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When I walk out of the locker room and to the bus lot, a flurry of reporters waits. It’s par for the course, but today, they’re all yelling my name.

And there’s more of them than usual.

And they’re snapping my photograph and getting up in my face.

We just lost a game thanks to a catch I missed. I struck out at bat twice , and I never touched a base today. It was a shit game, and I’m sure they want to know why I played so poorly.

The last thing I feel like doing right now is answering questions about why I suck.

But nope. It has nothing to do with the game or the way I played. It has everything to do with my personal life.

“What can you tell us about Stacy Earnhardt?”

“Will you be there for the delivery of your child?”

“Are you back together with the mother?”

I stare at the reporters for a second like they’ve all grown two heads, and maybe they have.

“What?” I finally ask.

The questions come firing off at me again. I’m helpless as I stand there taking the bullets.

“Noah, get on the bus,” Danny says from beside me as if ignoring any of this will make it go away.

I shake my head, and I look at the reporters. “Stacy is my ex. We broke up years ago and I have not been with her since the break-up. So if she’s pregnant with my child, it’s some sort of divine intervention. I am not back together with her nor will I be. Excuse me.”

I’m proud of myself as I walk away.

A weaker man might’ve pointed out that the baby belongs to Alex Hamilton, who she cheated on me with. But I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true—even though I’m sure there will be headlines tomorrow telling the world I’m denying the child my ex is carrying.

Whatever.

I can’t be moved enough to care.

Tonight’s for drinking.

I head out with the crew to the bar we’ve been frequenting, and tonight, the bar is filled with players from the team. I spot Troy across the way, and Dylan the intern is hanging out with some of the guys from the minor league. And I even see GM Mike hanging out with some of the coaching staff.

Everybody’s here, and for a second it just makes me want to crawl into the corner and hide.

With the big brass here along with the intern who’s my only direct connection back to Gabby aside from Troy, I should be on my best behavior, right?

I’m not in the mood to be good tonight.

I’m not in the mood to be the team leader. I’m not in the mood to impress Troy or Mike.

I’m in the mood to get fucked up and to try to numb some of the constant ache in my chest.

And that’s why I opt for tequila shots.

It’s stupid. It’s immature. It’s ridiculous.

But it also works quickly, and that’s what I’m going for right now.

After a shit game, shit headlines, and a shit love life, it’s the least I can do. Except I know I’m not doing myself any favors. As I toss back the second shot and wince at the horrible taste, I know I’ll play even worse tomorrow—if I can drag my ass out of bed to play.

But as it turns out, I have to drag my ass out of bed.

I hear loud knocking, and as I peel open my eyes, I’m not exactly sure where I am for a split second. Then I remember we’re renting this house in Arizona, but I’m not exactly sure how I got into the bed in my bedroom.

I glance to my left.

At least the other side of the bed is empty.

The knocking won’t subside.

“Dude, are you alive in there?” It’s Danny’s voice, and he’s yelling. “Are you naked?”

I lift the covers to check. Nope, not naked. I slept in jeans, which I never do unless I pass out cold and I’m too wasted to take them off.

“Come in,” I croak, and my mouth feels like I chewed on cotton balls all night.

“Dude, wake the fuck up! One, we have to leave for the field in an hour, but two…” He pauses, and he shakes his head. “No, you need to get up and showered before I hit you with two.” He sets a cup of black coffee down on my nightstand, and I’ve never been more grateful to have his friendship.

I pick up the coffee and blow on it when I see the steam coming off the top, and then I take a gingerly sip. “Ahh,” I say, and I’m reminded of my father.

He’d take that first sip of morning coffee and follow it up with an exaggerated ahh every time. And as I recall, it drove my mom nuts, so he’d do it after his second, third, and fourth sips as well. And beyond.

I can’t help a small smile at the memory even though I feel like I got run over by a dump truck.

Or perhaps a tequila truck.

“What the fuck are you smiling at, man? Do you even realize what’s going on?” Danny asks.

“I’m sort of enjoying the oblivion of not knowing what’s up your ass, and I’d appreciate it if you could lower your voice about fifty decibels.”

He shakes his head, and then he shoves his phone over to me.

I close my eyes for a beat before whatever this is hits me. I live in a moment of peaceful ignorance, and then I open my eyes to read the headline.

Cooper Noah out drinking as his child is born!

