17. Hudson

17

HUDSON

T he day has gone by incredibly fast. I’ve spent it meeting the crew behind the team. My new team. The coaches, trainers, assistants, and, for me, specifically, the physical therapist for the team. Coach Raymer insisted he was the first person I met. I don’t know if that was meant as a compliment to take care of my injury, or a slap in the face that I need to be babied about it.

Either way, I’m still grateful.

This is the second chance I’ve been waiting for. Timing couldn’t be worse, with my current situation with Ember, but I can’t help but think this was somehow fated for us.

Meeting her on the plane, then running into her at the strip club. One in a million.

Us separately moving to the same city after a drunken marriage in Vegas. One in a trillion.

I just hope fate isn’t a tease. Because I want her. I want all of her.

I’ve spent the last half an hour setting up my locker, getting my gear ready. My athletes’ locker is already displaying my last name, stationed next to our starting pitcher. His is stuffed full of his gear and a boatload of pictures and personalized cards from his kids.

I’ve brought in all my personal gear, and still, after all these years, I only have one picture that hangs in mine. A picture of me and my twin brothers playing ball together during high school. It’s my favorite picture of the three of us. Not only is it a core memory for me, but it doesn’t include Henry. Seeing him just induces thoughts of resentment and bitterness.

I hope one day I’ll be able to get over that.

“Where’s Henry?” Coach Raymer steps beside me as he glances at the one solo picture I just hung up.

“He had already graduated when this picture was taken.” Keeping my reply generic.

“I mean, you have a picture of all your brothers, except for him. Is there animosity between the two of you because of your injury?”

“Nah, we’re good. We just don’t get to see each other much.” The lie feels like razor blades on my lips.

There has always been tension between Henry and me over the years. He’s the oldest, I’m the youngest. He spent our childhood making everything between us a competition and creating strain on our parents, making everything a fight or a challenge.

Oh, and the tiny, insignificant fact that he stole my ex-fiancé in college. Other than that, he’s not so bad.

Our reunion when I was drafted to his team for my first year of pro ball was a match made in heaven for the team and everyone that followed the Byrnes brothers. The pitcher and the catcher, together again.

Until my injury happened.

Maybe one day I’ll rid myself of the bitterness I’m holding. One day .

Coach just hums at my reply.

“I can’t say it wouldn’t be amazing to get the two of you together again.” His eyebrows raise, turning his statement into a question that I refuse to answer.

I just hum back.

“So, what time is Ember coming by?” His question kicks up my heart rate a couple decimals.

“She said earlier she could come by around four-ish.” I peek at my watch. “So, anytime now.”

“Come by when she gets here. I have the keys in my office and the rest of the paperwork for you.” He pats me on the shoulder and begins to make his way out of the locker room.

“Hey, Coach?” He stops and turns back to me. “Thank you,” I say, sincerely.

He knows what I mean. Thank you for believing in me, trusting me, taking a risk, giving me a chance. Everything.

He nods.

“Coach Raymer, this is my wife, Ember,” I introduce them as we walk into his office.

She holds her hand out to him as he stands, rounds his desk, then pulls her into a fatherly hug.

I try not to take it personally, but when we first met, I walked into his office, he gave me a strangers handshake, and told me to “sit”.

Ember’s smile is wide and absolutely stunning as she thanks him for having her here.

“So, you are the magical creature that tamed Burnsy here, huh?” He pulls her chair out for her to sit.

She glances at me, attempting to hide both a smile and a scowl .

“I suppose I did, sir.”

“Oh, enough with the ‘sir’ stuff. Please call me John.” My jaw slacks a bit at how easy going he is, and I can’t help but chime in here.

“John...?” I clarify out loud. If someone asked me what his first name is, it would take me a moment to remember because everyone knows him as Coach or Coach Raymer.

“No, not you. She can call me John. You call me Coach.” Great. My coach likes my wife better than he likes me.

They fall into conversation easily about random topics, and I just sit back and observe. I can’t help but notice how she just... fits. I know a part of her is playing the part for me, but she is so likable, it’s effortless for people to fall in love with her.

She’s completely engaged in conversation with him, her hands are animated, and she’s laughing. God, she’s beautiful.

The more she smiles, the more the invisible band around my chest tightens with unknown anxiety. Our time is so limited. After this meeting, she’ll probably never see Coach—John, internal eye roll—again. She’ll work and find a place, and we’ll end up going our separate ways. At least, that’s how she probably envisions it.

Then later, I’ll have to tell my team we’re separated, and Coach Raymer will be incredibly disappointed in me. How come she has to be so damn likable?

We’ve had one day together, technically an overnight, and I already know I want more.

“I truly believe behind every good man is a great woman. That’s clear here, isn’t it, Burnsy?” he asks, turning to me, still smiling from an Ember high.

She looks over at me and mouths, Burnsy , with an adorable face.

