Poor Milo sits in his locker stall, eyes wide and so fucking confused.
“This job and the years I’ve spent here brought my passion for the game back. I found a lot of myself again here. And I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to coach you all.”
Silence suffocates the typical rowdy clubhouse. Tension lines the wall. Confusion sits heavy on everyone’s expressions.
So much for me not being dramatic about this.
“So, uh... yeah.” I nod along. “Let’s go win a game!”
That does absolutely nothing to get the energy back in the room, but I wasn’t sure if I’d get a chance to talk to them all as a group again after tonight and I couldn’t risk not having the opportunity.
Thankfully a bit more fire ignites under the guys when they take the field for warmups, and that pregame focus really zeros in for everyone as the time ticks down closer to the first pitch.
Like a fool, I allow myself to hope for a dugout visit from Reese.
I wait for it. I long for it.
It never comes.Shenever comes.
And when I look up into her owner’s suite, needing just a glimpse of her, I find it empty. And it stays that way for the entire game.
42
Emmett
Well, I’m going out with a win, so that’s something, I guess.
I wasted as much time as I could. Held off as long as I could as I sat in my office. But now the players are gone, and the advisory board meeting is going to be starting any minute if it hasn’t already.
It’s not that I’m dreading this part. I’m not at all, actually. I know in my bones this is the right thing to do. That my motives are true. But these are my last few moments being the field manager for the Windy City Warriors and I want to soak in every second I can.
So yeah, I’m taking my time.
That time dwindles down as I ride the elevator to the top floor, and I take it all in on the long walk down to the conference room. I give Reese’s office door a long stare as I pass by it.
It’s not as if I’m never going to be back here. Reese will still own this team. Isaiah will still play here. Kai and Kennedy will still be on the staff. But this is the last time I will be.
As I near the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the conference room walls, I spot Scott already running his mouth about something.
Pompous in the way he leans back in his chair.
Smug in the way he smiles at Reese.
Reese.
Sitting at the head of the table, she’s dressed to the nines per usual, and not showing any signs of weakness as she listens tohim. Blonde hair is styled sharp to hit just below the line of her jaw, and she’s wearing heels that look severe enough that she could puncture Scott’s tiny little dick if she wanted.
Her expression, as she listens to him ramble on, is screaming that she wants to.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her since she showed me the pictures in the dugout yesterday morning. Just seeing her again, even through a glass partition, reenforces my resolve to do what I need to do.
I push open the door to the conference room, just as Scott says, “We’ll take a vote. All in favor of Reese stepping down as President of Baseball Operations, raise your hand.”
Scott’s hand flies up immediately.
“There’s no need for a vote,” I cut in, letting the door close behind me. “It won’t matter. I quit.”
Silence stalls the rest of the group from voting before chaos ensues in the conference room.
