1. Urban

CHAPTER 1

URBAN

T his game is such bullshit sometimes.

Or that was what I loved to tell myself whenever I was in a slump or, honestly, at the most minor inconvenience. Baseball was in my blood, it should have been easy, yet I hadn't had a single hit in five fucking games. Walked like four times, but no hit.

Bob, the general manager, sat across from me in his office after I was called up here. Not usually the best sign but I wasn't worried. The place was too brown. Light brown at that, but it was like absolutely no imagination went into decorating the place. Bob was still in good shape, unlike most general managers. Most let themselves go once they got the job, if they ever had it in the first place, but not him. He worked out in the team facilities almost as much as the players did.

"You've been traded," Bob finally said.

"What?" I assumed this had to be a joke. Players didn't just get traded without knowing it was a possibility. Our agents should've at least been in on it, and I hadn't heard a peep from mine.

"Harden hasn't had a chance to call you." It wasn't a question, but it was the answer to my unspoken question.

Harden has been my agent for a few years now. Originally, he wasn't. My dad had pushed us to sign with one of his friends, but the minute I'd gotten drafted and left Kalamazoo, I'd changed agents. I wanted to cut all ties to my father, where baseball was concerned. Hell, I barely spoke to him outside of baseball, either.

Since Bob hadn't asked a question, I tightened my jaw so that I wouldn't give him the response I wanted to. A response that could cause me major problems.

I was pissed. But I was also in a slump, which made it hard to argue.

Did being in a slump mean that I was hearing from my brothers every fucking day? Yeah. It did. That was how this worked. Having all of your brothers also be professional ball players meant you caught shit when things weren't going the best. Like they never hit a slump. Assholes. But fuck. This was the next level.

"I'm sorry to see you go, Briggs, but it had to be done." Bob sat back and pressed his fingers together under his chin like he was some villain in a movie, and I had yet to utter a word. "You're valuable."

And to them, I was a commodity.

"Right." I cleared my throat to prevent myself from unleashing the torrent of words that were sitting there waiting for him to hear like little friends listening to some gossip. "Where am I going?"

Bob took a deep breath. How he did it made me think he was biding time or soaking up these last seconds, leaving my stomach tight. Either way, I wasn't going to like the answer.

There was only one team that I thought would have him acting that way.

"We're getting a pitcher, Sands, and three prospects," he said as if defending the decision without telling me what it was. "Two of those are pitchers. You know that's our weakness right now."

Through clenched teeth, I asked again, "Where am I going? "

He ran a hand across his chin before saying, "Kalamazoo."

"Fuck that," I spat, unable to keep it in any longer as I launched from the chair. "I'm not going to Kalamazoo."

"You are," he countered. "You don't have a right of refusal in your contract. Maybe that's something you can work into your next one. Your contract expires at the end of this year. You had to know this was coming. You're expensive, and we have a great backup first baseman." His gaze met mine. "Or a great first baseman now. He's not you. You don't have to tell me that, but he's the next best thing."

"Kalamazoo? Really, Bob?" This feeling that I was about to come out of my skin surged. If I didn't get out of there soon, I'd do something I'd regret. Something really stupid. "Every single person who knows anything knows that's the last place I want to be."

"They approached us." He shook his head. "It's a deal we couldn't afford to refuse."

"Yeah, right." I got to the door, yanked it open, and let it slam against the wall as I left.

"Get it in your next contract," he called out. He couldn't see the middle finger I raised over my shoulder at him.

Yeah. Fuck that. My next contract would be negotiated with my damn mother. Scratch that. I'd have Harden get me somewhere else next year.

I could do one year in Kalamazoo. One year. I could do anything for a year, right? It's not even an entire year. The part that wouldn't suck was that, for the rest of the season, I'd be playing with two of my brothers. That, I could get behind. Being back under my father's thumb… wasn't fucking going to happen.

After leaving Bob's office, I stomped my way back down to the clubhouse. If I was off the team, I needed to clean out my locker for the next guy to take. That was how it was in baseball. I blamed this slump. Maybe if I'd had a hit, they wouldn't have traded me.

Everyone hit a slump. It'd been five games. Nothing more. My bat had cooled, that was all. I had a plan to fix it. Now it didn't matter because I was going to be on a plane to Kalamazoo today.

This was the worst fucking part of baseball.

I was a twenty-four-year-old grown-ass man. Which meant I was just being a whiny bitch about this whole thing. But our dad was an asshole and rode the four of us boys harder than a pack of mules on the baseball conveyer belt that he'd set up.

The door to the clubhouse slammed against the wall when I opened it more aggressively than I'd needed to. Luckily, the clubhouse had mostly cleared out, except for Jared, our second baseman. He jumped in surprise.

