Chapter Forty Three: Willow

Indie and Leigh block my path from exiting the suite. This isn’t how I imagined spending birthdaypalooza with them. Sure, baseball was always on the agenda, but the anxiety of possibly losing my team was not.

“Move,” I growl.

“No.” Indie plants her hands on her hips, broadening her stance so I can’t pass through the glass doorway behind her. “What part of keeping your nose clean didn’t you understand? If you go rushing down to the clubhouse right now and someone sees you, the press will have a fucking field day. Especially after the news of you and Bishop releases.”

“They’re my team,” I counter.

“Let me ask you this,” Leigh interjects, always the voice of reason. “Are you doing down there for the team or for Bishop?”

“You didn’t go running down there when Graham was thrown out of the game,” Indie adds, softer this time as she reads the agony twisted on my face.

They’re right, but Bishop is the other half of my heart. I need to make sure he’s okay.

Panic grips my spine, and I feel the telltale signs of an anxiety attack rising—my heart rate spikes, my mouth goes dry, and my mind spins. Bishop just wrapped a reason to trade him in a bright, shiny bow and handed it to Vaughn. It doesn’t matter now if I sign over the team. He got what he wanted and has no reason not to out us too.

I wrap my arms around myself and smooth the skin on my biceps, pretending, if only in my mind, that they are Bishop’s arms. His hands.

Breathe, Kitten,he’d say. We have a plan. I’m not going anywhere.

But he can’t possibly know that.

I drop my chin to my chest and heave a defeated sigh.

“Three more innings, Wills, then you can go be the hero. But right now, Luca’s right. You need to keep your nose clean and let the team handle Bishop.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Leigh grimace, and I assume it”s from Indie’s mention of a certain tall Italian owner.

“Are you going to tell us why you hate Luca so much?” I mutter, grasping for something to occupy my mind. There hasn’t been a chance for me to press her about the reaction she had to him yesterday at the game, or his claims they’ve met before.

She exhales a heavy sigh. “No.”

“Not even if it distracts me from staging a jailbreak and heading down to the clubhouse right now?”

Leigh lets out a ragged exhale. “Remember how you didn’t tell us about Bishop because you needed to protect your heart?”

I wince. That’s not exactly how I said it, but Leigh can read between the lines.

“I need that space in regards to Luca.”

Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her, burying my nose in her blonde hair. “I get it. We’re here when you need us.”

Indie joins our hug and snorts. “You guys and fucking men. This is why you won’t see me waste more than a night on a trouser snake.”

That has us all giggling.

“Really? Trouser snake, Indie?” Leigh snickers.

Indie shrugs and untangles herself. “Real men get the luxury of having a cock. And even then, never for more than one night.”

I shake my head. Being an actress, Indie has had a rough go in the men department. Too often, they only see the stars next to her name and a social ladder to climb. It breaks my heart that it’s jaded her. I hold on to the fact that I know she still believes in romance. Deep down, in the part that clings to the romance books we read, she yearns for more. Hopefully someday, someone will give her the love she deserves.

“That was a bullshit call,” a gruff man with a beer belly bellows from the seats in front of our suite.

We turn to see the end of the inning, with Elliot Stone shaking his head as he walks back to the dugout.

Two more and I can head to the clubhouse.

“Come on.” Indie leans in and bumps my shoulder, then does the same to Leigh. “Let’s order a round of margaritas to take the edge off.”

Leigh and I nod, but my stomach rolls. Everything is falling into place, but I can only hope it will be enough.

Luca and I spent the five hours between the team meeting and the game making phone calls to every owner we could get a hold of. We shared with them my relationship with Bishop and asked for their support. Many of them shrugged us off, remarking they wouldn’t go on the record saying they approved but agreed they wouldn’t fight any ruling made by the commissioner. A few vehemently disagreed and will no doubt be vocal against us. Only three congratulated me.

When it came to telling them about Vaughn, they were hesitant to believe us. After Luca shared the contents of his meeting and the recording with them, they unanimously agreed if I didn’t fire him they would make sure the commissioner did. If there’s one thing the league takes seriously, it’s cheating. I find it funny because they all cheat in small ways every day—pitchers with tar hidden on their gloves or forearms, base coaches watching the pitchers grip and giving the batter a tip—they just don’t get caught. It’s a catch twenty-two, but it’s a small win and I’ll take it.

I’m back in my seat, still waiting on that margarita, when my phone buzzes.

LUCA: Clubhouse. Now. Vaughn is heading down with the commissioner.

“Shit.”

