Chapter Ten: Willow

I woke up feeling more like myself than I have in months. That’s not to say there isn’t a part of me that feels guilty using Bishop like my own personal fuck toy, and allowing him to do the same before sneaking out while he was still asleep. There is. It’s the same anxious feeling in my gut that knows it can never happen again, despite a very different part of me that wants just that. Last night was as I told him: a distraction followed by a goodbye of sorts.

Goodbye to the man who pushed me to be better. Goodbye to the attachment I’ve held onto for far too long. Goodbye to what was beginning, once upon a time, to feel a lot like love.

Don’t get me wrong. Feelings are still there, but as long as I don’t think too hard about them, I’m able to focus on the good that comes from letting go. Last night, he ignited a fire in the deepest parts of me, burning through the fear of failing and left hope in its wake. Hope that maybe I have what it takes to push past the grief and roadblocks and make this team something my father would be proud of.

Instead of showing up bright and early to the stadium, I let Vaughn know I’d be working from the beach house. I didn’t let him know I’d be doing so in my bikini, soaking in the heat of the Florida sun. I’m sure he’d have a few choice things to say about me working on my tan instead of showing up. But I needed the day to myself. Plus, it’s not like I need to be there for the first few days. It’s all physicals, team meetings, and allowing the pitchers and catchers to get acquainted with one another before the entire team shows up next week.

The afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders as I roll over onto my belly and set my laptop in front of me on the plush outdoor lounge, reading over the plans I’ve spent all day organizing.

They’re a pipe dream, a wish list of everything I want to do with the Renegades. They span from ideas on how to build a team of champions, to ways to get our fans excited about coming to the ballpark again. They fill in the holes left behind by my father, who had lofty dreams of making money in the sport he loved. While he was a fan from the day he was born and cherished this organization like it was an extension of his family, that sentiment didn’t expand beyond the team. He was still a businessman, and while I completely understand his choices, the Renegades can be so much more. I want to see that happen.

My phone buzzes beside me, two short and one long, and I know before looking who it is.

INDIE: T-minus one month until I see your faces!

LEIGH: Willow’s Birthday Paloooooooooza!!!

I roll my eyes and close the laptop screen before pulling myself up to sit cross-legged. I’m so lucky to have Leighton James and Indiana Lewisin my life. They don’t ever come out and say it when they message, but this is them checking in on me. Since the crash, they’ve made sure there isn’t a day that goes by that they don’t call or text. Always under the guise of something else, never anything of importance, but they always check in, knowing it’s something I need so I don’t spiral. They ground me, not because I asked, but because that’s what best friends do.

A stray thought hits me, and I wonder if Bishop has anyone checking in on him like this. My fingers hover over the button that will take me out of the girls’ group text to where a text chain with him still sits. I’m itching to reach out, if only to remind him he’s not alone, but then I remember that’s not my job. Not anymore.

Another text from the girls comes through, and I force thoughts of Bishop from my head.

INDIE: What’s on the agenda this year for birthdaypalooza? Beach? Books? Boys? Oooooh…you think she’ll let me sneak into the locker room and get a peek at all those tight asses?

LEIGH: She’s not even looking at those tight asses.

INDIE: A shame really.

LEIGH: Right? She’s doing a disservice to women everywhere. Come on Willow, share the asses.

INDIE: GIF of shaking butt>

LEIGH: GIF of swaying butt>

I roll my eyes with a smile on my face as I reply.

WILLOW: Some of us are trying to work.

Ever since we were in school, we have tried to celebrate our birthdays together. Indie dubbed Birthdaypalooza the week before and after your birthday, all of which is fair game to celebrate. And this year they are going above and beyond to make sure I’m not alone.

INDIE: Work-shmork.

WILLOW: But also, I’m excited you two are coming.

INDIE: Asses Willow! Some of us are surrounded by tiny hands with large attitudes all day, every day. SEND US ASSES.

