Fiona: Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I frowned. Something didn’t sit right. I couldn’t place it. I stared at the calendar and racked my brain for what was bothering me. What was off? I couldn’t figure it out and spent the next two hours answering emails. My agent’s message caught my attention. I called him.
“Billy, how’s it going?”
“Good, my guy. How’s the leg?” His cheery tone pleased me. He at least still liked me.God, get a grip. He makes bank from me.
“Better. I jogged for thirty minutes this morning. I feel like an old fuck, but I can use it. Resistance bands start next week,” I replied with dread. I did not want the bands. “I saw your email—”
“Good. I’m assuming you’re willing to get involved more? Christmas shopping for some kids, a food drive for some shelters, and…well, would you allow cameras at your practice? I would hate to miss an opportunity to get you doing something good on camera.”
“No.” I snapped the pen into two pieces in my hand. “No. Not that.”
“Alrighty then. No to that.” He let out a nervous chuckle and continued, “The media didn’t paint a pretty picture of you and I’m trying to clean it up.”
“I didn’t cuss out an old lady or anything. Nor did I do drugs or get caught in a sex scandal.”
But I did fuck Fiona without locking the door last night. Last night, our torturous game of give and take…the questions.My brain hurt piecing it together and Billy interrupted my thoughts.
“I know, man. It’s not fair. Listen, have you reached out to the guys?”
My stomach sank. “No.”
“Give them a call. Go somewhere public. Hell, go to a bar down by the stadium. It couldn’t hurt. Post a picture or something.”
Great advice, Billy. Why do I pay you again?I held my comments in and coughed. “Sure. I’ll reach out even though no one on the team reached out to me.”
And that was the final piece. The straw that broke the camel’s back. They didn’t have my back, and I didn’t reciprocate.
“I get it, man. But I think we’d both agree if you reached out and hooked up with a charity it would improve your image. Small steps, then the season will be here again.”
“Charity!” I shouted and tuned out his ramblings. “Yes. That’s it,” I cheered as it came back.Today is the anniversary of Justin’s death. That’s why she’s upset.“Look, I gotta run. Sign me up for whatever you think, but no fucking cameras on the field. Deal?”
“Sure, man.”
I hung up and hopped into the shower. Fiona acted tough but the small pieces I’d learned about her told me the truth. Justin had meant a lot to her—more than people had realized. Her tortured expression when I found out about the journal…the sadness that radiated off her. Yeah. She was probably a mess.
Just like when Cheryl and I get together on the anniversary of the accident.I sighed. I wanted to do something to help her, but I had no idea what.
Gideon: I know what today is. Dinner?
Fiona: Nah.
Gideon: Can I help in any way?
Fiona: No. Even your body can’t distract me today.
She always made it about sex. For once, it was the furthest thing from my mind.
Gideon: Well, if you need me, let me know. I’m sorry.
Fiona: Thanks.
Well, there went my attempt.Reach out to the guys…Who even lives in town?Most of the team lived elsewhere and came back once spring training started. I didn’t do this friendship-bonding stuff. My profile wasn’t that complicated—sometimes I was a dick, sometimes I wasn’t. I guess this was one of thenottimes.
I focused on baseball and my sister. That was it. I didn’t need the extra bullshit of relationships. They added stress and drama.Look how far that got me.“Shit.”
I scrolled through my phone and found Tate’s number. Tate Monaghan, MVP in the National League a decade ago. Great clubhouse guy yet a real pain in the ass who was losing speed on the field. Did I want to reach out? No. But I had nothing to fucking do for twenty-four hours and I didn’t know how to occupy my time. Yeah—I was bored. That was why I asked him to meet at a swanky bar downtown. It had nothing to do with guilt thatmaybeI’d acted out, yelling at him all those weeks ago.
