

We’d let each other go. Both of us knew being on different teams, in different cities, wasn’t something we could manage.

Didn’t mean it hurt any less.

About Two Months Later

The offseason had settled into a monotonous routine. Workouts, occasional calls from my agent, and a lot of waiting. I thought about going to visit my family in Tennessee, but I hadn’t. Given I’d hightailed it out of there as soon as I could after high school, I decided against it. The truth was, going home still meant slipping into a version of myself I wasn’t sure I could keep faking anymore. Instead, I hung around Denver, going camping or hiking with some of the guys from the team. We’d gotten together to watch the World Series and then on Sundays to watch the Bronco games.

I tried to have the best time I could, but it seemed no matter what I did, I always thought about Knox. What was he up to? How did he feel losing in the first round of the playoffs? Just how the hell was he? I wanted to know it all, but I didn’t reach out. And while I hadn’t been able to look at another man, I totally understood he might be dating someone. It hurt.

For the first time in two decades, an expansion draft was coming up, which weighed on my mind. The Portland Seawolves and Carolina Crushers were joining the league, and every team had to submit their list of protected players. The Rockies hadn’t told me much, but I had a feeling. My numbers last season hadn’t been anything to write home about. Not bad, but not outstanding either. When the protected lists were finalized, my agent confirmed I wasn’t on it.

“Doesn’t mean you’ll be picked,” he’d said. “But it’s a possibility.”

Thinking about the possibility of switching to a new team was a weird, uneasy feeling. It made me overthink everything and wonder if I’d done enough. If I’d been good enough. The expansion draft wasn’t the same as the amateur draft; it wasn’t something people watched on TV with bated breath. It was more of a quiet thing with decisions made behind closed doors. And all I could do was wait.

I kept myself busy, to avoid thinking too much about the draft. But, I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t linger in my mind. Would they pick me? Would I pack up my life in Denver and move to a brand-new team, or would I play another season with the only team I’d known ?

My cell rang late one November afternoon. I’d expected it to be my mother asking me to come home for Thanksgiving, but instead, it was a Portland number. I sucked in a quick breath, then let it ring in my hand a few times before I finally swiped the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stratton. This is Anthony Lanning, General Manager of the Portland Seawolves. How are you?”

I sat down on the edge of the couch, trying to steady my breathing. “Hi. Um, I’m doing well. Thanks.”

“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”

“All right. Well, I’ll cut to the chase. We selected you in the expansion draft. Welcome to the team.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second. It wasn’t a shock exactly, but it was close. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”

“I know it’s a bit of a surprise,” he continued, “but we like what you bring to the table. Your experience behind the plate is exactly what we need. You’ve got a solid glove, and your ability to call a game in high-pressure situations is something we really value. Plus, you’ve shown a lot of leadership in the dugout, and we think that’s important for a team starting fresh.”

I let the words sink in. I’d always thought of myself as a steady presence on the field, a guy who could keep things together when the game got tense, but hearing someone else recognize it like that felt good.

“Thanks,” I said again. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Lanning affirmed. “We’ll be in touch soon with details about reporting dates and everything else. Just wanted to give you the news personally.”

The call ended, and I stared at the phone for a long moment. When I looked around my condo, the walls that had been my home for so long suddenly felt too small. I had everything I needed here, or at least that’s what I’d told myself. I thought maybe this place was where I’d be until I retired, and now I had to pack everything up and head to a city I’d never been to.

Taking a deep breath, I ran my hand through my hair while I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening. The thought of leaving Denver hit harder than I expected.

I stood and walked toward the window to stare at the mountains in the distance. I had friends in Denver. I had memories. Too many to count. Knox was one of them—one I would never forget.

I grabbed my phone again, scrolled through my contacts, and stared at his name. I wanted to call him and ask if he’d been drafted to Portland too. Instead, I put it down and sighed.

I’d know soon enough.