Page 35

Stepping into the clubhouse feels almost like an out of body experience.

I didn’t think I’d be back in one of these again, certainly not as a player. My contract was up two years after I got hurt, and since it was going to take more than a year to recover, I figured my playing days were over. I figured nobody would want a recovering thirty-year-old on their team, so I bowed out early.

I like the little life I’ve built for myself out of the spotlight, but in hindsight, I wish I would’ve fought harder to stay in the game.

I took the early retirement so I could focus on giving back. I used my name to help StrongFitKids catapult to success, and I’ll continue to do so. Carla and I are old friends—never in any sort of romantic capacity, but we attended the same high school. She was in my brother’s class, and they kept in touch over the years. When he told me she’d started up a kids’ organization in San Diego and was looking for a programming director, I jumped at the chance.

I always thought about returning to the game, but it was in a more abstract sort of way—a what if sort of way. Not in a realistic sort of way.

But when that call from Troy came through, it seemed like a pretty easy decision. Things are rarely handed to us in this life, but Troy was handing me the chance to play the game that saved me more than once in my life.

And here it is, saving me again.

I realize it’s also because of the game that I can’t be with the girl I love—hell, it’s because of the game that I met her in the first place…but if I didn’t have baseball to fall back on when the inevitable end with Gabby came, I’m not sure how I’d get through it.

The logical side of my brain is trying to force me to believe that the end was inevitable. How could it have ever worked? Finding out her father was Troy just saved us weeks or months or even years of added pain and suffering after we fell harder and harder for one another.

I blow out a breath as Troy takes me to my locker.

My name is already listed on the plaque above it.

Noah 21.

A jersey hangs on the side. Noah 21 .

This is really happening, and my breath catches in my throat as reality slams into me.

I sit on the bench that will be my new home for at least the next three years, and my chest tightens with emotion. I grab a Vegas Heat towel sitting on the bench beside me, and I study the logo for a beat. A baseball with flames coming off it, representing our team.

My eyes heat, and I grab the towel and hold it up against my face as I draw in a deep breath to try to ward off the unfamiliar threat of tears that seems to be getting more and more familiar lately.

“Congratulations, Noah,” Troy says quietly beside me. If anyone understands the sort of emotions that are plowing into me right now, it’s him. I pull the towel away from my face as he talks. “I felt the same way when I first walked into this clubhouse. It’s fucking magic, man. Together, we’re going to be magic. We’re going to obliterate history when it comes to expansion teams, and we’re going to win out of the gate. We’re going to be a fucking force. You and me and the rest of this team we’re building. This is something special, Coop. Let’s fucking go.”

“Let’s fucking go,” I repeat, my voice hoarse but still full of fire.

“I’ll give you some time in here. I’ll be in the weight room when you’re ready.” He nods to a set of doors that lead directly to the weight room, and then he takes off through them.

I lean back into my locker and suck in a few deep breaths. I rub my palms up and down. It’s time to take the leap.

I look around the quiet clubhouse. Soon enough, it’ll be filled with players. We’ll all arrive around two on game days, and we’ll play video games or poker or waste time until it’s time for team stretching and batting practice. It’ll be relaxed until thirty minutes before game time, and then we’ll all move into focus mode as the inevitable nerves will start to kick in.

Will Gabby be in here then? If she’s interning for the team, she might be. Team and manager family members aren’t allowed in, but it’s different if she’s working for the team. She’s in marketing, so if she gets put on social media assignment, she might have to come into the clubhouse when I’m trying to focus on game mode.

I can’t have that.

I can’t be distracted by her in those important moments before game time.

I realize I have six months before I need to worry about it. I realize how different things may be in six months, but I can’t seem to push her out of my brain in this moment.

I just want to skip over the rest of this offseason and fucking get there . I want to play. But time’s a real steadfast bitch. When we want it to slow down, it doesn’t. When we want it to speed up, it doesn’t. It’s one of life’s most frustrating constants.

The door opens, and I recognize the man who walks through it.

“Danny Motherfuckin’ Brewer,” I say, and he grins as he walks up to me and grabs my hand in a bro shake that turns into a pound on the back.

