11. Hudson

11

HUDSON

“ C oach Raymer, Hudson Byrnes is here, sir,” the assistant to the head coach says into the wireless headset attached to her ear that is truly, completely handless. She never once picks up the phone; she just tilts her head to one side to call, speaks into the headset to call Coach, when finished, she tilts her head to the other side.

This stadium is one of the newest in the country, and everything is modern and built around the most advanced technology. Even the parking lot is automated for the players and coaches. It has built-in vehicle lifts that park your car and bring it to you when you call for it on an app.

I didn’t use it since I’m not a player... yet . Plus, I’m not all that comfortable with a robot parking my overly sized rental vehicle.

“Have a seat. He’s just finishing up a meeting.” She gestures to the plush leather seats in the middle of the room.

Glancing around the room, there are posters of baseball’s greatest lining the walls. Trophies, plaques for charities local to Seattle, team emblems, and shadow boxes full of memorabilia. Some recent, for celebratory reasons, and some original items, that are truly priceless.

Before my injury, I thought I would play baseball my entire life. Hell, even after my injury. I was so determined to come back, join my team, and keep going. My ankle had other ideas. The doctors said when it broke, shattered really, the bones could never fully heal properly. Today, it’s better than ever. My movement is no longer restricted, and I trust it again. It’s taken years to feel like I can completely rely on it without doubt.

It’s myself I doubt on the bad days.

When the doctors said I was ready to come back, the team already had a full roster, and it didn’t make sense for them to add me back in. I was limited on playing time, and for them, I was a liability. So, they gave me a choice; play for their minor league team to gain back my ankle strength back or become a free agent. Being that I’m a catcher, I needed the practice and time to rebuild my strength. I knew I needed it. I didn’t want to become a free agent and risk no one picking me up. I couldn’t blame them for not bringing me back, but I can’t say the fall from the top didn’t hit hard.

As much as I’ve been trying to stick it out with them, in hopes of getting moved up to the majors, my time there has an expiration date. I know it, my coach knows it, they won’t consider me for majors again.

I want this so goddamn bad.

I need this.

“Mr. Byrnes, he will see you now.”

The nerves I pushed aside come back full force in an instant. My brain is frantic, thinking of all the ways I need to make this happen. A storm of chaos bellows in my stomach, and I need this to end better than last weekend, when Ember walked out of my hotel room, never looking back.

I walk into the coach’s office, holding my hand out with confidence and enthusiasm. “Coach Raymer, it’s great to?— ”

“Sit,” he grunts out.

I halt in my step, jarred by how blunt he is. He’s known to be a hardass, but he’s verging on rude, being this is the first time we’ve ever met. But before he can say anything more, I sit.

“I understand you flew here last week to meet with me, but a scheduling conflict on my calendar prevented that from happening,” he starts as he shuffles through a couple of papers.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re taking this opportunity seriously.” He peers up from his glasses to appraise me.

“I am, sir.” Less is more with this guy.

“I’m a straight shooter, Hudson.” He leans into his palms, rising to his feet. He’s hovering over his desk like he needs to yell at something, and I’m totally unsure why he seems so damn angry. “Your stats speak for themselves, but you’re a risk and I need a reliable player.”

I say the only thing that comes to mind.

“I’m better than ever, coach. Mentally and physically.”

He peers down at me again, a small squint in his eye. Releasing the papers he had in his hand, they float to the desk as he sits back in his chair. He just stares. He should intimidate me, but he doesn’t. I want this more than anyone else he is considering. So, I tilt my chin up, showing the confidence I have in myself and what I just said.

“I have a lot to offer. And I’m ready.” It’s not cocky, it’s realistic and honest.

“I like your stats. They outweigh the risk. But you’re also a known playboy. I’ve heard about your ‘ladies’ man’ reputation. I don’t like that wild shit running around my team. It’s distracting. The media thrives on making a mockery of it, and I can’t have that here. That’s a huge risk to the image I’m trying to preserve for my team.”

My first year on injury reserve, I used women and alcohol as a crutch to get by. I was the instigator of every party and probably every problem that had to do with the media, but over time, I eased up. Somehow, it has stuck with me ever since, even though I had no reputation before or after that.

Hiding my internal frustration, I close my eyes and see a blanket of red. Not the violent red caused by rage. The kind of red you see when the sun hits the hills of the horizon, after the blending of yellows, oranges, and reds, that causes a chain reaction spreading through the sky, before taking your breath away.

My little red.

I’m not sure what comes over me because I’m unable to stop the next words that come out of my mouth.

“I’m married, Coach, and quite obsessed with my wife, actually.” The shock penetrates his face as if I physically attempted to punch it.

Mine, too. I just hid it better.

Usually I’m a terrible liar, but neither is a lie, technically.

His neck snaps over to look at his assistant coach, who seems to be sifting through papers, like that was partially a deciding factor that they missed.

My eyes widen as I silently scold myself. I look down at my shoe to avoid them seeing the horror that is written all over my face and shift uncomfortably in my seat.

What the hell was I thinking?

“Well...” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t aware, but I’m very happy to hear that. The last thing I need is some philandering womanizer running all over town when he should be making this his first priority.”

It’s unbelievable. You can live your whole life doing the right thing, uphold a standard code of normalcy, and never get into any kind of trouble. A few short-lived mistakes during a rough stint of time and your reputation becomes that and only that.

People do not forgive easily and they sure as hell don’t forget .

I don’t have the energy to defend my actions, nor do I feel the need to. But I do need to stand up for myself and fight for this.

