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The best part about the intern getting fired was that Troy did it in front of us all as we arrived at the stadium for the game.

“Intern!” he yelled, and Dylan scrambled over to him. “You used insider knowledge both to your advantage and to your profit, and that is not something this team stands for, nor is it acceptable,” he said as he raised his voice at Dylan.

I have to say, it was far more satisfying watching someone else get yelled at than being the constant brunt of Troy’s anger.

I was sure it would center back on me before long, and I couldn’t help the tiny feeling of hope that took root in my chest. If Dylan was no longer working with us, would Troy call in another intern?

Would he call in Gabby?

My gut knew he wouldn’t, and the hope dissipated pretty quickly. He didn’t want me around her, and bringing her here would only have given us access to finding our way back to each other.

She had to be feeling it too. I knew she did.

Because I knew how I felt, and I knew how we were together. There’s no way she just picked up and moved on.

And maybe that is what gave me a glimmer of hope.

But with her in Vegas and me Arizona, Troy had an entire month to widen the divide between us. It was always unlikely he’d choose her as Dylan’s replacement, and she had a weekly class she needed to attend anyway.

And as it turned out, it isn’t her. They didn’t send a replacement, which means we didn’t get the social media coverage we were expecting. Instead, we were told to share any images we take with a team email address. I opted out of that nonsense since I haven’t exactly been in the photo-taking mood.

As the month went on, the ache in my chest seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

And as the month of spring training draws to a close with no more threats issued to me from Troy, the anticipation of heading home looms closer and closer.

I’ve been going through the motions as I battle the media frenzy surrounding Stacy and her insinuations, and through it all, I wonder what Gabby is thinking. What she’s doing. How she’s feeling. If she still loves me. If there’s still a chance for us.

I could’ve picked up the phone a hundred times, but even when I get back, I know I won’t. I can’t.

Not when Troy drew a line in the sand. Not when I think about the real reasons why I chose to end it with her.

I won’t come between her and her father. What they do now that I’m out of the picture is their decision.

But I also don’t know that I can play for Troy. I’m starting to think I should cut my losses and move back to San Diego—maybe try to get my old job back at SFK.

As the bus rolls back into Vegas and the flashing lights of the Strip come into view once we pass over the hill in Henderson, I can’t help but wonder whether Vegas was ever really the place for me.

“I miss Fun Cooper,” Danny whines as he slides into the empty seat beside me.

“I miss peace and quiet,” I mutter, and Danny laughs as he punches my shoulder.

“See? I knew your sense of humor was still in there somewhere,” he muses.

“Who said I was joking?” I ask.

“We’re going out to Honeys tonight if you’re game,” he says, mentioning the strip club frequented by players on the local athletic circuit.

“I’m out.” I shake my head and hold up a hand. “I’m just glad to be back home, man. Besides, I’m sick of being around all you motherfuckers.”

He laughs, but in truth I could use a few hours to myself. The only light that seems to be shining right now is on the fact that I get to go home to my big, silent house all by myself.

We only have one day off before opening day, and I don’t want to spend it hungover or full of even more regrets than I already feel. Besides, I know the sentiment of glad to be back home won’t last long. Our first two series of the season are at home, and then we’re out of town for a week.

The bus drops us at the stadium, and we all scatter to our own cars and trucks. I patiently wait my turn to exit the parking lot while many of the others show off by peeling out, but that’s never really been my style.

I head home, ready for that beacon of peace that’s been just beyond the horizon for an entire month, and as I turn the corner onto my street, the hope for silence is gone in a flash.

A car sits in my driveway. It’s not one I recognize, but it’s a Lincoln SUV. I only know one person who rents Lincoln SUVs when he’s away from home, and incidentally he also has access to a key to my house through our mother.

So Connor’s here, and maybe his family, and maybe my mother, and while I’m grateful that we’re close, grateful they came to visit, grateful to have such wonderful people in my life, it sort of feels like the wish and hope of peace and quiet flies right out the window of my truck as I pull into my driveway.

I walk in the front door, and it’s sweet. Really.

Posterboards proclaiming Welcome Home Cooper and Knock it out of the park and Twenty-One, He’s my son are hung in my foyer, and I hear music coming from the family room. I walk in that direction.

“Surprise!” my family yells at me, and sure enough, everyone made the trip—Connor, Marissa, Ethan, Jake, and my mother.

It’s great they’re here. I’m happy to see them.

But I also wanted a night off, and instead, I’m blindsided into the role of host.

They came out to attend opening day, and while I’m excited they’ll be here for that, excited we can all be together, I just wish they would’ve given me a little notice instead of opting for the surprise visit.

And I really wish my mother didn’t feel the need to confront me after everyone else went to bed.

“Have you talked to Gabby?” she asks. We’re sitting on the couch in front of my fireplace and television, both of which are turned off right now. She’s sitting with her legs tucked under her as she studies me while I’m collapsed back with my head resting on the back of the couch as I stare up at the ceiling.

