Page 1

Chapter 1

Will

“Welcome to the Blues,” our new general manager, Jim Olsson, says as we walk in his office. He stands over his desk with his arms wide. “You boys had a long trip, please take a seat.”

Do you know what whiplash feels like? Because I fucking do. I know the feeling all too well.

For years I’ve had one constant—my team. I played for the Seattle Mavericks for five years and won the damn World Series literally last week. But in the past forty-eight hours, I’ve had to pack up all my stuff, scramble to find someone to take over my lease, and fly all the way across the country because I was the first fucking trade to go through. Well, technically, I was the second.

My teammate, Adam, and I were made a package deal so now we’re both starters for the Boston Blues. Me, the starting pitcher, and him, the catcher. I suppose I could have been traded with a worse teammate or by myself. Though, I’m not sure if alone would have been better or worse.

“Happy to be here,” Adam says, and I know he means it. While I’ve found this trade stressful and overwhelming, Adam seems unfazed. But that’s probably because he didn’t have to make this move alone.

Adam Reyer and his sister, Callie, have always been a “glass half full” kind of pair. She moved in with him earlier this spring and is now making the move as well. The six-hour plane ride from Seattle to Boston was the most time I’d spent with her. Key word being spent. While her beautiful fiery red hair and freckles galore make her sunshine and rainbows attitude more tolerable than Adam’s, it also made her hard to miss—but if any player thought they were going to talk to her after a game, they were sorely mistaken.

Mr. Olsson takes a seat in his desk chair. “I know you guys are jet-lagged and still have shit to get sorted, but I like to be clear from day one on how I plan to run this team.” He leans forward, putting his arms on the desk. “I won’t tolerate bullshit or slacking off. I want to make this a top organization, period. Some general managers can be very hands off but that’s not my style. I pushed for you both based on your experience and skill, but I’m not too attached, so sending your contracts back to assignment won’t be an issue if you can’t get on board.”

Well, I can appreciate his bluntness. One major hesitation with this trade was the fact that this is Mr. Olsson’s first year as General Manager. With the Blues having a pretty serious reputation in the league, and the last GM getting fired because of their losing streak last season, I know Olsson taking this position involved some serious hoops to jump through. He coached for years and was a hell of a player—I know a lot rests on his shoulders now as GM. The pressure is palpable.

“That won’t be a problem,” I clip. I don’t mean to come off rude, but this has been a long day, and Adam and I are good at what we do. We don’t need to be lectured on the importance of dedication. You don’t win the World Series by slacking off. “I also know that our contracts are up for renewal at the start of new year, and I want to add in a no-trade clause.”

There are some major downsides to being traded to Boston, but one bright side is I’m now only an hour away from my mom and sisters. Ever since my deadbeat dad walked out on us, it’s always been me and them. Being the “man of the family” is a little difficult when you’re three thousand miles away, but signing with the Mavericks was a dream come true. This past season especially, with the original starting pitcher getting injured and me battling to claim his spot. I earned starting pitcher with the Mavericks, and then to get traded so quickly…yeah, the whiplash is real.

Mr. Olsson laughs, not sure if it’s at my request or the boldness in asking. I don’t really care. I’m not going to let it go without a fight.

Adam glances my way with pinched brows. I didn’t mention any of this to him. He would have just told me to not even bother asking. Adam’s been playing nearly four years longer than me and I know he’d never dream of asking for something so major in a meeting like this. But if these are the cards I’m being dealt, then I’m going to play my hand.

“I get this is your first trade, but a no-trade clause isn’t exactly something you wager in the first meeting. I understand you are familiar with some people from the team, but you haven’t even practiced with the Blues yet.”

“I understand that. The Mavericks were my team for five years, the only team I’ve been with, but I’ve more than proved myself. This trade might not have been my choice, but this move puts me closer to my family, and I know an opportunity when I see one.”

Olsson flashes a sly smirk as he leans forward on his desk. “Family man, I like it. I’ll admit you’ve proved you're a damn good pitcher, but don’t think I don’t know you have a bit of a temper. I know you've been ejected a few times for some intentional hits. That won’t fly here. And while we’re being honest, I might have dug a little deeper into the both of you. It’s part of why I’m not surprised that Adam got you all here in forty-eight hours. While you’re now one of the top pitchers in the league, you're also anti-social. I don’t give two fucks what you do with your personal time, but when it comes to the team, you will integrate yourself. I want this team to be great, I want my players to be great, and that requires you to make friends.”

Well, shit. I can’t defend myself regarding the hits. I never intentionally hit anyone from the Blues but there are a few players in this league that I might have let get the better of me. But as for the loner statement, I feel that’s none of his concern.

I clench my jaw. So, just because I’m not Mr. Personality that means I’m not a team player? That’s bullshit.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep this conversation of family in mind. We’ll renew your contract for one season and if you can keep yourself in check and give me your all—I'll agree to the strictest no-trade clause your lawyers can draw up.”

“I can work with that.” I hold out my hand to shake on our deal.

“Great. Now, like I said, I know this is the first trade for you both, so our team’s secretary, Shannon, printed these for you. There’s a list of some apartments that house several of our players, along with any information you will need to get in this facility.” Sitting back again, Mr. Olsson taps his desk. “Now, you’re free to go. We’ll be in touch. I have a different fire to put out now as our team photographer decided to quit this morning with no notice.”

I simply nod and then stand, ready to sleep off the past forty-eight hours, but Adam doesn’t move. He now has his game-day face on. Is he going to try to add a no-trade deal too?

“Since we’re all being bold for our first meeting, I think I have the perfect girl for the team photographer.”