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter. I toss the phone back to him without bothering to read the article or look at the pictures. “So she had the baby?” I ask brightly.

Danny doesn’t laugh as I expect him to. “What are you going to do?” he asks, his tone gravely serious.

“Noah!” a voice calls from another room.

But it doesn’t just call . It yells. Angrily. And it’s immediately recognizable.

“I told you to get up,” Danny whispers.

“Thanks for the warning,” I mutter dryly.

A second later, Troy Bodine appears in my doorway. “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on with you when you’re supposedly so in love with my daughter?” he booms.

Jesus Christ. So I can’t be with her, but I also can’t be with anybody else?

I get that isn’t the issue, but my personal life is literally none of his business. Back talk won’t do me any favors right now, though, so I keep my trap shut.

“And a top of the morning to you, too, sir,” I say. I take another sip of coffee, and I can’t help another ahh out of habit.

Troy looks like he’s about to bust a vein in his neck as he looks at me. “You’re sitting here all relaxed without a care in the world while my daughter won’t answer my fucking calls and you’re knocking up your exes and galivanting around town like it’s no big deal? I brought you in to be a leader, Noah, and you’re acting like a clown.” He shakes his head. “Don’t bother coming to the field today.”

As much as it pains me to get out of bed, I rise to my feet so I can stand the fuck up for myself. “There are two separate issues at play here. You gave me an ultimatum, sir. You told me you would not allow me to fuck up the team, and you gave me no choice. It’s not my fault if your daughter doesn’t like what you did and won’t answer your calls. You made me choose the team, to adhere to the ninety million dollar commitment I signed off on to make you happy, to end things with Gabby, and here I am. I’m fucking up, and I’m heartbroken, and I’m a fucking human trying to move on.”

He stares at me with that flinty look in his eyes again. He doesn’t like me talking about his daughter, and that’s why we haven’t. But we’re here to have it out, so let’s fucking go.

“As for the second issue,” I continue, “I haven’t been with Stacy in years. That baby is not mine, and I told the press as much. She fucked Alex Hamilton, and he won’t take responsibility for it, so she’s hinting that I’m the father. I don’t know if she’s doing it to fuck up my life or if she’s doing it because she knows I’m the type of guy who would help out. She has nothing to do with any of this, and how I handle her is not anybody’s business but my own. Did I get fucked up last night? Yep, I sure did. Have I made all the wrong decisions lately? You bet your ass I have. But my father taught me to see my commitments through, and that’s why I’m here. If you choose to bench me, you’re doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t do when I chose to play.”

He's quiet a beat, and then he asks, “And the photos from last night?”

My brows draw together. “What photos?”

Danny, the silent witness to all this, nudges me.

“What photos?” I say a little louder.

“That’s what I was trying to show you, man,” Danny says. He hands me his phone again, and this time I scroll past the dirty headline.

I blow out a breath at what I see.

Normally I wouldn’t care. People can say shit about me all they want and I just brush it off. But I never cared so much about somebody else before, and this is something that would hurt her to see.

It’s me with my arm around another woman as we laugh together.

“Nothing happened,” Danny assures me.

We’re not kissing. We don’t even look that close, but it’s clear it was taken by an insider and sold to this gossip site.

And I can bet who the fuck took the photo.

“That fucking intern,” I mutter.

Troy’s eyebrows dip as he looks up at me. “The intern?”

I hiss out a breath. I didn’t want to get into this with Troy, but here we are. “He’s dating Gabby’s friend Mia, and he doesn’t like that Gabby’s a shoe-in for the social media position. He thinks it’s not because she’s the best person for the job, but because she’s related to you, and he and some of the other interns don’t like it.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen Mia around lately?” he asks.

I shrug. “Could be. Or could be that you’ve been too busy to notice.”

He glares at me a little, but I don’t care.

“I don’t want Gabby to see these,” I mutter.

“They’re everywhere, Cooper. I don’t think she’ll be able to avoid them,” Troy counters. “But I’ll take care of the intern, that little shit.”

I think about asking what he’s going to do, but that’s when I realize…I don’t care.

And as much as I wish I could get ahead of this, I can’t. It’s already out there for the world to draw their own conclusions, and my only option is to keep my head down and forge on ahead. “So am I getting ready to play or am I sitting out?”

“Get your uniform on,” Troy says gruffly, and then he walks out without another word.