“I’ve made some mistakes in the past, sir. I know this. But that was then. I’m here now, and I’m invested. I’ll be the first one here and the last one to leave. I guarantee you, if you give me the opportunity to bring what I have to this team, I won’t let you down.”

He sits back in his chair and inhales so long, it’s abnormal. Finally, at its peak, he huffs out an exhausted breath, crossing his arms over his chest. He stares through me, being his own personal polygraph, pausing for what feels like a light-year.

“I’ve always gone with my gut, Hudson. In my role, you have to. I’m gonna sign you. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Holy shit.

This is it. My second chance.

Trying to hide my shock but show my genuine excitement is a balancing act I was not prepared for.

“Sir, I’m beyond honored.” I smile and stand, throwing out my hand to him.

He stands, sliding his hand into mine. He’s still stern as hell, but not even his sour face can erase my smile.

“I’ll get you set up in one of our leasehold estates, effective immediately. We have condos across the street from the stadium that all our players stay in.

“Practice doesn’t usually start for two more weeks, but I’d like you here, starting now, so the coaches can work with you on a few things before pitchers and catchers report for the season.”

“You got it. Not a problem, Coach,” I reply.

“What’s your wife’s name?” he asks.

“Ember.” Just saying her name makes my stomach drop, remembering my lie. Well, non-lie. Half-lie .

“Ember Byrnes .” Chuckling to himself as he accentuates her last name. “Wow, she probably hated the idea of marrying you.”

Neither one of us remembers it much.

“I’ll make sure both your names are on the agreement. She’ll need to be here to sign it when it’s ready. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” He finishes shaking my hand, releasing my grip.

The realization of the seriousness of my lie hits me and bile rises to the back of my throat.

She lives in another goddamn state and acts like she’s allergic to me. I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off.

“Thank you, Coach.”

I exit his office and urgently walk to my car. I’m not sure if I’m running from the blinding white lie I just told or running as quickly as I can before he changes his mind.

Jesus, what the hell was I thinking?

I want to call Ember. Demand she come here. Frankly, I want to demand more than her just coming here because where she is concerned, I’m greedy. But with her, I need to be persistent, not pushy.

I could ask her here. Maybe she’ll pose for me for a day, but her constant “I can’t” response gives me PTSD I didn’t realize I had until now.

I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to get myself out of this.

I hop into the truck I rented, dialing Jake before my phone even connects to Bluetooth. Since he lives here in Seattle, it just felt natural to call him first.

“Hey, Hud. How did it go?” His voice comes through faintly in the background from the small speaker of my phone instead of the speakers of the truck.

“Hold on.” I press connect on the touch screen.

“Hello?” Jake’s voice blares through in echoing waves as it finally syncs .

“Jake. Man. I messed up.” I run my hand through my hair, attempting to tame the crazed strands making my appearance just as deranged as my lie.

“What happened?” he asks curiously.

“I got it. He’s signing me, but he kept bringing up my ‘playboy’ reputation. It was a concern for him.” I chipmunk my cheeks, pushing air out of my lungs. “I told him I was married.”

“That’s not so bad, right? I mean, technically, you are.” Jake’s tone is uncertain.

“He asked for her name to put her on the lease agreement. I gave him Ember, and now she’s gotta be here to sign in.”

Now his full, accentuated grunt sounds like he partially choked on his own spit.

He recovers easily, avoiding a laughing stint as a favor to me, I’m sure.

“Married and buying a house together, all in the span of a long weekend. You’re a busy man.”

My silence says it all.

Clearing his throat, “I’m at the Ford building downtown. Chris and I are taking Elena out tonight. Come by here and let’s figure it out. We can all go to dinner to celebrate.” Leave it to Jake to always stay calm in every situation.

I mean, I’m calm. On the outside.

Inside, my stomach wants to barrel through my esophagus, my heart wants to palpitate out of my chest, and my brain wants to kick my own ass to the next planet.

“See you in a bit.” Hanging up, I press the Push Start button on the truck’s ignition and head in the direction of the Ford building. Normally, I would plug the address into GPS, but it’s the tallest skyscraper in Seattle and you can’t miss the damn thing. It’s a glass fortress that towers over everything downtown.

Elena, Jake’s wife, is the one who inspired us to throw Jake a belated bachelor party. Christian Ford is their significant other. I think. I’m not quite sure what his label is. At some point, they opened up their marriage and Christian met Elena through a work contract. Things escalated over time, and now they are in a poly style relationship together. I think they all pretty much live together when Christian isn’t traveling. He’s Seattle’s local billionaire, philanthropist, and entrepreneur. No big deal.

When Jake first told me about their unique relationship, I initially thought that would never work, but I have never seen Jake so happy.

I’m not sure how Jake does it. I could never share Ember. Just the thought of her with another guy makes my body tense, gripping the steering wheel of this Chevy truck so goddamn hard I could snap it off. Even more so, a deeper jealousy blankets over me, thinking of someone else getting her days, her time, her moments. The special ones. Her excitement, her joy, her love.

Fuck .

I just need to get over it. Get over her. It was one goddamn night. I need to get settled here, send her divorce papers—annulment papers—and just move on. I have so much to focus on with the Smashers now, and I need to be present. Invested. Having her at the forefront of my mind is the exact opposite of what I committed to my coach.

I also told him I was fucking married. To a woman that doesn’t even know my last name, lives in another state, and runs from me every chance she gets.

As I pull into the parking lot of the Ford building, I park the truck and stare at the ignition button. Push Stop . If only my emotions could be that easy.

I press into the button, allowing the engine to cease, and will my perpetual thoughts of Ember to do the same.