Cade grins, sparkly like the white walls behind him. “There’s something I want to show you in person, but if you prefer, I’ll bring them to your office when I get back from D.C. Whatever you want.”
“It’s okay,” I say with false ease. “I’m already here.”
Stepping aside, he gives me freedom to roam his space. I didn’t have time to take in the house when I delivered the All-Star Game news, but I can now. Floor-to-ceiling windows wash the room in the moon’s silvery glow. My pink Converse squeak across the espresso hardwood. Stacks of video games sprawl beneath the biggest television I’ve ever seen. Framed photos of the people he loves cover the walls.
One of our many unfulfilled goals was to live together if Cade was ever traded to North Carolina, but the universe had other plans. He made himself a home here while I’m still struggling.
The hole deepens in my chest as I follow him into the kitchen.
“So, what did you want to show me?” I ask, taking a seat on a cushy stool at the island table. It’s so polished, it could double as a mirror.
Cade opens a taupe cabinet, grabs two glasses, and fills them with water. “Don’t you want to know what Jon said?”
Honestly, no. If I hear anything else he did to hurt Cade, I might explode. But I’m starting to realize this conversation isn’t for me.Heneeds and wants to talk about it.
My dismay dims slightly at his openness. “Sure. What happened?”
“You’ve never been a good liar, but thank you.” He slides onto the stool beside me. “It was a short conversation. He wanted me to make a statement about our time working together. Apparently, my silence has been keeping him from getting some valuable clients.”
“He asked you to lie for him?”
“Basically. He said it was the least I could do after everything he did for me, and that I could help him out.”
“Help him?” My fist slams against my table. “That emotionally abusive and manipulative piece of shit! Oh, when I get my hands on him—”
“No, Shay. It’s okay. Really.”
Cade’s voice is too calm and measured when speaking about finally confronting the person who forced him to cling to a title, ignored how unhappy he was, and pushed him through physical pain. Yet the man sitting beside me is composed and kind.
Two things I wouldn’t be if I were in his position.
“That sad excuse for an agent didn’t do his job. If you decide to break your silence, he should be dragged through the mud. Complaints should be filed, Cade. He should lose everything.”
“Maybe, but I don’t care anymore. Not about what the media says or what anyone expects of me.” A sharp laugh leaves his lips when my jaw drops in disbelief. “Okay, I do care, a lot. And I always will, but I don’t want to live life like this anymore. Spending every moment worrying I’ll make a mistake and get demoted or traded. Caring about the expectations of others. Staying up too late preparing for games and running on fumes. I want to just be.”
Just beingstarted off as nothing more than a phrase that left my lips in an attempt to help, but Cade took those words to heart. A state ofjust beingis different for everyone, and for him, it’s releasing the weight of the world’s expectations.
I’ve never been more proud of him.
Breaking rule five, I press my bicep against his. “Do you feel better?”
“I do.” He shatters rule five and rests his hand on top of mine. “And CLU emailed me this morning. I’ll be able to finish my degree in person during offseason, which means you did it.”
Finally.After getting no response from them after multiple follow-ups, I started looking at other universities that would take his credits. But I know how much Cade loves Clear Lake University. It’s his dreamto graduate from there, so I stood in the reception area until someone finally made time to meet with the woman who refused to leave.
“I’ve always got your back, Cade. In baseball and in life.”
“I know you do. It’s what made saying goodbye to Jon so easy.Youshowed me what a good agent looks like.” My hand goes cold when he lets me go, but he grabs a box and slides it in front of me. “And I want to show you this.”
With cautious hands, I peel back the flaps of the box. The penmanship of a physician is scrawled across every inch of yellow paper. At first glance, they look like love letters, but they’re anything but kind.
This is your worst game so far. Gotta work on your quickness.
I reach for another, and the rest are equally atrocious.
Do you want to be in the minors forever?
First good stop of the night. Sucks that we’re in the eighth inning.