“Absolutely, Coach. She is truly my better half,” I reply, staring straight back at her .

I want to keep going. I want to say, I can’t imagine my life without her. Can’t imagine another day without her smile, her laugh, the sound of her voice or the touch of her skin. I never want to know what it feels like to go one day without talking to her. Instead, I smile at her and lean over the armrest of our chairs, kissing her on the temple, because I’ll use any excuse to touch her.

Her body leans into me, naturally. Like she’s finally letting loose and relaxing a little.

“I’ve been married for over thirty years. My wife made me the man I am today. Marriage is a partnership that too many young people take for granted and walk away from at the first hurdle.” He is shuffling a few papers around his desk, grabbing a couple of pens out of their holder and pressing into the top, exposing the ink point.

“Giving up on your marriage is like giving up on your team, a commitment you devoted to yourself and others. When someone decides to take back vows, destroy promises and break bonds they’ve made, well, let’s just say, I question the loyalty and values of someone who is coward enough to divorce.”

Luckily, Coach is engrossed in the paperwork on his desk because Ember’s eyes turn to the size of serving dishes as my mouth becomes its own sinkhole.

Jesus. I mean, that’s pretty fucking judgmental. What if someone cheats? Or, like Seamus’s parents, his mother was abused by her husband. That excuse for a human being drank himself half to death every night, and the nights he wasn’t too far gone, he was strong enough, and sober enough, to beat her.

I agree, divorce is used too heavily these days, but there are reasons for a divorce.

Ember falls completely silent, turns her head just slightly in my direction, and peers at me through her periphery. I smile, even though I’m not sure she can actually see it. So, I reach over, grab her hand, and bring the knuckles that she was rubbing nervously against my lips, grazing a kiss over the peaks.

“Both our parents are great examples for us, Coach.” I leave it at that in hopes it will end his current rant.

Fortunately, it does, and he slides the paperwork he was just shuffling around directly in front of us. He grabs two pens, laying one on either side of the paperwork, one for us each, which already feels like a separation I hate.

I grab mine and place it back in his pen holder. Then I grab hers and hold out for her to take from my palm. “Ladies first.”

She purses her lips before a pierced smile crosses her face, then takes the pen between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Now, keep in mind, the leasehold rules are set. You are both required to occupy the condo together at all times. The purpose of these properties is for the team to live close to the stadium, but also close to the families.” He weaves his fingers together, holding his own hand in front of the paperwork. “Ember, you know what you were getting into marrying a baseball player. His schedule is going to be incredibly invasive between practices and games. Plus, all the travel during the away games. It’s good you’ll have the other wives around, living in the condo, during those times. Also, we have a lot of events throughout the season. Charities, fundraisers, PR events, things we do together as a team. A family. I expect you both to attend together as often as possible for those events.”

Well, shit. After her confession this morning, I might have to chain her to my bed now. I asked her to be a doting wife for a day. I had no idea Coach would be so adamant about the accountability of his players and their significant others.

My entire body is on the verge of a panic attack, and the lack of oxygen from holding my breath is making my hands tingle. I’m questioning whether or not I’m having an actual heart attack .

“I set this up like this to create camaraderie within the team and for the wives and girlfriends of our players, because I remember how difficult it was for my wife. I fully expect you to both be present and incorporate yourselves into the team. The wives and girlfriends often travel with us, and I fully promote that.” Coach pauses, then looks directly at me. “I’m investing in you. I expect the same in return.”

I look down at Ember’s shoes, and thankfully, she’s wearing high heels. I’d definitely be able to catch her if she physically started running. I glance up to see her appraising the pen, then peer down at the signature line of the document, then she swivels her neck as her eyes meet mine.

My heart rate is completely out of control. She could put down that pen and walk away. She has no obligation to me, to us, to any of this.

My eyes are begging a silent plea. Please stay.

I reach for her free hand, wrapping my pinky around hers.

Her eyes are so fucking sad. Like she already knows she’s going to break my heart.

She looks at our pinkies dancing together, then her gaze returns to the pen, and with a short exhale, she leans forward to the desk. My stomach plummets to the floor when it looks like she is going to place the pen down, but instead, she presses the ink point to the paper and scribbles quickly, then hands the pen to me.

I take the pen out of her hand and quickly scribble my signature next to hers, my eyes on her the entire time.

“Thank you, Coach,” I say, setting the pen down before we both stand together. “We’ll get our things moved into the condo this weekend.” He reaches out to shake my hand, eyeing us both. I pull her into me, wrapping my arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“Take the weekend to get settled in and explore Seattle. Report back on Monday. ”

“Thank you, sir, will do,” I reply, guiding Ember out of his office as I follow behind her. Each step fills me with relief as we get closer to exiting the stadium and into the parking lot.

The relief is short-lived, because the moment she closes the door to the passenger side of my truck, everything she was able to hold back comes out.