Chapter 34

MATT

* * *

"Are you ready to play with the big boys?" Julian asks.

I'm headed to Florida in a few days. From a career perspective, it's a dream come true. I'll be playing with the MLB greats, even if they're preseason games. It's my chance to show them what I've got, why they signed me, and why they should promote me to the show. It's rare guys my age move up so quickly. I'm fortunate and need to take full advantage of this opportunity. It's time to step up and show them why I'm the guy for the job.

From a personal perspective, I'm scared shitless. It means I leave this sanctuary where I've hidden from everyone and everything for the past six weeks. Reentering the world - not something I'm ready to do.

Julian has been in Mexico with me, occasionally leaving for a day or two, but popping back in like he never left. I told him I don't need a babysitter, and he says, "I know," and stays anyway.

He's the poster child for working remotely. I admire how he conducts business with his clients and team, always listening and keeping everyone happy. Watching him work is like a master class in peopling. It's a gift. He's one hell of a protector and caretaker. I used to relate to those traits. Not so much anymore. Caretakers don't betray people.

Julian also spends a lot of time typing away on his laptop. I assume he's answering emails, but every once in a while, he asks me a random question about love and grand gestures. Then he looks at me, mumbles never mind, and goes back to typing. I don't know what's going on in his head, but I've enjoyed his company more than I thought. He's the most laid-back Decker sibling but also the most complex - his layers seem infinite. Even though he's my agent and my once-best friend's future brother-in-law, I consider him a friend too. And at this stage in the game, I need a friend.

"Yeah, I head out on Thursday. Nervous, though." I'm going straight to Florida for spring training from Mexico.

I've asked Mom to pack up my rental house and send a few things to me in Florida, like my baseball glove and cleats. She didn't ask many questions, giving me the space I asked for. She knows the highlights of my situation and is optimistic things will work out for the best. I text every few days to assure her I'm fine. A few pictures of the beach now and then keep her at bay. For now.

I'm not sure what my future holds, but when I return to Charleston, I'll need a fresh start. I'll miss Isle of Palms, but I can't stay in that house and not think of Darcy. Hell, I don't know that I'll be able to be on the island at this rate.

Tripp and Chance arrived yesterday, telling me something about a last hurrah before we all get back to work. Chance has the week off because it's the All-Star break. I feel bad for intruding on their traditions, but they blow me off and act like I've been part of the group all along. They throw out comments about mentoring the next generation, making me feel more out of place. I don't belong.

"Nothing to be nervous about, just be on the lookout for rookie pranks, but I think after your Pajamas experiences, you'll be fine," Tripp says. Spending three summers with the fun-loving Savannah Pajamas exposes a player to every prank in the book, so he's probably right. I'm prepared for that part of the team culture. Tripp dives into a gigantic platter of nachos, his advice dispensed.

That's something I've thought about a lot. Where do I belong? Who do I belong with? I used to answer those questions with unwavering certainty. Now, I just don't know.

I don't feel like I belong with the Ghost Peppers yet. I know that team relationship and bonding takes time to build. Last year, I came into the team fast and during mid-season. It made for awkwardness. I've discovered that individual competition is even more cutthroat at this level. Unlike college, where we know the odds of getting the call and all have degrees as a backup plan, minor league ball is MLB or bust. These guys have given up a lot for this game, and there is no plan B. Hell, I get it. I want it too.

I don't belong with the Davidsons anymore. Honestly, that one hurts the most. They've been my family for as long as I can remember. They're part of my core identity. Cole was the foundation of where and who I belong with, and that's gone. I've called him a few times, and it goes straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. After two weeks, I stopped trying. Ashleigh said to give him time but to trust the process, whatever that means. The uncertainty of my friendship is unsettling.

