The door shuts behind me, solidifying the fact that there is now no place for me to run and hide, and so, like a criminal off to his firing squad, I walk forward and do my best to smile for the cameras that are shoved in my face. I look from man to man as I walk closer before my stare lands on Tiffany. With a smug grin, she loosens her grip on her father’s arm as I approach and grabs a hold of mine instead.
Raised to be a gentleman, I let her hold onto my arm for a moment before she puts her hand on my chest and nestles further into my side. Prying her off, I reach out and take one of the man’s hands and try my best to force a genuine smile. Tiffany gives everyone her signature pout. I shoot her a look that warns against trying my patience and follow the three gentlemen in front into the club.
I’m actually interested this time in whatever tricks Edward has up his sleeves by arranging this meeting. Maybe my future is not set in stone after all. More like it all depends on just exactly what they want, and how much they want me to sacrifice in order to get it.
* * *
Coming through the front door, I set my keys and phone on the counter. Shrugging out of my jacket, I loosen my tie, shaking my head in disbelief at the future that was just offered to me tonight on a damn silver platter.
An offer to play catcher for the Atlanta Braves next season.
On nights like this, when your future shines too good to be true, a beer just isn’t enough, and so I cross the room and pour myself a drink at the bar I have set up in the corner of the room. Giving myself a generous pour of my best bourbon, I lift the glass to my lips and smile.
I’ll be damned. I made it, almost. As long as I play with my head straight and my heart full in the last game of the season, I stand a chance at making it.
My heart full?
The thought stings as I think of the one woman who makes that possible. Taking a bigger gulp of bourbon than I anticipated, the liquid harshly burns as it slides down my throat.
There is no way in hell I can play the way I need to if shit is still not right between me and Rochelle.
My phone rings, snapping me from my thoughts. I turn quickly, making my way back to the kitchen counter and snatching it from where it sits. There is only one person I want to talk to right now and I pray to God it is her.
But my heart sinks as I take in the name on the screen. I think about not answering, but hell, the man just helped me land one of the best contracts ever. Right at the beginning of my career, too. I owe him at least a little respect.
I accept the call, “Edward, how are you?”
“I hear the meeting went well,” he says. “I didn’t want to trick you into going and wish I could have been there. I know your dad would have been, and I should have, too. But I’m happy to hear you’ve accepted their offer. That is, if things go well in a week or two after your final game.”
My heart hurts from the mention of my father. The Old Man is right. He and my mother would both be so damn proud to see that I didn’t give up. But it’s more than that. I understand now what my father was trying to tell me on the front steps the last time I saw him.
You got to follow your heart, son. Wherever it leads.
I’m determined to make my father proud and do just that, even if that means giving up what I once thought was most important, the game, for a girl I love more than anything.
But I can’t tell him that. Mainly because it’s the kind of shit that always has me and Ed squaring off in a fight since the day I met her. So, instead, I give him the thanks he deserves.
“Edward, honestly, I don’t know how to thank you,” I say. He doesn’t respond. Silence stretches a little too long on the other end of the line. “I mean it. I know I haven’t always made you proud, but it means a lot to me that you are giving me this opportunity. I won’t let you down, Old Man. I promise.”
“Hunter, you've never let me down. You may have not always done what I wanted, but you are no disappointment. I mean that.”
I close my eyes and let his words sink in. It’s not often I’m graced with fatherly compassion from Edward Cunningham.
“Speaking of you doing what I want. I bumped into Rochelle this evening and…”
“And that is where I will say it’s been nice talking to you, but I’m going to call it a night.” He laughs. “I just scored the contract of my dreams, Ed, thanks to you. Let me enjoy it a little longer, huh, without making my blood boil over a fight neither one of us is going to win.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “Tomorrow then.”
I roll my eyes, knowing there is no escaping it. “And Hunter,” he says. “I’m proud of you, Son.”
He ends the call and I stand with the phone to my ear for a little while longer, letting his words sink, letting my heart believe them. Ever since my father died, all I’ve ever wanted was for Edward to let down his guard and be proud of the choices I’ve made. It’s a burden I’ve wrestled with for far too long until I made my happiness a priority. Sad thing is the only thing that will make me happy now is a savior I never expected. And it’s not the game. It’s an Angel. An answered prayer in a world that’s been set on sucking the life out of me.
She’s the only real thing in my world of make-believe that has made my life worth living. This deal means nothing if she continues to push me away.
Chapter Thirty
Hunter
