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I’m about to answer, but my phone rings. My heart practically stops when Coach Callahan’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, standing taller.
“I heard you’re having a hell of summer.” Coach Callahan’s dry tone doesn’t ease my nerves.
“You can say that.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you off the team and pull the scholarship for the stunt you pulled.”
“Sir, I have no excuse. Cassie and I have a history.” I’m not delving into what our history entails. It’s not his business. It’s not anyone’s business but ours.
Silence eats up the phone, and I want to run into the ocean and let the waves carry me away with my chances of staying on the team.
“Consider this your second chance. We’ve decided to suspend you for the first game.”
“You’re allowing me back on the team?”
Marty gives me a side glance. Blood rushes in my ears. I don’t know if I heard him right.
“As far as I’m concerned, you never left. You’re one hell of a player, but attitude is everything. We’re used to dealing with overinflated egos, but we don’t like bad sportsmanship. We’re a unit. Family. We play together. That’s the lesson you were supposed to learn while staying at Greenburg’s house.”
I wince. I was a team player, all right, but that was for team Cassie and me.
“And that’s what Coach Greenburg said you learned when he told me I’d be a fool not to take you back.”
“He said that?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Nolan’s not your number one fan, but he said you’re one heck of a baseball player, and any team would be lucky to have you. That I already knew.”
My heart expands at the compliment. “Thanks, Coach.”
“I expect you to report for weight training in August.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”
A weight lifts from my shoulders as we hang up, but the relief that should follow it isn’t there. I don’t feel any better. I’m getting everything I want. Why don’t I feel better?
“You’re still on the team?” Marty’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck for that.” He studies me for a beat, no doubt wondering why I’m not elated. But considering our previous discussion, I’m sure he already knows. I miss Cassie. I love her, and I won’t be happy unless we’re together. Jesus, I’ve messed this up.
I take off walking toward the truck.
“Where are we going?”
I spin the ring around my finger, each step with determination.
“The pawnshop.”
“Wait, what? You need money?”
“Yep.’
“What the hell for?”
“A plane ticket.”
