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He’s on the mound and he’s pitching a beautiful game.
And then the dugout phone rings.
I hold my breath as Roger picks up the receiver, never saying a word. When he hangs up, he picks up the bullpen phone, calling for a reliever to warm up, and my stomach plummets to my toes. Roger signals to the base coaches, to Nico, and to the ump. And as he climbs the dugout steps and jogs to the mound, tears spring to my eyes.
Roger signals to center field and Luca jogs in. Roger shakes his hand, and Luca comes back into the dugout, shaking hands and offering hugs. When his arms wrap tightly around me, he presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Thanks for everything, Coach.”
I watch as Luca walks slowly down the tunnel toward the clubhouse. If there was anyone on this team I thought would be safe today, I would have told you it was Luca. He hasn’t been named in any rumors until now, and the dugout is reeling as his replacement takes the field. And then Max comes off the mound and my heart stops. A reliever jogs in from the bullpen as Max slowly descends the stairs into the dugout.
I watch as he embraces Nico and shakes hands with his infielders, and that’s the moment I know that everything is changing. He comes down the steps at the opposite end of the dugout – shaking hands and offering hugs – and when his eyes meet mine, I turn and bolt down the tunnel, making my way to the clubhouse.
“Davis,” I hear Max breathe my name behind me, feeling his warmth at my back. “It’s going to be okay.”
I whirl on him.
“We just figured us out Max! It’s the middle of the season and you’re being sent halfway across the country, and it’s not like I can go with you. What are we supposed to do?!” My voice breaks, and tears start to fall. “After everything you’ve given to this team…you deserve better than this, Max.”
“Is that what you’re upset about? That I’m being used as trade bait for a younger arm?”
“That’s certainly part of it.”
Max closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me, drawing me into his solid chest. His solid,sweatychest. But I’m too worked up to care about any of that right now.
“I’m not thrilled about this long distance thing either, but we’ll be in the same city again soon. We can video chat….”
“You’re not making this any easier,” I hate how pitiful and small my voice sounds.
“You want me to throw something?” He asks with a chuckle.
“No. I want you to kiss me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.”
Max’s callused hand sweeps behind my neck as he bends to press a kiss to my lips. I’m thankful for the relative privacy of the clubhouse but know we don’t have long until he’s expectedupstairs in the office. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s all going to be okay. I love you.”
Max stalks off toward the showers, and I have to get back up to the dugout, I have a responsibility to the team. The hitting coach can’t just abandon the entire squad because her boyfriend got traded. Climbing the steps to the dugout, I adjust my cap and make sure my tears are gone. I grab my tablet and find the next guy who should be up to bat, and we look at reports while my blood boils in my veins, knowing that when I go back down to the clubhouse at the end of this game, Max won’t be there.
The morale of the dugout is the lowest I’ve seen in a while. Everyone is reeling from Max and Luca’s departure. I do my best to maintain a cool, detached, facade, but there’s only so much I can do with anger simmering beneath the surface. We lose in spectacular fashion; the relievers come in and destroy the lead we had while Max was on the mound, and our hitters, despite their best efforts, fall flat.
After the game, I sit on the bench in the dugout, watching as the grounds crew takes the field and starts to remove the bases and rake the dirt, my mind swirling as emotions punch to the surface; I resist the urge to hang my head and cry, knowing that my tears won’t do me any good.
The sound of spikes in the tunnel steals my attention from the field and I look over to find Nico approaching, a folded piece of paper in his hand. Taking it from his outstretched hand, I ignore the stab in my chest as he tips his chin and nods before walking back down to the clubhouse. I open the paper to find Max’s scrawling handwriting and a short message:
Head held high.
Fearless.
And I finally let my tears fall.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Relocation
MAX
I’ve always saidI wanted to go out on my own terms. I always hoped that meant my career would end in Seattle, and I guess in some ways, it is. I have a few hours before Luca and I are due on a flight bound for Detroit – there’s a tiny bit of irony in the fact that I’ve been traded to the team Sutton grew up cheering for – but for now, I’m headed home to grab my bag and tell my sister goodbye.
“Hey, Max,” Luca catches up with me outside the stadium as I’m walking toward the ferry terminal. “Do you mind if I come with you? My agent gave me a heads up last night, and I don’t have anyone here to say goodbye to. I…kind of don’t want to be alone right now.”
