Page 93 of Verdict

“I know.”

“But you also can’t make it pretending she doesn’t matter.”

Silence settled between us again.

A group of guys at another table erupted into laughter. A dog barked somewhere near the food trucks. Life kept moving around us like my world wasn’t tilting on its axis.

“I keep thinking about Ellie,” I said finally. “This sets her up. College, investments, everything.”

Drake gave me a pointed look. “She’s already set up. You’ve been smart. This just makes the number bigger.”

I knew that. But bigger felt safer, more insulated. It was insurance against the kind of loss I’d grown up with.

Drake’s voice softened. “Are you trying to protect Ellie’s future… or protect yourself from regret… from another loss?”

That landed square in my chest.

Because the truth? I was terrified that years from now, after retirement, I’d be left wondering if I’d left something on the table when it came to my career. But I was just as terrified of realizing I’d walked away from something that mattered more.

A family.

Drake pushed his empty glass aside. “You want my advice?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sign somewhere because you’re afraid to stay. And don’t stay somewhere because you’re afraid to leave.” He held my gaze. “Choose the life you actually want to live. Not the one that looks best on paper.”

The life I actually want.

I huffed a laugh. "That literally told me nothing."

"You know what they say about tough decisions, buddy." Drake stood, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You won't know whether your choice is right or wrong until you make it. It’s time you make your decision, Coh." He headed toward the bar to grab another round, leaving me alone under the oak tree.

I stared out at the skyline, barely visible beyond the brewery fence.

Boston looked powerful, Austin felt personal.

Five years was everything… five years was also nothing. The decision in front of me wasn’t just about baseball. It was about who I wanted to be when the game was over.

Chapter 26

Ava

My head was buried in our second baseman’s contract when my office door swung open. Lane crossed the room in a few long strides, his expression tight.

"Ava, put Damon's contract on hold. Boston made Jordan an offer, and I need you to draft a counteroffer. He has to make a decision in a week, but I'd like to have a term sheet by end of day." He slid two pieces of paper across my desk before heading back out the door.

I stayed motionless, staring at the papers for a solid five minutes before I gathered the nerve to actually read them. Dread sat heavy in my stomach. I didn’t need to see the numbers to know we couldn’t fully match it. We were rebuilding the pitching staff. And this was Boston; they had deep pockets.

With shaky hands, I lifted the first paper. Boston's offer.

Fuck me.

Five years. One hundred and thirty-five million. Full no-trade clause. He would be crazy not to take it. Next, I looked at the offer Duke and our GM wanted to counter with. Four years. One hundred and twelve million. Full no-trade clause, player option in year four. It was less total money, less time… Boston wanted him longer. But the Aviators were giving him more autonomy. A higher annual value, a full no-trade, a player option in year four, plus a signing bonus and performance incentives.

I blew out a steadying breath. It was a strong counter, but it still might not be enough for him.

I might not be enough for him.