I chuckle at the visual of my two best friends up to their eyeballs in kids. Neither of them have ever particularly liked children, but in the last year both of them have been thrust into situations where kids rule their lives. Leigh became a mom unexpectedly after a one-night stand, and after the crash, she took over running Renegade Hearts for me. She splits her time in the city and at the camp upstate. Not because she needs to but because, like me, she knows what it’s like to lose your parents and believes in our cause with her whole chest.

Indie, on the other hand, is a movie-star-turned-nanny. Well, that’s how she describes it anyway. She’s in Europe filming her next movie, which apparently is a rom-com set at some ballet boarding school where she is the new teacher, and all the students hate her.

Sounds like my life except replace students with the majority of the Renegade’s upper management.

Smiling, I text back my response.

WILLOW: No asses. But I’ll have plenty of sun, dirty books and alcohol waiting for you.

INDIE: Sisterhood of the traveling smut!

LEIGH: Bishop really did get it right giving us that name.

INDIE: oooooh Bishop is going to be there, right Wills? How’s that going? Is he still being an asshat?

LEIGH: Oh, he’s an asshat. An asshat with the face of a brooding alphahole. Holy shit did you see the death glares he gave those reporters when they tried to follow him out of the stadium?

INDIE: Oh fuck. No! Show me!

LEIGH: sends link to The Foul Line>

INDIE: Tell him you’ll kiss that frown off his face if he gets his head out of his ass. He likes when you do that.

WILLOW: eye roll emoji> Trust me my kisses aren’t effective in head-from-ass removal.

LEIGH: WILLOW MAE ARE YOU KISSING BISHOP LAWSON.

Shit. I instantly regret my fingers moving faster than my brain.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell my best friends about what happened between Bishop and me. I do. Usually, I tell them everything. But Bishop, our night, is something I don’t want to let them in on. That moment is ours, and anything they say might taint the beauty in the sorrow I feel. I want to hold on to that. It’s mine.

INDIE: Go on…

WILLOW: It’s nothing. We kissed. He told me I was a good distraction. End of story.

LEIGH: Start from the beginning.

I begrudgingly recap the story of what happened on the plane, leaving out the part where I was practically grinding on his cock through his pants and the subsequent visit to his hotel room. It’s selfish, but I’d rather they continue to see him as somewhat of the villain. It will help my resolve to end things if they aren’t pressing me to explore things—hopeless romantics that they are.

INDIE: That fucker. When I get there, I swear he won’t know his mouth from his ass because I’ll have inverted them myself.

I love fired up Indie, but maybe I took this too far.

WILLOW: Really that’s not necessary.

LEIGH: Okay, so he’s an asshole, but also, I sort of get it.

INDIE: WTF Leigh?

LEIGH: He’s grieving. He lost literally everyone. And flying sucks when you don’t have the fresh reminder that your entire team died in a plane crash. Plus, Bishop Lawson has already proved kisses are his only form of distraction. It’s par for the course.

INDIE: He’s not the only one grieving though. He’s taking advantage of our girl and that’s a dick move.

LEIGH: I’m not saying he was right in what he did. I hate him for putting Willow through that since we both know she’s not over him.

Fuck Leigh and her ability to see right through me.

I fire back.

WILLOW: That’s not true.

It’s totally true. 100%. No lies detected. But it’s over. Time to move on.

LEIGH: monocle emoji> Are you sure about that? You went out of your way to make sure he had a private jet to get down to Florida.

WILLOW: For the sake of the team.

LEIGH: Uh huh. I see you, Willow Mae.

INDIE: It doesn’t change the fact he was an asshat and doesn’t deserve your lips, let alone any other part of you.

LEIGH: I’m just saying. I don’t think he meant what he said. We say a lot of shit when we’re grieving. Remember the summer I shut you guys out after my parents passed? I said some horrible shit.