He was a few inches shorter than me and had the blond hair, blue eyed thing that women swooned for.

"Tough game," he said as he pulled his shirt down over his chest.

"Yeah." I stopped at my locker, which was next to his. Ours were large, though, not like the shit in the locker room in high school or college.

I'd been drafted to a minor league team in California—the other side of the country from my dad, which had been fine with me. However, I'd been traded to Florida before I'd gotten called up. Still the other end of the country from Michigan, just a different end. Our team wasn't the best in the league, but it was building. I was supposed to be part of that build. Most of the time, I was one of the best players on the team, even if I wasn't the best player among the brothers. However, that was a hard comparison to make. We'd played together since we could walk. The best of the brothers changed with the day.

"What are you so pissy about?"

"I got traded," I said flatly. Jared opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't let him. "Want to guess to where?"

"No fucking way."

"My feelings exactly." I yanked a duffle big enough to put my shit in out of my locker. "Bob said they made the team an offer they couldn't refuse."

Jared's eyes grew wider. "Fuck. It better have been good."

"You're getting Sands and three prospects. I think he said two are pitchers." Not that I necessarily paid attention given the rage making me hear my heart pulse in my ears as I sat across from him.

"Oh, shit." His tone told me that he, too, felt it was an offer they couldn't refuse. If I looked at it strictly from a baseball point of view, it was. This team needed pitchers. It was their weak spot, and getting potentially three while only having to sacrifice me—it made sense.

Didn't mean I liked it.

"Did you tell your agent that Kalamazoo was the one place you never wanted to go? "

I nodded. "It's not in my contract, though. I don't get to refuse."

"Right." He blew out a breath. "Well, fuck. Drinks tonight? Like a going away? When do you leave?"

As if Jared had summoned the gods, my phone vibrated. After pulling it out of my pocket, I opened the message. It was from Harden, my agent… and there wouldn't be time for drinks. There rarely ever was in a situation like this.

"Plane leaves in four hours," I told him. "I have to go pack up the shit I need to take with me today."

"Right." He reached a hand out for me to shake, and I took it, and then we pulled in for a guy hug. He patted my back, then hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and left me to clean out my damn life.

Minutes later, I was walking out to my car, knowing that the next time I was inside this stadium, it would be as a visitor. A weird feeling settled in my chest. This was the only major league park that had been home my entire career. Granted, that had only been, like, four years. Where I was headed was likely the source of the tightness in my chest, not where I was leaving. I loved it here, sure, but leaving had always been a possibility, and now it was a reality.

Damn, I wished I had time to drive my car up to Michigan, but no. When you were traded, your ass was on a plane that day. Luckily, the team I was leaving would send movers to pack up my apartment and ship everything I didn't take with me today—including my car.

Two hours later, I had a couple of bags packed with my clothes and baseball shit since that went with me. Players didn't break in new gloves just because they'd moved. Then I had a carry-on and dropped my keys on the counter with the list I made of what needed to be shipped and where. I put my brother Brooks's address because I had no idea where I was going to be living and his house had a large enough garage as well as a basement to store everything when it showed up. The Knights would have somewhere for me to stay temporarily.

Whatever. It was my first time doing this, but hopefully not my last and I wasn't leaving behind anything I cared about. There was a model, Analise, that I'd hooked up with for a while but even that had ended.

The rideshare took me to the airport, where I checked my bags and then waited to board. The airport was so busy that I made sure to get to my gate so I wouldn't miss the flight. Harden had gotten me first-class tickets—probably funded by my mother personally and not the team—and I fought the urge to call and rip Harden a new one. No. It was better that we texted for now, so I ignored his call when he tried getting in touch.

This wasn't his fault. He'd asked me if I wanted the right to refuse a trade, but I'd said no . I'd been focused on the bigger payday that had come with the contract my team had offered. At that time, I'd been in the minor leagues, so the idea of being on the Knights hadn't been front and center.

Instead, I texted him that things were fine. I didn't want to talk right now and really didn't want to take my anger out on him.

But we'd do better next time, and at least there was a provision in my contract that meant I'd be getting paid more with the trade. Any team I was traded to had to up my pay.

That only lessened the blow a little bit.

Once I was settled on the plane, I tried to relax. It might be the last moment of relaxation I got. First class wasn't sold out so aside from having plenty of legroom, I had some peace.

The Knights weren't a bad team. In fact, they were a pretty great team. It was also my grandpa's team. Those were the positives.

Grandpa had bought the Knights a long time ago. Before my mom had been born, even. Since she was an only child, he'd had his sights set on her taking it over when he was done. I'd thought that meant when he died, but he hadn't been well and was too old to keep up with all of the day-to-day shit. So Mom had taken over quite a few years ago.

