I love working here, but if they turn on me too, thendammit, they don’t deserve me.
I want to work in the majors. I want to spend my springs and summers and falls helping lead a team every afternoon and evening on the ball field. But I have other options in places that will let me be more of myself, even if I wouldn’t get the same rush and feel the same sense of accomplishment that I do working at the highest level of baseball.
He leans back in his chair and tucks his hands behind his head. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been exactly in your shoes, but a lot of things about this season make more sense now.”
Dammit.
Am I fucking up my own chances by putting up more boundaries? “With the exception of my position here, every time I’ve had that next big dream within my grasp, something out of my control has taken it from me. I don’t want to stand in my own way, but lines aren’t as clear-cut for me as they are for other members of the coaching staff.”
“If you don’t get Santiago’s job, will you leave us?”
My heart sinks at the question like not getting the job is a foregone conclusion, but I make myself look him straight in the eye while I shake my head. “The Fireballs have been—this has been my favorite experience of my life. And I’m not just saying that because I like all of the bling.”
That gets me a smile.
“I know coaching a single team for an entire career isn’t likely. I love working here. I’d like to stay as long as possible. But when we’re not a good match anymore, then—then I’ll find my next position, and I’ll wish this team the best. I don’t want that day to be today though.”
“We don’t want that day to be today either,” he says.
That’s a relief. And it reminds me— “I don’t normally drink as much as I did last night. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t imagine you generally have men bidding six figures for the opportunity to spend a few hours with you either.”
I open my mouth, then close it as I slide a look at Denise, who’s managing both her cell phone and the notebook now. I wonder if Lila’s getting a line-by-line update of this meeting.
Honestly? I hope so. I think she gets it. Probably even more than I do. She made some decisions that weren’t popular when she inherited the team and got a lot of shit for it. Firing the entire coaching staff. Retiring the mascot. Being involved when she didn’t know much at all about baseball.
Wonder how many people have apologized to her now that the team has won multiple championships and fills the ballpark to capacity nearly every game.
I’m guessing not many.
They likely give Tripp all of the credit.
“Sadie will be up in fifteen, Mr. Wilson,” Denise says.
“Thank you.” He rocks in his office chair and looks at me. “Speaking of last night, Addie, is there something about Duncan Lavoie that you’d tell a friend but don’t want to tell your boss?”
“That’s a very specific question.”
“I’d only ask it under specific circumstances.”
I straighten in my seat and push aside the confessions I’ve just made to my boss to focus on a much easier line of questioning. These, I can handle in my sleep. “There’s nothingyou need to be concerned with that will impact my performance on the baseball diamond.”
“That wasn’t my concern.”
“There’s nothing between me and Duncan Lavoie.”
He folds his arms and frowns at me.
It feels like being stared down by my oldest brother.
“Duncan’s not one of our athletes,” Tripp says. “No lines crossed here as far as I’m concerned if you two have any kind of history. What you do on your own time is your business. But last night was outside the realm of expected and normal. It wasn’t a problem, but it wasn’t normal. So let me reword my question—do you feel safe around him, or is there something you need help with on a personal level?”
“There’s nothing in my personal history with Duncan to cause concern.”
He lifts his brows again.
I realize I probably look ridiculous.