INDIE: I still haven’t forgiven you for the comment you made about my hair being like a lion’s mane.

LEIGH: It’s a very pretty lion’s mane. Brings all the boy lions to the yard.

INDIE: middle finger emoji>

A weighted sigh escapes me, and I type and retype my response three times before I send it.

WILLOW: I hear you. I really do, but I’m his boss. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, there isn’t a future for us.

It’s the truth. And I need to hold on to that more than ever. We might have an insane chemistry that transcends the realm of reality, but Bishop and I are two fucked up sides of the same coin at the moment. We each need to figure out how to move forward, and we can’t do that together.

INDIE: That’s right Willow. Tell him to fuck off and maybe put a laxative in his Gatorade.

LEIGH: face palm emoji>

WILLOW: I’ll take both options into consideration.

LEIGH: Now that we’ve got that planned out, what dress do I need for the gala? Is there a theme or can I just go balls to the walls whatever makes me feel sexy?

Anxiety coils low in my stomach.

The gala.

It’s the one aspect of my work I’ve been avoiding thinking about. I still have no idea how I’m going to fix the issues with the league gala. Bishop wasn’t wrong when he said we were using the children of the victims of the crash. That was Vaughn’s plan all along. And what’s worse is the board of Renegade Hearts loves the idea. They ran the numbers and partnering with the league has the ability to generate millions for the organization. I’m the only one who sees a problem with it. Maybe because I was one of those kids once upon a time.

After my mom died, there was a period of time my dad didn’t know what to do with me. I was shipped off to boarding school. When I came home on breaks, he expected me to continue being a present part of the York name—attending parties and fundraisers with him like before. But it was different. I was no longer Adrianna York’s little progeny. I was the girl who lost her mother, and everyone made sure I knew that—with their pitying stares and half-hearted offers of condolences that would segue into questions about how they could get in good with my father. It wasn’t until my dad realized I enjoyed spending nights with him at the ballpark more than dressing in frilly dresses that things began to change. I was no longer my mother’s daughter but the daughter of Richard York, and no one messed with him.

I can’t put these children through that. Especially when none of them have the York name to fall back on.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my worries back to my friends.

INDIE: Absolutely go for sexy, Leigh. Lord knows you deserve the night out.

LEIGH: You aren’t wrong.

WILLOW: As long as it’s formal, whatever you wear will be perfect, I’m sure.

INDIE: I have the perfect dress for you, Wills.

WILLOW: We both know anything you fit in I won’t.

Where I am short, soft and all curves, Indie is a six-foot, African American goddess with the body to match.

INDIE: Oh contraire, my voluptuous bestie, this is one from a designer friend of mine and you are going to love it.

WILLOW: You really don’t have to do that.

INDIE: It’s already done. Think of it as an extra birthday gift.

WILLOW: NO GIFTS. How many times do I have to tell you guys I don’t need anything?

LEIGH: Every year until forever.

INDIE: Too bad. It’s already done.

WILLOW: I’m not sure if I should be excited or terrified.

LEIGH: Both. Definitely both.

INDIE: loooooooove yooooooou

WILLOW: Right back at ya. Now I need to get back to work.

INDIE: No, what you need to do is go find yourself a cabana boy and get laid. But work is cool too.

The thought of finding a random hookup makes my skin crawl. But I can’t deny that maybe Indie is right. Maybe it’s time I put myself back out there. Even if it’s only so I don’t have to wake up each morning after dreaming of Bishop and help myself with a battery powered boyfriend.

I shake my head and roll onto my back, soaking in the sun on all the bits I keep hidden behind my skirts and power suits. Setting my phone down, I close my eyes and turn my focus back to the list I’ve created, making a mental note to email it to Nikki, our PR coordinator, with strict instructions to keep it between us but look it over and let me know what she thinks.

It’s a lofty goal, but for the first time since taking over the Renegades, I feel like I’m finally on the right path. It’s a good feeling to have hope for the future.