Whether she'd supported my dad's quest for us to be ballplayers, I didn't know. At the very least, she didn't object to it and she was proud of us when we did well. She probably would've also have been proud of us doing well in any area we chose. Luckily for him, my brothers and I loved playing. He saw it as a feather in his cap that we had all been good enough to be drafted.

Brooks, the oldest at twenty-seven, the catcher, had been drafted right onto the Knights and was still there. Once one of us was on the team, it would be damn near impossible to get traded. I was going to have to try like hell at the end of this season. Brooks was happy there. He'd told my dad to fuck off, and Dad didn't play a part of any of our careers anymore, unless you counted getting us all onto the Knights. That was his dream these days .

Though I couldn't be sure, Mom probably wouldn't do it if it didn't make sense for the team. She was a master at putting Dad in his place about the business. She was running it. Not him. Period.

Then Silas ended up on the Knights a couple of years ago. He was twenty-five, a second baseman, which they'd needed after their veteran had gotten a career-ending injury. Silas had also become the first of us to find their forever person. He was with Amity Kincaid now, a woman we'd known since we were all kids.

My younger brother, Cobb, was a pitching powerhouse. He was insanely good and would be the most resistant to fulfilling Dad's dream of having his legacy all on the same team. Dad was in the Hall of Fame. Apparently, that wasn't enough.

Our little sister, Camden, had come along and ruined his plan of having all boys who played baseball. He loved her… I thought he loved all of us… He just had a weird way of showing it.

Fuck . This flight gave me too much time to think.

Almost as soon as I stepped off the plane and headed to baggage claim, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I should've predicted my mother was probably tracking the damn plane so she could call as soon as I touched the ground.

"Hey," I answered.

"I know you're pissed," she told me. "I'm sorry about the way this happened, but I saw an opportunity and jumped. I also didn't want to give you the chance to say no."

I sighed. Mom was a gem. She wanted us to be happy but also had a business to run. Besides, if she'd asked me and I said no, would she have listened? The mom side would have but I didn't think the GM of the Kalamazoo Knights side could. "I know, Mom."

"Are you happy to be home? Even a little?" she asked as I pulled a bag off the conveyor belt.

"No," I told her honestly. "It'll be nice to see you and Camden, but no. You know this is the last place I wanted to play." My second suitcase came racing toward me. I grabbed that one and pulled it off, too.

"We're a pretty good team, Urban. You can't let the strain between you and your dad hold you back on anything." She wasn't wrong but it was the last thing I wanted to hear.

I turned and almost ran right into a man in a black suit. "Fuck." The word tumbled out of my mouth. Mom chuckled on the other end.

"I'm assuming Emmet found you."

"I'm thinking he did. You need to make him wear a bell."

"Good. He can get you to the apartment. I got you one not too far from Brook's house. I thought you'd like that." Papers shuffled on the other end. "Emmet has a key, and it's already furnished. We can change anything you don't like. I rented it for you but it you want to stay there, we'll switch everything to your name, so it's yours. I know you won't want to keep it in mine."

She was right. Part of having those boundaries with my dad was keeping things separate. Not that any of us cared about the money. We'd grown up with more than anyone needed and got paid obscene amounts to play a game. Money wasn't the issue.

"So it's not the team apartment that you always use?" Because the Knight had a place that they rented for scouts, visitors, players who abruptly got traded and needed a little while to get everything in place. It was basically a Kalamazoo Knight AirBNB .

"No. This is separate because I want you to be comfortable."

I snorted. "That's special treatment, Mother."

She sighed her frustration at me. "Urban… you're right. It is. Sue me. I wanted to do something nice for my kid. If you don't want it—"

I snickered. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Until the end of the season, right?" My mom knew us all so well. She knew us as men and as players, and she'd automatically realize I'd want to move to another team at the end of the year, given that it was unlikely I'd be traded twice a season, even if it was early. Still, I remained silent. There was no need to confirm what she already knew.

She sighed again. When we were kids, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose a lot. "Well, enjoy playing with your brothers the rest of the season," she told me. "And go get settled. I'll see you tomorrow."

Which meant she'd be at the ballpark.

After getting my things in the car, Emmet maneuvered us through traffic. The Knights had a night game, which meant traffic was crazy in that area, which happened to not be far from the building Mom had put me in.

This would at least give me a few hours before my brothers descended because there was no doubt that would be happening tonight.

It also gave me time to think things through and make some plans.

Like not creating a life here that I wouldn't be able to walk away from in a few months.

Because leaving Kalamazoo was now my longer-term priority.