Over the course of spring training, I talked to my mom a few times a week. Not daily like I usually do, but that’s how it is during the season. Things get busy. But she knows I ended things with Gabby, and she knows my heart is broken over it. That’s the extent of what she knows.

I shake my head.

“Coop, talk to me, baby,” she says softly. “You’ve been radio silent for the last month. You said you ended things, but you never said why, and I saw you two together. I know this is something special.”

“ Was , Mom. It was something special.” My voice is soft but firm.

“What happened between you two?”

I feel her eyes on me, and as much as I’m not ready to revisit every detail of what went down, maybe she has some words of wisdom to help me figure out a way to move forward.

“Troy and Joanie decided to get married the night before we left for Arizona in a surprise wedding. I walked into the chapel to see if it was time for photos while Troy waited outside, and Gabby was in there. She was beautiful, Mom.” I close my eyes at the memory of the absolute vision my girl was that day. “I kissed her, and Troy caught us. We had no choice but to come clean. Joanie admitted she knew, and he called off the wedding and stormed out. I found him at the club he owns, and he essentially told me I would not screw up the team over this and what I was doing was practically illegal. He told me I had to break it off with her before we left the next morning or he’d go to Mike and blow it up himself.”

“So you chose the team over her?” my mom asks, and I keep my eyes closed but I can tell she’s glaring and pursing her lips at me.

“It wasn’t like that.” I open my eyes and sit up a little to defend my choices. I know Gabby sees it that way, too, but that’s not what happened. At least in my mind it isn’t. “It wasn’t about me at that point anymore. It was about her relationship with her father. It was about honoring the commitment I made to the team before I knew that this thing with her was going to become what it did. It was about protecting her from the fallout of all of this. From the judging eyes of the media and the fans and the general public.”

“Honey, you can’t protect her from those things. She has a famous father. She’s in the spotlight whether she wants to be or not, and if anything, you there holding her hand might offer her a layer of protection,” she points out, which is honestly something I hadn’t thought of before.

Instead of thinking the two of us could get through this together by holding hands through it, my brain went the opposite direction to believe she’s better off without me.

And now I’m left a little confused as to which answer is the right one.

“Even if that’s true, what about Troy?” I ask. “I knew all along he’d never be okay with the idea of anybody with his daughter.”

“Then why’d you stay with her as long as you did?” she asks.

“Because I love her.” The answer seems so simple. “When we were hiding it from him, it was easy. It felt wrong, maybe, but we were flying under the radar.”

“Love should never have to be hidden.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. She squeezes it. “You’re miserable, baby boy, and it makes my heart hurt for you. I want to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

“You can’t fix the unfixable.”

“Gosh, you sound so much like your father.” She shakes her head as her words ping right into my heart. “He was so stubborn, and once he got an idea in his head, he had a hard time letting it go. It seems you have this idea in your head that you’re the sole leader on that team. But you know what? The Dodgers survived when you got hurt. It’s a team effort. I know you think you’re doing the right thing by honoring the commitment you made to the team, but if it’s at the expense of your happiness, then maybe it isn’t the right thing after all.”

My only response is to lean my head back onto the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling again.

“What do I do, Mom?” I murmur, my voice edged with emotion.

“Only you can decide that.” Her answer is predictable, but she’s right.

“What would Dad have wanted?” I ask. “Wouldn’t he have told me to honor my commitments?”

“He would have told you he loved you and he was proud of you no matter what you decided. And I think he’d tell you to consider whether you’re doing what you think you’re supposed to do or if you’re doing what you actually want to do.”

My chest aches that he’s not here as part of this conversation—that he hasn’t been here for any of these conversations for twenty-four years.

God, has it really been that long?

It’s been just over a month since I ended things with Gabby—since Troy forced my hand.

I remember the sentiment back when I ended things with Gabby the first time, back when I found out her father was Troy and I was staying in the bedroom beside hers. Back then I thought about how time is a cruel bitch that steals things from us, and back then I felt like I had to wait out the clock until I could move out of Troy’s place and get the season underway.

But now it feels like time is moving too fast. It feels like I’ve wasted the last month not being with her.

Things aren’t the same with Troy, and I’m certain they never will be again. It’s not like I chose his friendship over my relationship with Gabby. Either way I was going to lose him, I suppose. I always imagined I’d be able to shoot the shit with my father-in-law, that we’d be friendly with each other while he acted as the type of person I could go to for advice if I needed it. I always imagined the same thing about my manager. Instead, Troy has largely written me off when it comes to personal relationships, and instead his only focus is on coaching.

So I didn’t just lose the woman I love. I also lost my best friend, and I haven’t had the time to mourn either one of those relationships because I’ve been too busy with spring training.

But now I’m back, and I want my life back.

I want her back.

I can’t keep living like this.

“How do I get her back?” I whisper. Heat presses behind my eyes, an unusual and scary feeling I wouldn’t let out in front of anybody but my mom.

She grabs my arm and squeezes it in a hug. “You fight for her, baby. You chose the game when you ended things with her. So now you choose her. Whatever that means.”

Whatever that means .

Even if it means walking away from baseball.