Page 55 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

When Coach said he wanted to meet with me first thing in the morning, I didn’t expect Bryson to join us.

I know he didn’t expect it either. He looks deceptively calm, but I don’t miss the slight pinch between his brows when he spots me sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Coach’s desk.

The left side of his face looks fucked. It’s swollen and bruised, and while his eye isn’t shut, it’s smaller than the other. There’s also a small cut on his nose and a gash on his lip.

I wish I could say I feel bad, but I don’t. I briskly drop my gaze to my knuckles, flexing my hand. My knuckles aren’t as red as yesterday, but they’re a little sore. I welcome the pain and only regret I didn’t get another punch in.

“Come in.” He quickly waves his hand inward.

He swiftly does and takes the chair next to me, knowing right now isn’t the time to push Coach’s buttons. Not that it ever is, but his expression is grim. Piercing blue eyes sharpen and his mouth sets in a straight line.

“Coach—”

He lifts a hand, cutting Bryson off.

“You don’t speak. You listen.” He sits up straight, his body visibly rolling with anger. I’m sure like me, Bryson is scared as shit because Coach is a terrifying man. “I’m disgusted with both of your behaviors. So fucking disgusted, I was almost tempted to suspend you?—”

“Coach—”

He slams a palm hard on his wooden desk, cutting Bryson off again. “You have lost the privilege to speak! You shut up and listen.”

Bryson nods at the fury in his voice and sinks in his chair.

Coach crosses his arms against his chest, veins popping on his face and neck. “I was tempted to suspend you both. Never in the ten years that I’ve been coaching have I had to deal with this middle school bullshit, but I can guarantee you that it’ll never happen again.”

My heart races, palms sweat, and I spiral with thoughts of what that could mean.

“As of today, you two will be each other’s catching partners, sharing hotel rooms, and sitting on the bus and plane together. Really anything that involves two people. You will learn to get along and treat each other with respect.”

Fuck, this is worse than any other punishment. I’d rather be suspended, and I’m sure Bryson feels the same way.

He breathes out a frustrated sigh, every muscle on his face twitching as if he’s holding back from going off. “You better be glad you caught me on a good day and that we’re on a winning streak. Now get out of here and go get ready. Daniel, stay back for a moment.”

Bryson eyes me briefly before he nods and slips out.

“Coach—”

He lifts a hand, then wipes his palm down his face and reclines in his chair. “Daniel, you better be glad the Dean and I like you. Bryson’s father is a particular man and let me tell you…” he grunts agitatedly. “Whatever, it’s been taken care of. This better not happen again.”

“As long as he doesn’t speak about Josie again, we’ll be okay.”

“No girl is worth?—”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, I really don’t. I have nothing but an abundance of respect for you, but Josie is worth it. Consequences be damned.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Danny, I understand?—”

“Would you kindly disregard it if this was your daughter?” I know I just crossed a line, but I need him to understand how serious this is for me. Josie isn’t just some girl, she’s my girl. “If someone was calling her names, talking shit about her that wasn’t true?”

Coach removes his hat and drops it on his desk, raking his fingers through his black hair. He breathes in deeply, releasing a brittle chuckle. “I understand, I really do.” He pauses, eyes distant as if he were thinking something but he shakes his head. “But don’t let this happen again.”

I only nod, not sure I can physically voice out loud a promise I might not be able to keep.

“Before I let you go, I wanted to ask about the email.”

I wipe my palms on my thighs, anxiety slithering in my chest. “I haven’t had the time to?—”

“There’s no pressure, but you know this is a good way for you to communicate directly with the teams and the MLB.

This is an amazing opportunity, and I don’t want you to miss out on it.

” He must sense my hesitation or I might not be hiding it well because he asks a question that makes my chest feel tight.

“Regardless, if you decide not to fill out the form, you’re still eligible for the draft. ”

Unlike the NBA and NFL, we don’t have to enter the draft. For the MLB you’re eligible once you’re over twenty-one or have done three years of college. There is also another exception for high school players, but that’s beside the point.

I’m eligible and while that’s great, I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve it.

I just don’t know how to tell him or anyone else that.

“How much do you think we’ll get once we get drafted?” Adrian asks as we watch the MLB draft. Every July, he, dad, and I sit on the couch and watch it together.

“The chances of getting drafted is low ? —”

“Stop being so negative. It’s going to happen and when it does we’ll marry models and buy a penthouse.”

“Garcia?”

“Sorry, what?” I blink the memory away, look down at Josie who’s staring up at me with worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I shift my attention back to the bookshelves on display. I absently let my gaze roam over them, not really looking at one in particular. “I just remembered something.”

We came to the store to buy bookshelves and a few more things for the house.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I muse over her question and walk down the aisle; she follows beside me silently. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey.” She stands in front of me. A touch of irritation mars her face.

I know it isn’t directed at me; sometimes she looks mad when she’s really not.