Darcy Davidson? That's a certainty of not belonging. I don't belong with her to start. She deserves better than me, and I've always known that. I'm not good enough for her, and the fact she even gave me a chance doesn't go unappreciated. She deserves someone stable who can provide her with a home. That's a fact. My career is unstable. I can be traded or moved at any time. Or I can be injured or let go, unemployed. It's a massive amount of travel during the season, and it's long, March to September, maybe October if we're lucky to be in the playoffs. She deserves more than that. And she damn sure deserves a man who doesn't betray his friends. She deserves a man that will love her with everything he has. Of course, I'll always be that man, but she deserves the entire package, and that's not me. She's meant to soar. Her future's so bright I can't be the guy who keeps her from reaching her maximum potential. No, she is not where I belong.

I admit I've been stalking her socials, but she's been pretty quiet. Her followers exploded after New Year's, and I bet Ashleigh is encouraging her to build on the boost. The few posts have included people she's styled or a room she's brought to life, but nothing of her. Nothing that shows the world how special it is because she's in it. It's unfortunate because she's everything.

At night, I scroll through my phone and look at the pictures I'd taken of her. My favorites are of her in those oversized sweatshirts, hair a mess, and her smile lighting up the room as she works or dreams. She's so damn gorgeous. Just thinking about her makes my chest tighten.

Chance drops down on the couch next to me and throws me the Xbox controller. "Yeah, Matty boy, you're gonna blow them all away."

"Did you just quote Hamilton at me?" I ask. He made us watch the musical last night. I won't lie. I liked it. Who knew these guys were musical theater fans? Layers. Serious layers.

He grins, wiggles his eyebrows, and unpauses the game. Chance is an enigma if I've ever met one. A brute of a hockey player on the ice, a musical-watching, romance-reading, stray dog-loving, kindest guy you've ever met, off the ice guy. I was skeptical of him, but he's honestly one of the nicest human beings on the planet. It takes a lot of effort not to like him.

"I can't believe you passed up the All-Star game," Tripp says to Chance.

He shrugs. "Yeah, knee's been acting up a bit. Don't want to risk injury for something fun like the All-Star game. I'm in my golden years."

"I hear that," Tripp says. Both are at the peak of their careers, but realistically, they're probably in the last few years of playing before their bodies say enough. The extreme wear and tear professional athletes put on their bodies for the sake of the game is extensive.

"Besides, I'd rather be here with you goofballs. Damn Hartman, how did you see that one?" Chance says. We're playing Call of Duty, and I took out the sniper that was about to kill him.

"That's what I do. I look out for people." I realize what I said. "Or at least I used to," I mumble.

Chance hits pause and grabs me by the shoulders. He tightens his grip, making me feel slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Damn, boy, you've been working out. I swear you've gained twenty pounds of muscle since New Year's. You practically look like a hockey player."

I chuckle. I've been working out for hours every day, not because I'm trying to build muscle, but because it's a way to channel all the excess energy. The muscles? The outcome of my fucked-up life.

"Tripp has a helluva gym here, and I've had nothing but time, so…" I shrug my shoulders.

"All these beautiful girls around here, and you've spent all your time in the gym?" Chance asks.

"Yeah, not interested in the girls." Admittedly, girls have talked to me on the beach or when I've been in town, but the thought of another girl makes me want to throw up.

"Told ya," Julian says to Chance.

"Yup, just checking," Chance says.

I swear, sometimes these guys speak their own language.

"So, what's your plan?" Chance asks.

I'm so lost in this conversation. I think he's talking to Tripp until I notice three sets of eyes staring at me, waiting for an answer.

"Plan for what?" I ask, confused.

"Dude, this is a meeting of Team True Love. What are you going to do to get the girl?" Julian says.

Oh, I get it. They take this Team True Love thing seriously. They're delusional. Fucking romance-loving busybodies. "Um, nothing. She's better off without me. I'm gonna focus on baseball. It's what I have left."

"Seriously?" Chance asks, his face is full of disbelief. "You're going to let her go? Without a fight."

"She's already gone," I say, reaching for the nachos, hoping to end this discussion.

"I like Decker girls' time better," Chance says under his breath.

"Me too, buddy," Julian says. "Me too."