“What happened to you is shitty, and I’m sorry. But whatever comes, you’re family to me. You understand me?” he presses.
I nod. “Thanks.”
“Okay, enough of that. The league signed off on a schedule for you this week. Today you’re meeting with me and Mike Perry,” he says, naming the general manager. “You’re free to do some workouts and see what the trainers say. You’ll need to clear out by noon. Tomorrow, we’ve got you set up with your strength coach. Later in the week is more with trainers, the PR director, and easing into full workouts. On Monday, we’ll check Ross’s readiness to return to the mound, and you’ll see some pitches off him to see where you’re at. We’ll be on the road, so we’ve got some minor leaguers stepping up for practice. Tuesday and Wednesday, we’ll assess whether you’re ready. We don’t play Thursday, but I expect you’ll be officially reactivated for your first game on Friday, pending everything I just mentioned. Any questions?”
I shake my head. It’s a lot, but it’s everything I’ve been waiting for since the moment I left town, knowing I’d miss part of this season.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“I never stopped being ready,” I murmur.
He nods. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
He leaves, and I head to the training room to talk with the trainers about where I’m at and what I need to do to be ready to play next Friday.
I meet with the general manager. Everyone here at the organization seems to know what happened and why Iwas suspended, and nobody seems to blamemefor any of it. It could have been a huge hit to my reputation, but the fact is that my father played on my emotions and manipulated a signature out of me. It’s horseshit, and if I never talk to him again, that’s just fine by me.
I’ve got my family here at the Heat, and maybe that’s all I need since every other person in my life continues to prove just how low they’re willing to go.
CHAPTER 45: Millie Monroe
Too Important to Pass Up
When we return from breakfast, I fully chicken out on the phone call.
I don’t know what time to call. I checked the schedule, and he has a game today. What if I call when he’s getting ready for game time and interrupt him? What if he’s with Archer? What if he’s in the zone and my call takes him out of it?
Those are excuses, and I realize that.
Still, I can’t do it, so I take the coward’s way out and email him back instead of calling. I read over my email draft no less than thirty-seven times, and I have Chip and Jackie here for input, too.
I read it through one last time.
Hi Cooper,
I wasn’t sure of a good time to call you since it’s game day, so I opted to reply here. Thank you for getting in touch. I’m thrilled that you reached out. I’m miserable, too, but I’m not as stubborn asArcher, and I’m willing to do what it takes to fix this. We belong together, and it would mean the world to me if you could help me figure out how to help him see that, too.
Good luck at today’s game!
Millie Monroe
“Send it?” I ask.
“Send it,” they say at the same time. They’re both pretending like they’re not totally fed up with reading it with me a million times, and they really are very kind friends.
I add my phone number at the bottom, and I click the button to send it through the interwebs. And then I slam my laptop lid closed like it’ll start a fire if I don’t.
Chip and Jackie both laugh at me, but I stare at the thing like it’s a ticking time bomb.
Because it is now.
I’ll refresh my email constantly like a freaking psychopath until I get a reply, which may not come today or tomorrow. He’s a busy guy. They’re at home the next three nights, and then they’re in California for three nights. Then they have a night off, and according to ESPN, which I watch like a fiend for any possible glimpse of Archer Bradley, his first game back is supposed to be Friday.
I’ve barely blown out the sigh of relief I feel that I sent that email off when my phone starts to ring.
And the name flashing across the screen?
Cooper Noah.