I think it’s hot when she looks at me like that, but that’s not something I should be focusing on.

“Nothing you say is stupid. Unless you’re calling yourself hot. ”

I smile, feeling the constricting pain in my chest dull. I pull my hat off, needing to grab something that isn’t her before I situate it on my head.

The need to touch her has been constant. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t want to touch her. We wouldn’t need to do anything. I’d be okay with just holding her, listening to her heartbeat and the sound of her voice.

“I was just thinking of Adrian.” I clear my throat, but a rock lodges itself in the middle of it, making it hard to swallow.

“Tell me about it.” She grabs my wrist and squeezes it, but she doesn’t pull away as if she knew this is what I needed to feel grounded.

I’m overanalyzing a touch, but the way she’s staring at me steadies me.

“Right here?” I look around. We’re in the middle of the aisle, but anyone could walk by.

“Yeah, but no pressure. Just know that I’m here.” She smiles and on cue the fireworks go off.

“Every July, Adrian, Dad, and I would watch the draft and we’d imagine ourselves being there.

Though sometimes it was hard for me because it seemed impossible, but Adrian was very optimistic.

We, uh…” I smother a chuckle at the memories.

“We’d talk about all the things we’d do once we started making millions.

Like marrying models and buying a penthouse.

We’d talk about all the nice furniture we’d buy and many other things.

” A weight of sadness grips my bones, the words leaving my mouth as rough as sandpaper.

She squeezes my wrist again and rubs her thumb in gentle circles on my skin.

I drag my trembling teeth along my quivering bottom lip.

“I know it sounds stupid, but we were kids and we thought it’d be cool.

We knew when we accomplished those things, it’d be our we made it .

Being here with you made me think about that moment. ”

Her eyes are soft and understanding. “Really?”

I rub the nape of my neck. “Yeah.”

“You realize I’m no model and we don’t live in a penthouse?”

My priorities have changed. I don’t want any of those things. I want you. I need you, I want to say but my tongue feels heavy, stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Your house is the nicest place I’ve ever lived in, so it’s pretty much the same thing. And I’m living with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Her house doesn’t have the typical beach house interior. The furniture, appliances, and everything else is very modern and sleek. It sometimes feels surreal that I get to live in a house like hers. And don’t get me started on my bedroom and bathroom.

She drags her teeth along her bottom plush lip as a pink tint colors her cheeks. “Hold on to those memories and make them a reality. Marry two models and buy the penthouse.”

“My priorities have changed,” I manage to say. “I don’t want that.”

“What do you want then?” Her gaze holds mine and her hand tightens around me.

You. “Let’s make a deal.”

Her lips quirk. “Okay?”

“If we’re not married by the time we’re thirty, we’ll get married. And we’ll have four babies like we talked about.”

Josie blinks, taken aback. “You want to marry me? Why?” she asks like the thought seems unfathomable, something she’s not entirely processing.

“Because I see a life with you,” I say because I don’t want to lie. I don’t want to pretend like I haven’t thought about it. “Because you make sense. Because you make me happy and I hope I make you happy.”

A quiet hum fills the space between us. Her silence feels everlasting, unnerving me.

“You make me happy.” She voices shyly, twisting her ring. “And you have a lot of great qualities I’d be dumb to turn down.”

I chuckle softly, acting nonchalant about her response and not the way my brain is jumping with happiness. “I do, don’t I?”

“But I don’t. You might want to rethink your deal.”

I quickly shake my head. “There’s nothing to think about.

Josefine, I like you as you are. You’re smart and a smart-ass.

” She glares but smiles a little bigger at that.

“You’re resilient. Strong. A fighter. You .

You have a lot of great qualities. Don’t ever let anyone believe you don’t because you do.

” I pause, really imagining Josie being my wife.

Mine forever. Whoa . “And I also like taking care of you. I like doing things for you, so we’re good.

But just so you know, once we’re married, you can’t divorce me, Jos. I’m serious.”

Her entire face softens and glows. “It’s your funeral.”

“So do we have a deal?” I pull my hand back and extend it.

Josie places her hand in mine, shaking it. “Are you serious about the babies?”

“As long as you want them, yes.” My heart skips a beat.

“Okay, deal.”

“Okay, deal,” I echo, feeling ten times lighter.

The next two hours, we spend picking out a bookshelf and a few other things. And as I go to check out, Josie goes missing.

I search for her, using a singsong voice as I say her name. I find her in an aisle I wouldn’t have ever expected her to be in. The toy section, particularly standing in front of a shelf filled with stuffed animals.

There’s a faraway look on her face, like she’s lost in thought. I stand next to her, making sure the cart isn’t in the way.

“Do you want one?” I ask.

Josie jolts back as if she hadn’t realized I was standing next to her. She makes a psh sound. “No, these are for kids. Are you ready to go?”

She briskly walks away before I can answer.