Mike finally cracks a smile, gesturing at me. “Lead the way, son.”
For a moment, I stare at him as the nickname works its way into my brain. It’s been a long time since someone has called me son. Hell, the last time was probably when Mike sat me down and told me my arm would never be the same.
We leave the upscale lounge and walk down the street to the dive bar on the corner he mentioned. It’s an old haunt I used tovisit regularly, but I haven’t stepped inside in years—since my world fell apart.
“Now this is more like it. Why didn’t we meet here to begin with?” Mike asks, settling on a barstool at the worn counter. The bartender comes over and tosses down two flimsy square coasters with the bar logo on them onto the epoxy top. The myriad of beer caps underneath the shiny, clear coating takes me back to the memory of trying every beer represented.
“Over there is where I officially met Taylor for the first time,” I say pointing to the far end of the bar. The image of her sitting on a stool with her brother, a white T-shirt that had no business looking sexy on her slender frame and a black New York baseball hat over her mess of blonde curls assaults me. “She was laughing at whatever Josh said. Her brown eyes sparkling with mischief as they met mine across the room. She took my breath away the same way she did when I saw her sitting behind the plate at the game earlier that night. Josh was an old friend of mine and was in town visiting his little sister who had recently graduated from New York University.
“There,” I say, pointing to the dartboard in the back corner, “she used to hustle me at darts.” I laugh, shaking my head at the memory. She challenged me to a round that night and I was so sure I would win that I bet her I’d get a tattoo. I never got one when we were together, but I did get one after. “She wiped the floor with me the first night and the rest was history. This became our spot. I haven’t been back since. It hurt too much.”
Mike claps a hand down on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “The memories only hurt because it was real.”
“I know that.” I look over at my old coach and mentor and spill the whole sorted tale. “My parents had an expectation of who should marry into the Davenport world. An ambitious younger woman didn’t fit the narrative they wanted, especially not one I’d only known for a few months before we got married. To make matters worse, we didn’t have a prenup, so my stake in their precious empire was on the table, hence why I was cut off.If I didn't have access to the money, then she didn’t either. They wanted me to annul my marriage to Taylor as soon as we got back from Long Caye. I refused. She was it for me. I knew it the first moment I saw her.”
I almost balked when my eyes caught hers behind the plate. I completely forgot where I was, what I was doing, and how to move my body, which had never happened to me before. By the time I recovered and delivered the next pitch, I gave her a grin as the batter walked back to the dugout. Her brown eyes widened but she shot me a saucy smirk right back and I was a goner. I pitched the best damn game of my life, and when I walked into the bar later, I knew I’d never be the same.
I sigh, picking up one of the flimsy coasters and picking at as I continue. “But they didn’t let up. Taylor insisted on a post nuptial arrangement, hoping it would prove she wanted nothing to do with my money or theirs. It helped for a short time, but when I was injured, the frays in our relationship started to show. My parents latched onto that as more ammunition that she was only with me because I was playing professionally. I knew the truth. She was working her way up at the PR firm. That girl was going places with or without me. When she left me, I wasn’t surprised. Who wants to be part of a family that doesn’t want you? Neither one of us put in the effort needed to make our marriage successful. We loved each other, yes, but I was too focused on rehabbing and making a comeback to give our marriage the attention it deserved. She left New York to take a promotion in LA and that was that.”
“So to spite your parents, you built your own empire?”
“I’m petty like that.” I smirk at him before taking a long drink of my beer. “You were right about the team though. Baseball was my first love. I’ll never get over the feeling of stepping on that mound and feeling the laces of the ball in my hand.”
“You were a beast on the mound too. I remember watching you pitch the first time in Triple A. You were always destined for greatness. You had it too. Maybe not for as long as you wantedor in the way you wished for, but you were great, Grant. One of the best there was.”
Hearing that from someone I respect, a true legend of the game, has emotion clogging my throat. The memory of all I’ve lost is almost too much to bear. “Thanks, Coach.”
“But son, at some point you have to stop running from it and face it. You have the chance to use that greatness and build a lasting legacy in Nashville. You can’t do that from here. You need cleats in the dirt, front and center. I like Ben, he’s a great guy, but he’s not strong enough to lead that team on his own.”
“That’s why I need you.” I tell him honestly.
“I know I’m good, but I’m just a coach. I don’t want to be involved in all that office politics bullshit or deal with the league directly.”
“What are you saying?”
“I could see myself leaving Tampa in the rearview for the right opportunity.” I open my mouth to speak, ready to close this deal, but he holds his hand up to stop me. “But, I have some conditions first.'“
“Let’s hear ‘em.” I flag down the bartender for another round. He doesn’t know it, but I’ll give him anything he asks for if he agrees to take over at the end of the season.
“You move to Nashville.”
Except I wasn’t expectingthatto be a condition.
“Mike.” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice. I was prepared to barter all night, but he’s thrown a curve ball I’m not sure how to handle. He was right earlier when he said I wouldn’t do what should be done. I’ve known for a while that keeping the team at arm’s length wasn’t doing anyone any favors, but something always held me back when it came to leaving New York.
“Think of it as exposure therapy. I won’t coach for an absent owner. You want me to lead the team, then I’ll come coach for you in Nashville, but you need to be all in with me.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Anything else?” I ask as though he hasn’t already thrown down the gauntlet.
“Yes, it’s time to get your head out of your ass and get your wife back.” He says that like it’s as easy as picking up the grocery order. “Those are my terms. You take on a more active role and set up shop in Nashville. I know you have one of those fancy hotels in the city. And you find a way to stop avoiding it. There’s a reason you didn’t give her a divorce, Grant. If you want her, you have to fight for her.”
He's not holding back and it feels like a sucker punch to the gut. I do want her. I’ve always wanted her but . . . “I don’t even know where to start.” I confess, the weight of the words leaving my body feels like I’ve pitched a game.
“Sure you do.”
Putting words to my deepest fear, I ask, “What if she doesn’t want me?”
“That’s a good possibility, but you’re only going to know the answer to that if you try. I know she called you last year to get Ivory a place to stay in Belize. No one else knows about your relationship, but I happen to be privy to certain information from your past that she hasn’t shared with the others. That girl may have everyone fooled into believing she’s happy being on the go all the time, but I’d bet my last dollar she’s just looking for a place to land. And the only place she wants to land, or feels safe enough to land, is with you.”
