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“I didn’t plan on it. But there will be consequences. Between the dirty pitch that nearly took Mac’s head off and the bench clearing, I’m guessing a suspension will be the least you’re facing.”
“Okay.” I expected as much.
“Get your ass out of here.” Dundee stands, shoving the chair back with a frustrated kick.
“Coach.” I take a second before looking to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I should’ve let you deck the bastard.” Dundee doesn’t like Cash any more than I do. It’s one of the reasons we clicked right away and the reason I’d shared the truth with him. I’d needed him to understand what this team and all the baggage that comes with it means to me. Not that it had done any good.
I head to my locker and quickly change, hearing the game back in progress. I need to find Avery. One way or another, I need to see her. I’m about to leave when I hear Brooks call my name. “I need to speak with you.”
“Not now.” I hate brushing him off, but I need to get to Avery.
“She wasn’t in on it.”
I stop at his words. How would he know anything about what’s going on in my mind? And also, what the hell is he doing in the clubhouse and not on the field?
“Cash knew he could use her to push your buttons. He’s been keeping tabs on you.” Brooks pauses then drops the news that I never saw coming. “Cash had me keeping tabs on you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” My anger increases with each word, but confusion is the only thing I can express as I look to my teammate.
“Why else would a rookie get such a good deal? He placed me here with the condition of keeping tabs on you… and I have a feeling he’s just getting started.”
I surge forward, grab his jersey, and slam him against the wall. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to play. But once I figured out that he wasn’t just being a supportive dad who wanted to reconnect with his son, I backed out. He pushed me for information on Avery, and when I wouldn’t provide what he wanted, he had me benched. Cash might not play for this team, but he still pulls the strings.”
No. He can’t mean what I think he’s getting at.
“Think about it. Why else would a team take a chance on a guy who just had surgery, not knowing how successful it was or how well you’d recover unless someone wanted you here?”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this shit. None of it is worth it and we have no control.”
My finger releases the fabric of his jersey, the same fabric I just removed from my back. And the only reason we’re both wearing it is because of my father’s doing? Brooks is telling me Cash had the team give me a contract?
Instead of heading out of the stadium, I head for the dugout. Dundee spots me and steps out of sight of the crowd, leading me back into the tunnel. “Lowe, you can’t—”
“Is it true?”
He gives me a confused look before recognition dawns on his face. “Carter.”
“I was only signed because of him? And you knew about it?”
Dundee takes a few steps, stopping as his back hits the cinder block wall, propping up in a defeated pose that I feel in every part of my being as I stand in front of him. “Cash wanted you here, and the front office agreed to a year. If you proved yourself, they said they would keep you around for your talent. That’s why I’ve been pushing you. I needed you to show them youdeserveto be on this team. You’re a talented player, which has not one thing to do with that piece of shit.”
This can’t be real. All the work I put in. All the time I spent proving myself, only to have him get me the contract. I thought the organization had faith in me. I thought I earned my place in this sport. “How many times has he pulled strings behind the scenes, and I didn’t know about it?”
“Just this. He only has pull in this organization. From what I hear, he has some damning info on some higher-up.”
Of course he’d blackmail Coyote brass and employ dirty methods to get his way. Anything at any cost, no matter who it hurts. “I’m done. With all of it. The team. The league. The sport. And everything linked to my father.”
“No, Lowe, that’s what he wants.”
“Well, he’s finally getting it—exactly what he’s always wanted—and he didn’t even have to break my arm this time.” I pivot, walking out to my truck.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get away from the stadium. Away from the cheering and adoration. Away from the lights and smells. Because all of it is one big Cash Barlowe spectacle.