“Cooper Motherfuckin’ Noah,” he says. “What are you doing here, man?”

“Playing third. You?”

His brows shoot up. “The elbow?”

“Surgically repaired,” I say dryly.

“They tapped me for first.” He shrugs. “Looks like we’re gonna be teammates.”

I make a face at him to indicate it’s my worst nightmare, and he laughs.

“Guess I’d rather play on the same team as you than against you,” I admit. Danny Brewer was the reason I fucking hated playing the Rockies. He’s a master of first base, and between him on first and me across the infield on third, we’re going to be a fucking force right out of the gate—just like Troy said. But the thing about Danny Brewer is that even though we were enemies on the field, we were friends off it. He’s a hell of a fun guy, and we went out more than once after a game and got fucked up together. “Troy hasn’t mentioned anything to me. How’d you end up here?”

“I wanted out of Colorado and you know Mr. Bodine. He made it happen.”

“How?” I ask, feeling a little stupid that I haven’t taken the time to research more about this team. In my defense, I’ve been preoccupied…but the team must already be filled with players considering the draft was back in July and the trade deadline was in August. We’ve got the expansion draft coming in November, too.

Jesus, I’ve really had my head in the sand.

“A few hours ahead of the trade deadline, he struck a deal with the Rockies back in August. They’re taking the first two picks from the expansion and Troy traded two picks for the regular draft next season.” He rubs his knuckles on his chest. “You know, four good players for me. No big deal.”

I laugh. “So modest. It’s good to see you, man. You still have my number?”

He nods. “I’ll use it sometime this weekend. I’m putting together a poker crew and we need a fourth.”

“Count me in,” I say. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

I head to the weight room, excitement coursing through me now that I’ve met my first teammate, and my breath is stolen by the sight in front of me. I feast my eyes on state of the art equipment, the types of machines that will get me into game mode the right way.

Troy stands talking to a man sitting at a desk near the back of the room, and I saunter over in that direction.

“Cooper, this is Nick Lynch, our head athletic trainer here at the Heat. We’ve spoken at length about you and he has some ideas,” Troy says.

I nod at Nick, a guy who appears to be around the same age as me with a much bushier beard than me. “Nice to meet you, man. I only have one request.”

Nick raises his brows, and he looks like the kind of person I could grab a drink with after he puts me through the wringer. “What’s that?”

“Be gentle.”

Nick laughs, and it’s a hearty laugh. “Have you done anything recently or are you in what we in the business like to call active rest ?”

“A better description might be inactive rest.” I twist my lips, and Nick laughs again. “I’ve hit the treadmill a few times since Troy gave me the offer, and I ran on the beach back in San Diego before I moved here. I’ve started changing my diet. But I could use a program to guide me from rest back into anything at all.”

“Can I take a look at your arm?” he asks, and I nod. He stands and moves around the desk, and he bends and flexes it at the elbow for me, nodding and muttering as he works. “It looks good, man. Looks to be in working order, and I think we’ll start you off light as you come off active rest and transition into rebuilding. In six weeks or so, we’ll shift into phase one, and you’ll be season-ready by February. I’ve worked out a diet plan, too, and I just ask you do your best in sticking to it.”

“Do pizza and-or beer appear anywhere on the menu?” I ask.

He doesn’t laugh this time. “There’s always a spot for pizza and beer. You know how to distribute your calories, man, so do what you need to do.”

He holds up a hand, and I grab onto it as we bro-shake. I love this dude already.

I chat with Nick a few more minutes, and he tells me he’ll send me everything I need. “You can call me any time if you don’t feel like reading it and want me to walk you through it.”

“Thanks, Nick,” I say, and Troy flicks his head toward the door.

“Ready for the next part of the tour?” he asks.

I draw in a deep breath as I think I know what’s coming shortly.

I follow him through the tunnel underground, and he points out the batting cages, the place where we’ll warm up prior to entering the game and the place where we’ll practice before games.

I follow him up a short ramp, and we’re in the dugout. I stare down at the bench before I turn around and look up, and when I finally do, my breath is stolen once again.

