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Chapter thirty-three

Hazel James

If I could personally thank the designer of baseball pants, I would. Even in a practice uniform, Emmett looks good . He invited me to watch his practice today while June and Raven were at school. I thought it might get boring, but there’s something captivating about how intense his focus is. It makes me think about the times that focus has been directed at me…which only serves to make my already pink skin even brighter.

I take a sip of my iced matcha, then press the cold plastic cup to the side of my face. The condensation wets my cheek, but it staves off the heat. The only downside of being here is the blazing weather. Emmett put me in a shaded part of the stadium, but the Tennessee sun is brutal. My Nashville Cowboys t-shirt is sticking to my back, and my hair is in a messy pile on my head because the cute half-up, half-down style I had it in felt suffocating.

Emmett looks my way and I quickly lower the cup, then wave at him. He tips his hat. I hope he can’t see my discomfort. He seemed excited for me to come to his practice. I know if he thinks I’m not feeling well in any way that he’ll insist on me heading home. He deserves for me to be here supporting him like this. A little heat is nothing compared to what I’ve put him through the past couple of days.

When he turns his attention back to the pitching coach he’s been training with, I pull out my phone. No news from the phone interview I had for a job at a daycare. It’s not my ideal situation–I prefer being a nanny to one or two kids–but it will do. If they want to hire me, that is. I still haven’t said anything to Emmett, and it’s been three days since I told Raven she could live with me. We’ve been staying in his guest wing, though we should have left already.

I couldn’t do anything without a plan though. Now I have one, and I just have to work up the courage to tell him–and sweet June–that I’ll be quitting. Then we can date normally. Well, as normally as a professional baseball player and his ex-employee can manage.

My phone starts to buzz in my hand, but the number on the screen isn’t the daycare’s. I have that one saved. I answer quickly anyway, in case it might be a second number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Hazel James?” a male voice asks.

“It is.”

“This is Brock Jones, Emmett’s agent.”

My eyebrows raise. This is unexpected.

“Oh, I didn’t know Emmett gave you my number.”

It seems out of character for Emmett not to give me notice about something like that, but it’s been a hectic few days.

“He didn’t,” Brock says, confusing me even more. “Not directly, at least. I have all of his employees on file.”

I shift in the stadium seat.

“That makes sense. Is there something I can help with?”

“I’m just calling to make sure there’s nothing…” he trails off. I hear typing in the background. “ Unsavory in your background that I should know about.”

My stomach tightens. Anxiety climbs up my throat. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking or the need for it.”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. His voice sounds far away as he tells someone to push his next meeting.

“Sorry about that.” More typing noises. “As we’re rolling out the news about you and Emmett, people will go digging. It’s best if I know right away what we could be dealing with.”

Emmett glances up again. I smile, but it’s hard to keep an exuberant expression while thinking of the media combing through my past.

“I don’t have any personal history like that, but my mom recently dealt with alcohol poisoning. I’m about to be the caretaker of my younger sister.” I cringe as I realize I just told Brock before I told Emmett.

“That’s good,” he says in an absent tone.

“Um–”

“Sorry!” he blurts, sounding more alert. “I didn’t mean that the part about your mom was good. I’m just swamped right now. I apologize. Please don’t tell Emmett I said that or he’ll take my head off with a baseball bat.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s okay, I know our situation isn’t easy.”

“All a part of the job.” He takes an audible breath. “I meant to say that it’s good you’ll be caring for your sister. Not only does it sound like it’s better for her, but it will make the public sympathize with you more.”

I frown at his wording. “I don’t want to hurt Emmett’s image, but I don’t think I want to broadcast my family drama to the world.”

“I was thinking it would only be used if they found something on your mom, but of course I would never bring anything up that you weren’t comfortable with.”

I relax a little. He’s just trying to do his job. It’s not his fault we’re in this situation, and this is his way of helping.

“If it helps Emmett, it’s okay to say,” I tell him. “But I’d like to stay out of the media as much as possible.”

Brock lets out a short laugh. “You chose the right man then. Emmett despises all media. This is going to be the most publicity he’s dealt with in years.”

My stomach sinks. In years . That means he hasn’t dealt with anything like this since his divorce . Now, because of my job and my family history, he’s going to be put through something he hates again.

“Was my history all you needed?” I ask, because I’d really like for this conversation to be over.

“That was my main topic, but I also wanted to tell you that it would probably be good for you to go through some media training. There’s a chance you’ll be approached by reporters or asked to do an interview. You’ll need to know how to turn them down politely or know which questions to answer.”

“You really think they’ll want to talk to me?”

“Well, you’re the first woman Emmett has dated since his divorce. And you’re June’s nanny.” My head droops at his words. “So you have a higher chance than the average MLB girlfriend. The training isn’t much, just a video course I send to WAGs. I’ll email it to you.”

“WAGs?”

“Wives and girlfriends, specifically of professional athletes,” he says this in that same absent tone. The typing intensifies. I should stop wasting his time with things I could Google.

“Okay, I’ll watch it. Thank you.”

“I’ll have my secretary send it over. Look for an email from Marie.”

“Is that all?” I ask, unable to help myself. “Is there any other way I can help?”

“I’ll let you know if there is. In the meantime, just lay low.”

I nanny for a living and crochet as a hobby. I think I’ve got laying low covered.

“I can do that.”

“Good, tell Emmett I’ll be in touch if there’s anything I need from him. Have a good day.”

The call ends before I can respond. There’s another thing to add to my list. Get a new job, tell Emmett about said job, fill out paperwork to become a legal guardian, move my sister into my apartment, then look for a house I can afford because said apartment now feels unsafe. And during all of that, find time to watch a course about dealing with the media because, at any moment, I could be thrust into the spotlight.

I’m sure I’ll handle all of that perfectly and won’t have a breakdown or seven at all. I resist the urge to curl in on myself. Now is not the time to have any of those impending breakdowns. Emmett would run off the field if he saw that.

I raise my gaze in time to watch him throw the ball. It hits the glove of the catcher with a smack loud enough for me to hear in my seat.

He turns to say something to his pitching coach and he’s smiling. I love his smile. It’s surprisingly boyish for such a gruff man, and even when it’s not directed at me, my stomach fills with butterflies. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. All the more reason for me to do my best to be as perfect for him as he is for me. A good girlfriend wouldn’t be this much of a burden. Relationships are supposed to be a balance of give and take. I can’t keep taking from him. Emmett should be able to relax and not worry about me.

I straighten my spine and strengthen my resolve. I’ll get through this. I won’t cave under the pressure. I’ve made it this far. What’s a little more weight on my shoulders? When you’re carrying a boulder, a couple of rocks don’t make much of a difference. I’ll make it through all on my own, and then one day, I’ll be able to rest. My throat tightens as I think about how often I’ve told my heart just a little longer . I shake off the thought. I can do this. I’ll have my dream life and make sure everyone I care for does too. No matter what it takes.