“What?” Leigh looks up questioningly, but I’m already out of my seat.

“Vaughn’s heading to the clubhouse with the Commissioner,” I say, already on my way to the door.

I tear through the executive concourse and down to the clubhouse with Indie and Leigh hot on my heels. When I get there, Luca and Carson are waiting outside Graham’s office.

Luca’s eyes land on Leigh before he begrudgingly pulls them to greet me. “They’re inside already.”

Hands shaking, I wipe my sweat-covered palms against my skirt. “Here goes nothing.”

I swing open the door and find Graham, a statue behind his desk, with Commissioner Falco and Vaughn flanking him. Bishop sits in one of the plush seats in front of them, his hands fisted on his thighs.

They all swivel their heads to where I stand in the door, and my heart stutters when Bishop’s hands relax and his mouth hitches at the corner.

“What’s going on here?”I ask, flicking my gaze between them before landing a hard glare in Vaughn’s direction.

“Player business. Nothing that concerns you,” Vaughn sneers, cracking his knuckles like he’s ready for a schoolyard brawl.

Bring it, asshole.

The commissioner straightens his spine. “Vaughn insisted we get ahead of the fight in the sixth and come up with a course of action to share with the press after the game.”

“I just bet he did,” I mutter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vaughn scoffs.

“Only that you’ve been gunning for Bishop since the draft.”

Vaughn rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the upward twitch of his lips. “He should have thought of that before he punched Travers in the face.”

Bishop slams his hands on the desk and growls. “I told you what he said. I wasn’t going to let him imply our owner could suck George off to soften the blow of the scandal.”

My eyes go wide, and I whip my gaze to Bishop. “He said what?”

“Here nor there, Mr. Lawson,” the commissioner says with a sigh, like they’ve already had this discussion. “Fighting is a punishable offense in this league and needs to be dealt with. As I was saying before Ms. York joined us, the league standard is a five-game suspension and a seventy-thousand dollar fine. The same will be handed out to Mr. Whitmore for intentionally hitting Julio Travers with a pitch with the adjustment of three games and only a twenty-five thousand dollar fine.”

“Worth it,” Carson quips behind me.

Bishop out for five games and Carson for three is going to hurt the team, but at least they will be served during spring training. Both of them can afford the fines, exorbitant as they are.

Vaughn steps forward and leans against Graham’s desk, twisting toward the commissioner. “He made a mockery of our team before the season started and has held up that standard today. I stand by my request for Lawson to be traded.”

“What your club does with your players is between you and your staff.”

The commissioner is not wrong to stay out of it, but I had hoped he’d stand his ground and point out that teams fight all the time when tensions are high in a game. That’s not exactly grounds for trading a player away. Then again, Bishop isn’t a typical player, and this isn’t a normal situation.

Vaughn’s lips twist into a maniacal grin. “It’s funny you should mention that, George.”

He reaches into his suit pocket and produces a stack identical to the one he handed me this morning.

My brow raises, challenging his move. “Are you sure you want to do that, Vaughn?”

I shouldn’t be giving him the chance to think this through. Either way, he’s done, but I’d rather tell the commissioner about Bishop and me on my terms.

“Absolutely,” he sneers, stretching his hand out further.

Commissioner Falco takes the photos and fingers through them, a gasp falling from his lips. He looks up at Bishop and then at me. “Are these real?”

“Yes, they are,” I confirm. “Bishop and I met over a year ago at a charity function. We shared a night together then. Neither of us expected our romance to rekindle, but we found our way back to each other during spring training as we helped each other heal from the grief of the crash. I love him, and he loves me.”

“Is this true?” He turns to Bishop.

A smile spreads across Bishop’s face, and he stands to his full height. “With all my heart, sir.”

“You both know about the fraternization policy.”

“Uh, if I may, Commissioner.” Luca steps from behind me and situates himself between the commissioner and me. “Willow hasn’t been involved directly in Bishop’s contracts. She’s voiced that she doesn’t want to see him traded, but beyond that, this is an area she’s been hands-off. Strictly speaking, if there are checks and balances put into place, there is no reason this relationship couldn’t be completely aboveboard. There’s an owner in the NHL that fell in love with a player on her team. We could look at how they’ve structured and see if something similar could be used here. We’ve also spoken to many of the other owners across the league, and they’ve shared they won’t put up a fight if you rule in the favor of these two.”

“You what?” Vaughn shouts, veins bulging along his receding salt and pepper hairline. “This is preposterous. You can’t possibly be considering letting these two carry on this affair. It will set a precedent for not only this team but the league.”

