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“I think so,” I say. I try for a smile, although my face doesn’t want to cooperate. “Pretty good, I guess.”
“He’s being modest,” Andy says. He reaches over and claps me on the shoulder. “With these numbers, not to mention your pedigree—seems like all anyone can talk about is how much you remind them of your old man, which is good, you need to milk it—I see no issue with it pushing you up into the top five by draft day. The slot value at the fifth pick, for example, is just over six mil.”
“Damn,” Cooper says with a whistle. “That’s sweet.”
Andy keeps going, talking about how much wiggle room I’ll want to give teams when they call me. I try to pay attention, but honestly, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the specifics. The server stops by with our food, but my omelet doesn’t seem appealing anymore. I push the potatoes around my plate, listening to Richard ask Andy questions. My muscles tense.
It's not just nerves. There’s something deeper there, scratching beneath the surface. This should be an exciting moment. Who doesn’t want to talk about signing a contract worth millions to play a sport for a living?
“Excuse me,” I say. “I—I need a moment.”
36
SEBASTIAN
I give Cooper a shove.He slides out of the booth so I can escape.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, glancing at Richard.
I nod. “Yeah. I just need a second.”
I wind my way through the restaurant, side-stepping our server and a woman with a little dog in her purse. Out on the sidewalk, I lean against the building and take a deep breath.
It’s not the talk of the money, or the prospect of the work ahead. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but something is making my insides twist like they’re caught in a vise. I sink into a crouch, fisting my hands together and pressing them to my mouth. If it was just baseball, just swinging the bat and making plays, it would be so different. But you can’t have one without the other, without all this shit about contracts and comparisons and stat lines and endorsements, and sooner or later, I’m going to need to come to terms with that. It’s a game, but it’s also a business, and once I sign a contract, I’m agreeing to become an employee, not just an athlete.
It’s not fear. I shut my eyes, internally checking my gut. I’m not afraid of being unable to perform my future job well; I know I can handle the level of competition. It’s this deep, dragging anxiety that won’t leave me the fuck alone. A part of me, increasingly loud, that wants to sayno thank you.
I laugh shortly. What would the Andys of the world say to that? What would Richard say? Or James and Cooper, for that matter? Our respective sports have always bound us together, and if I walked away from that, it would be like Andy insinuated. The two of them, Richard’s true sons, and then me.
Mia has a meeting with Alice this morning—right now, exactly, if I remember the time correctly—but I can’t help texting her. I type out a mini essay, a rambling run-on of a sentence, then delete it all. I’m not ready for this conversation with anyone, not even her. I delete it all and just ask how she’s doing. When it delivers, I stare at my phone, waiting for those three little dots.
“Sebastian?”
I look up at Richard. He’s frowning at me as he shields his eyes from the sun, his watch glinting in the light. “Son, what’s the matter?”
I shove my phone into my pocket and stand. I brush down my shirt and adjust my collar. “I’m sorry, sir.”
His frown deepens as he clasps my shoulder, his hand squeezing tightly. “Sorry for what?”
“Leaving, I guess.” I bite my lip. “I know it was rude.”
“Do you feel okay?” He presses the back of his hand to my forehead. I blink rapidly; the touch makes my eyes burn. “Are you coming down with something?”
I shake my head, leaning away. “No. It’s just… it’s a lot.”
“Is this about whatever’s going on with you and Cooper?”
I feel bad throwing Cooper under the bus, but it’s easier to talk about that than the jumbled thoughts running through my mind whenever I think about baseball, so I nod. “It’s been this whole thing with Mia.”
Richard sighs deeply.
“I suppose I’ve been lucky with you two,” he says. “Same age, and you became friends, not adversaries. I see so much of myself in Cooper, and so much of Jacob in you. Jake and I had our fair share of scuffles, you know.”
“Yeah?”
He laughs softly at some far-off memory. “I miss him.”
It takes me a moment to reply. “I miss him too.”
