And I justwantedhim.
He came back to my hotel room with me. We banged. I told him I’d never be in Copper Valley again. Before he left, he gave me his number and told me to ping him if I was wrong.
I had no idea he was the captain of the Thrusters.
When he popped a dimple as he grinned and told me he did as little as possible, I thought he was probably an account executive at some industrial firm or an engineer or a teacher who liked playing bars for fun when he wasn’t at work.
Much to my surprise, the Fireballsdidhire me. It’s been the best professional situation of my life. I love the team. I love being on the ball field every day of summer. I love my fellow coaches and the team we’ve built and the support we get from management.
An even bigger surprise, though, came halfway into my second season. I was out on the field, soaking in the sun and smelling the grass and talking to one of my players about what he was likely to see from the opposing pitcher that day, when Duncan strolled out of the dugout in a Fireballs jersey. I was so startled to recognize the guy from the bar that I almost tripped while standing still.
And I don’t trip.
Dislocate my shoulder, yes. Trip, no.
Our eyes met, and his jaw dropped, and I forgot what I was doing, which is the last thing I ever need to do on a ball field.
Standards are higher for me than anyone else on the coaching staff.
I don’t want to be thattoken woman coach. So I don’t fuck up.
Ever.
But while I’d kept his number and thought about him occasionally, I hadn’t texted him before that night.
Mostly because I don’t date.
But I had to text him, to ask him to please not mention that he knew me.
And when I said something along the lines ofyou didn’t tell me you were a professional hockey player, he responded something likeyou didn’t tell me your interview was with the Fireballs, but I’m glad it was. Wanna get a drink and catch up?
The right answer was no.
I picked the wrong answer because he was friendly and funny and flirty over continued text messages, and I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask him in person to please respect my professional boundaries.
And instead of setting those boundaries, I completely lost myself in enjoying what he called acookie dateat his place, and then we banged again.
And then kept seeing each other.
Casually.
I thought.
Until I got hurt while he was teaching me to ice skate and he offered to move in with me to help take care of me, sincewe’re going to move in together eventually, and I freaked out and said I wasn’t ready to be serious, and he freaked out right back and asked what the fuck we were doing if this wasn’t serious?
But that’s my world.
Baseball first, fun second, commitment never.
Not when I saw firsthand what blind commitment did to my mom. And not with my dating history.
And my dating history is exactly why tonight is going to be awful.
Tonight, I’m out of my league.
That interview that I was sure I’d bombed five years ago has ultimately led to me being in a private hotel suite with Waverly Sweet, international pop star and wife of one of my former players.
And my friend.
