Page 73

September

I paced nervously as I waited to be called into the studio for my interview. The local broadcast team had been doing profile interviews with all the members of the Vanquish, airing one each afternoon before the game. The improbable run Vancouver was on had led to massive ratings for the network, and everyone in the city—hell, the whole country—wanted to know more about the players who had come together to make a run for the playoffs after being down as much as sixteen games at the beginning of the season.

Because I was still well known from my time in Seattle, they had wanted to do my interview at the beginning of the series, but I’d requested to delay it. Now I was ready. This announcement had taken far longer than I’d wanted, but agreements had been reached, contracts had been signed. I had a plan to get Jane back. I would convince her I was committed to her, that I wanted us to build a life together. I only hoped she still cared for me.

She hadn’t responded to any of my messages, but I knew she read them. I also knew from talking to Ethan that she missed me. I had clung to that as I made my plans. We would record the interview this morning, and it would air later today. I pulled out my phone and typed.

Please watch the pregame show today. It’s important.

Julio came up to me and slapped me across the back. “Don’t be nervous. You’re doing the right thing. She’ll know how much you love her after this.”

As I’d put my plan together to win Jane back, I’d talked it over a lot with Julio and Raine. Raine was also missing a woman from Red Rock, although he would never tell me who it was. Julio and Anna set an example of what was possible, and I wanted what they had.

“I hope she does. I know I’m doing the right thing. I’m happy with my decision. If it isn’t enough for Jane, I’m confident it’s still the right thing for me.” The sense of peace that I had felt since I had my first conversation with our manager back in Washington had only grown stronger over the past two months.

The studio doors opened and our sideline reporter, Jenna Miles, called me in. “Hey, Carter, thanks for agreeing to participate. These player profiles have been very popular. Let’s do this.”

I followed Jenna over to the two stools that sat under the lights. Technicians got me miked up, and once the sound was tested, we were ready to roll.

“Today we welcome Carter Cook to our studio,” Jenna began, smiling into the camera. “Carter, people have been emailing the network and posting on social media about how much they wanted to hear from you. I’d like to start almost three years ago, the night Seattle won the league championship. I think by now everyone remembers hearing about your accident.”

Jenna had warned me she wanted to open with my accident. I had agreed because I wanted something from her in return.

“I don’t remember much of that night. The doctors tell me that’s not unusual. I’ve seen the game, and the accident photos. I was driving home, it was raining, and I got hit by a freight truck that lost control. My car was destroyed, practically crushed. They had to use the jaws of life to cut me out before they took me to the hospital.”

Jenna leaned forward, making the interview feel more intimate. “Your injuries were severe. You didn’t play baseball for two full seasons. Tell us about that.”

It might have been three years since the accident, but I would never forget the pain. Even worse was the fear—that I’d never play again, that I might never walk again. I’d spent months angry and afraid. I rubbed my hands on my thighs, soothing the remembered fear. I’d made it. I’d beaten all the predictions, and I was here, on a team that might even make the playoffs. That was the story people wanted to hear. The comeback.

“I was a mess. Broken legs, broken arm. Internal bleeding. I was torn up from all the shattered glass. The doctors thought I might have spinal cord damage. It took a lot of surgeries to repair all the bones, then months in traction to let them heal. Another year to learn to walk again, then more time to get back into the physical condition necessary to compete at the highest levels. It was not an easy road.”

Jenna’s eyes had gone wide as I described my recovery. She was a great actress, because she knew all of this, had talked it over with me several times over the past two months. As the Vancouver team had continued winning, my return to baseball had grown into a hot topic with the sports media.

“Your recovery is an incredible story. How did you wind up with Vancouver?”

“Seattle bought out my contract when it looked like I would never play again. I wasn’t ready to turn in my glove. I wanted to prove I could still play in the majors. I didn’t get invited to spring training with anyone, but I refused to give up. I connected with a friend who coaches college ball, worked out with him and his team. Sent videos to every single team and waited. Vancouver decided to give me a chance.” I didn’t have to fake a smile when I said that. I was still grateful the team gave me a shot.

“I want to talk about what’s going on with this team. Vancouver has become a real Cinderella story: a ragtag group of players who some say shouldn’t even be in the majors, coming back from last place to now be fighting for a playoff berth. You started the season in Triple-A and were called up when there were some huge roster changes during the All-Star break. What happened?”

Jenna’s question seemed so innocent and harmless, but it was a trap. I chose my words carefully as I tried to answer truthfully.

“I can’t speak about what happened before I was called up. I wasn’t here to experience it firsthand. When I was called up, I got here and found a club committed to being better. It took us a few games to learn to play as a team. When we did, it was magic. Every day at the ballpark was a good day. If someone was struggling, someone else picked up the slack, and we all encouraged each other. We became a team, playing for each other and not our own personal records or statistics.”

I was proud of our team. The young players had really bonded with each other, and we had learned to trust each other. There was no petty bickering, no backstabbing. Disagreements were talked out and resolved rather than left to fester. Atmospherically, it was the best club I had ever played on.

“The team is on the ride of a lifetime. You’ve pulled into second place in the division, and are tied with New York for the last wild card spot. How is everyone handling the pressure?”

I leaned forward, trying to engage her and, through her, the audience. I wanted people to understand how much we appreciated their support, no matter what happened in the end.

“There’s still a lot of baseball left to play. It’s exciting that we’re so close to the postseason, but there are six other teams all trying to win a wild card spot, and there are only two spots. As for the pressure, it’s funny. The fans have been so supportive. We were never supposed to be here. An expansion team in their first season, that had a major personnel change midyear? We should be dead last in the division, if not the entire league. None of the players are letting the pressure get to them. We are all just enjoying the ride. You called it a Cinderella story, and I would have to agree.”

“Your own contributions to the team have been talked about by some of the other players. You’re putting up solid numbers at the plate, but it’s the behind-the-scenes impact they all talk about. What a supportive mentor you’ve been, how much you’ve helped them on and off the field. How does it make you feel when you hear things like that?”

My cheeks heated. Even though I was a senior member of the team, at least in age, it was still hard to accept that thanks to Julio, I was seen as a true leader in the clubhouse. He involved me in planning all the club’s team-building exercises. It was his team.

“Honoured. Humbled. I can’t take all the credit. Julio is the best team captain, a true leader. It was easy to follow his lead. These guys go out and play hard every day, and anything I can do to help them is my honour. I know I’m the old man in the clubhouse, and I couldn’t be happier sharing my experiences with these guys. Which leads me to the other thing I wanted to share tonight.”

I paused, building the suspense. I’d told Jenna I had a surprise announcement, but she had no idea what was coming.