“How’s the team looking this year?” I ask, desperate to change the somber mood we’ve gotten ourselves in.
“Good.”
I release a loud groan because by his one-word response, I know he’s pissed about something. “Are you still fighting with that other pitcher?”
“He doesn’t take charge the way he should as the Ace. He lets people influence him too much. Plus, the guy is old.Heshould be the person retiring. That way I can take the ace position.”
“The…what?” While I grew up attending every one of Ian’s games, as my sport got more demanding, I’ve had less time to pay attention to the game he plays. While I understand it, I couldn’t tell you a single person’s name on that team, or any of the teams. Since he signed with the Detroit Panthers, the few games I’ve actually been able to attend were the ones he was pitching in.
“It means I would be at the top of the pitching line-up.”
“Ian, I hate to break it to you, but wouldn’t you need to be a team player to be a leader?” I say bluntly, never too shy to let my brother know when he’s in the wrong.
“You don’t play a team sport. You don’t get it,” he says dismissively.
“I’m just saying, maybe it’s time to try to bond with your team. You never talk about hanging out with any of your teammates or funny moments at practice. None of that.”
“Neither do you,” he fires back, raising a single brow.
I shake my head, but a tiny laugh escapes me. “I don’t play ateamsport, remember?”
Talking shit and teasing one another is something we’ve done since we were little, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. While he might be a pain in my ass, I’m grateful to have someone as loyal as him in my corner.
I’ve been alone for two weeks as I’ve been grieving my previous life. And truthfully, there’s a part of me that was scared to see him because he doesn’t know what actually happened, and I worried he’d be disappointed in me retiring. But we do our best not to miss our monthly hangouts, and it ended up being exactly what I needed.
Knowing now without a doubt that he’ll always have my back makes me feel a bit lighter than I did before.
And it gives me hope that maybe things will be okay.
Chapter 2
Quentin
“Mais c’est pas possible,” I groan as I roll over in bed, the sound of someone mowing their lawn waking me up much earlier than I’d like on my day off.
I prop myself up in my bed to look at the time when a dull pain spreads in my shoulder. It’s already been six months since the accident. I was in the passenger seat next to Ryker, my brother-in-law, when another car t-boned us in a parking lot before he could do anything about it. While I have been cleared to play and I’m the healthiest thirty-six-year-old that anyone’s probably ever seen, my shoulder’s required more recovery time than before.
In baseball years as I like to call it, because most careers don’t have an average retirement age of thirty, I’m heading to the downward end of my career. I should’ve been on this path sooner, but even at thirty, I was at my peak and continued to show my skills past that without decline.
But I fear that might not be the case much longer.
Something my agent is adamant about reminding me of every time we talk. Especially since my contract is up once this season ends.
My phone rings from my bedside table, and I sigh as I stretch across my bed to grab it. As if I manifested him into reality, my agent’s face fills the screen, so I let out a quiet sigh and answer it.
“What could you possibly need from me at nine in the morning on a Saturday?” I grumble.
“Great game last night, Q. It’s a great start to the season and I need you to keep that up if we’re going to secure another contract from the Panthers,” he speaks a mile a minute, always right down to business.
“I’ve been doing exactly that,” I reply dryly.
Normally, I’d care more about contract renewals and what comes next, but the truth is that I’m getting tired. I have no idea what my life will look like without baseball, but all I know is that I want to take myself out of the game before my shoulder does. Retirement might be something I need to consider. And that thought terrifies me.
“I know you are. You’re the best pitcher in the league, and we’re going to use your stats this year to bargain with them. That’s why I called, just to tell you to keep it up. We’ve got an entire season to go, so don’t let up now. You know that Kelly is vying for your ace position.”
A sense of irritation snakes down my spine at the mention of my rival teammate, but I push it down before I reply with, “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“All right, I got another client to check in on. Q, enjoy your day off,” he says hurriedly, rushing off to the next thing on his to-do list