“Again, I can only speak for the league,” the commissioner says, “but I’m inclined to look at the checks and balances Mr. Donati has proposed, and assuming they don’t interfere with our policies, whatever these two do behind closed doors is their business.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Vaughn throws his stubby hands up before turning his ire on me. “Your father would be ashamed of what you’ve done with this team.”

I smirk. He just doesn’t know when to shut up. “That’s a pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Nail him, Willow,” Carson mutters.

Vaughn swallows hard but still wears the mask of a man who believes he’s gotten away with murder. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“While we’re airing grievances, I’d like to formally announce the removal of Vaughn Logan as my President of Baseball Operations.”

“You can’t fire me!” Vaughn bellows, his face turning a bright cherry red. “I’ll sue you for wrongful termination.”

The commissioner’s eyes go wide, and for a moment, he gapes at the mouth before schooling his features. “You’re well within your rights, Ms. York, but if I may ask, on what grounds are you releasing him from his duties?”

A smile stretches across my face. “He’s the one who orchestrated the cheating with the umpires, not my father.”

“HA!” Vaughn rolls his eyes. “You really think I would do that? I’m the one who has kept this team together from the day he took over the team. Why would I ruin everything I’ve built?”

Vaughn’s voice fills the space, but his lips don’t move.

I couldn’t have planned it better myself.

Carson steps forward, his phone in his hand playing the recording he took of Vaughn admitting everything to me.

“That’s not me,” Vaughn scoffs, trying to backpedal. “They probably had that doctored up to get rid of me.”

“Would you like me to pull the footage from the executive corridor this morning?”

“There aren’t any cameras up there.” His eyes dart from Graham to the Commissioner to Luca, looking for anyone to back up his claim.

None of them do.

“Are you sure?” I press. There absolutely aren”t any cameras, but with the way sweat pours off Vaughn’s forehead, it’s clear he doesn’t know that for sure.

“Is this true, Vaughn?” Commissioner Falco asks, cold betrayal written across his face.

Vaughn doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns to me, the chords of his neck pulsing and desperate fear in his eyes. “Come on, Willow. You know I wouldn’t put this team in jeopardy.”

“You’re right. Not this team.” I look up at Bishop and over to Carson. “This team is stronger than the sum of its parts, which doesn’t include you. The team that came before them, on the other hand, has your sticky fingers all over it, and I plan to wipe them clean.”

Vaughn’s voice shakes as he bellows, “This was supposed to be my team, not yours!”

I give him a smug smile and shrug. “My father didn’t see it that way.”

“Rethink this, Willow.” His voice softens as he tries to rewrite history as if it will save him. “I have helped you every step of the way since you’ve taken over. You’ve been nothing without me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Vaughn. I wanted your help navigating a world I thought I knew nothing about. I gave you too much rope. It turns out it’s just what you needed to hang yourself. All along you’ve seen me as my mother’s daughter, a pampered princess, but you forgot one crucial thing. While I might have been Adriana York’s plaything, I am also Richard York’s protégé. It took me far too long to realize he raised me to love this game—this team—and it was never about his legacy. He strived to instill in me the importance of the family within these hallowed halls. For the Yorks—the ones that matter anyway—it’s never been about the money.”

“You’ll run this team into the ground,” Vaughn snarls and starts around the desk toward me.

Bishop steps in front of me at the same time as Graham jumps to his feet and jerks Vaughn back, pressing him against the back wall with a forearm to his throat.

I place a hand on Bishop’s bicep and look up at him, nodding my thanks as I step around him and address my former President of Baseball Operations. “We might not succeed, but we’ll go down with smiles on our faces knowing we did it together.”

“That’s right baby, Renegades for life,” Bishop says. He presses a kiss to my temple and whispers only for me. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“So, Bishop and Willow are staying?”

I turn around to see who asked and find the entire team staring back at me, each of them holding their breath, waiting to hear the verdict. The game must have ended, and they’ve wedged themselves in the doorway behind Indie, Leigh, Carson, and Luca.My family. Not by blood, but by the trials and tragedies that have brought us together.

The commissioner shakes his head, but the hitch in his lips tells us what we want to know before he says it. “Pending an official investigation, they’re staying.”

The entire team goes feral with cheers, and my heart skips a beat.

This is what I dreamed of. This is the start of my legacy.

I look up at Bishop and find the mischief I saw that first night we met, freezing on a balcony, mixed with a hint of what looks like forever etched in his eyes.

“Who are we?” he asks.

“Renegades, baby.”