The stadium is before me. It’s empty, but I can already hear the volume of the crowd gathered to root for the home team rushing between my ears.

I look out at the seats that’ll hold over forty thousand fans at one time, and my eyes shift around the place to the scoreboard that I’ll look up at thousands of times in the future.

Finally, my eyes skim the green grass over to the dirt. I focus on the place where third will be once the field is ready…the place that will be my true home away from home.

A feeling of restlessness runs through my legs, and I fucking take off. I run out onto the field with my arms spread wide open, sucking in gulps of fresh air since the retractable roof is open. I run all the way to the outfield before I realize I never asked if it was okay for me to step on the grass, but I don’t care.

This is where I need to be.

This is where I’m meant to be.

It’s where I feel most myself. It’s where I feel closest to my father. It’s where I feel like I’m home and accepted no matter what else is going on in my life.

I sink down into the grass, and then I lie on my back and stare up at the sky. It’s cloudless, the norm for Vegas, and I pant as I try to catch my breath.

“Good form, kid,” Troy says over me a few beats later.

“Kid? I’m only eight years younger than you.” I chuckle, and then I sit up and draw in a deep breath.

“Everything okay with you?” he asks. He sinks down beside me, and this right here…this is what’s going to make him an incredible manager. Connecting one-on-one with a player. Mental check-ins. All of it.

I huff out something resembling a laugh, though it’s not very funny. “I’m all right.” I stare ahead at third base. I’ll be all right, anyway. Eventually.

This all feels so goddamn dramatic for something that barely got off the ground, and all that does is tell me how very much she came to mean to me.

“What’s going on?”

I clear my throat. “The girl I told you about…it’s over with her.”

“The one you talked about just yesterday when you said fate caused you to crash into each other?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Want to talk about what happened?”

She’s your daughter, Troy. “Nah. It’s complicated.”

He sputters a short laugh. “Aren’t they all?”

“Is Joanie…” I trail off, not sure how to finish the question, and he nods so I don’t have to.

“Yeah,” he says. “Nobody here knows, so if you could keep that quiet, I’d appreciate it.”

I hold out a fist for him to bump as a signal of my silence.

“Look, Coop. I need you at your best, and I felt like I had that for a night when you pulled in, but something’s different today.”

“A lot is different today.” I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “I guess I just realized where my focus needs to be.”

“Can it be here if you’re thinking about her?” he asks.

“Isn’t it better to end it now, six months before we take this field, than to hold out for the inevitable anyway?” I shoot back.

“You do realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” His eyes are on my profile.

“What am I doing?” I ask, keeping my gaze ahead on the dugout.

“Sabotaging whatever it is before it even begins. You were always like that. It’s why you quit playing after the elbow injury. But when you said so proudly that you were off the market yesterday, I saw a new fire in you. One I hadn’t seen before, especially not with that ex of yours.”

I glance over at him, not sure what to say. I felt the fire he’s talking about, and I think he might be right about sabotaging myself. I end things before they get too complicated. The one time I didn’t, I got cheated on.

But his words in the meeting earlier only confirm my suspicions. He trusts me to be a mentor to his daughter. He sees me in an authoritative position over her. What he does not see is me fucking her.

Could I tell him? Could I break it to him gently?

Could Gabby and I find a way to be together?

“You know, shortly after you broke up with her, she called me,” he says quietly.

My brows dip. “Stacy did?”

He nods. “She knew we were old friends from your playing days. This was before I met Joanie, and I was single. Playing around, you know how it is. Anyway, she asked if I wanted to grab a drink, and I declined. You just don’t do that to a friend, you know? You don’t fuck around with exes or family. And I know we’re in different positions now with you playing and me coaching, and that comes first in season always. But out of season, I always saw you as a friend, and I’m glad you’re here and we’re on the same team for once. I have a good feeling about teaming up with someone I trust the way I trust you, and I think we’re going to own this fucking town.”

Yep. That’s a big fat negative on going for the truth.

It’s only been a few hours. Time will heal whatever this is.

I hope.