“The chicken lo mein is awesome and comes in family style if you’d like to share. I usually wouldn’t offer to do that with a client, but…”
I laughed as she trailed off, pursing her lips.
“Yes, I think we…know each other enough to share.”
“That we do,” she whispered with a slow nod as she called the waiter over and told him our order. She brushed the hair off her shoulder as she straightened and leaned forward in the seat, treating me to a peek at the graceful slope of her neck. She really was beautiful, and I really needed to stop gawking at her each time I noticed.
“So,” she started, nodding to the mic still clipped to my collar. “Are we ready to begin?”
“Sure. Ask me anything you need to.”
She tapped her phone screen and dug out a notebook from her bag.
“For my research, I had to watch a lot of videos. Well…not the reels set to music, but the actual games. You were an incredible player. I can see why the Bats are so excited to have you.”
“Well, I’d become suddenly available,” I said, trying to laugh, but the ending of my baseball career was fresh enough to sting.
“I watched that video too,” she said with a soft whisper. “Not the actual play at your last game. That was…too hard to watch.”
“I haven’t watched the replay either, for my own reasons, but I can see how it would be traumatic to see someone get injured like that.”
“I couldn’t watch because it was you.” She raised a brow. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt, especially knowing the choice you had to make after.”
My chest flooded with warmth at the sincerity in her gaze. Empathy, not sympathy or pity, was reflected in her brown eyes.
“Well, it really hadn’t been a choice. But I’m glad it wasn’t. I would have probably thrown myself into rehab that wouldn’thave worked, only to come back the injured old guy who couldn’t do his job anymore.”
I lifted my hat and smoothed my hand over my hair before setting it back on my head. I hadn’t wanted to talk about my career-ending injury and aftermath, but I couldn’t stop the word vomit over it.
“I think walking away was brave. And smart. Despite how much it must’ve sucked.” Her voice softened an octave as her hand flexed, almost as if she was going to reach out to touch mine.
I would have let her and grabbed on.
“I’d known my time was running out before then. I was still doing well, but playing wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Or at all. It’s the reason why our team chiropractor is now one of my closest friends. We spent a lot of time together after I turned forty.”
Her shoulders shook with a chuckle.
“What is it like, being on the other side? Is that something you planned on doing after you retired?”
Retired.The word still made me feel ancient and useless, even though I’d always been told to prepare for it.
“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. The Bats approached me while I was still in rehab after I had announced that my playing time in Washington and in general was over.”
“That fast?” Rachel reared back. “They didn’t give you a chance to recover?”
“My agent told me that was a good thing. That I was still a commodity. I resisted at first because I’d become very fucking sick of the word ‘still.’ Still playing, still doing well for a player my age, still wanted as a manager even though I couldn’t do the job I’d had since I was a kid.”
I fell back in the booth and dragged a hand down my face.
“Not sure if any of this is good for the article?—”
“I told you. I won’t write anything you don’t want me to. That’s a tough headspace to be in—and a lot of pressure to start not only a new job but a career with such high expectations.”
“The Bats are a good organization and a good team. I’m lucky for the opportunity and committed to the team. My hangups won’t get in the way.”
All I wanted was for my team to grow as players and have a good season, even if I had to do this show-and-tell in between the actual work.
“The team must be a little starstruck,” Rachel said with a warm smile. “I lost count of all your awards.”
