36. Riggs

THIRTY-SIX

RIGGS

"Have a seat. We'll call you in a few minutes," Mr. Durst's assistant says, gesturing toward the waiting area outside his office. I spent the entire morning racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to fix this shitstorm without having to get anybody else involved. I even went as far as dropping down to the security manager's office in my building to ask a few questions. Monroe's worst fears were confirmed when he told me that none of the cameras lining the hallways capture audio. I didn't dig any further because if the video surfaces before I get a chance to at least try to control the situation, I can kiss my career goodbye.

Which is exactly why I'm here.

Knowing I was out of options, I decided to throw up one last Hail Mary before pulling the pin and tossing a grenade that's sure to blow up my entire life. If it doesn't work, my endgame really doesn't change since the most important thing here is that she doesn't go back to California. But I have to try to save my job .

Minutes go by as my anxiety builds, wondering if I made a mistake by even coming today. Although I've been trying to do better, my track record with this team isn't great, and I have no idea if being here will make the situation better or worse.

"C'mon in, Riggs," Mr. Durst's voice rings through the room, startling me. I stand, shaking out my arms in an attempt to rid my body of the jitters, but it's a lost cause. I feel like every one of my bones is vibrating as nervousness passes through me, terrified of what this meeting will bring. I love baseball and I don't want to give it up, but if I have to choose between the game and Monroe, I'll pick her every time. It's not even close.

"What brings you in today?" he asks as I round the chair opposite his, sitting down and wiping my sweaty palms along my pant legs. I know I need to be honest here, but the whole situation isn't pretty. I'm not innocent. The parts of the video that are going to matter show exactly what happened. I shoved her dad. I towered over him, barely restraining myself as I threatened him. Even though the words I said will never be heard, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Sir, I want to say thank you for continuously giving me chances with this team, even when I didn't deserve them. I appreciate that more than you'll ever know." I swallow the lump in my throat as he leans back, the leather of his chair groaning as he relaxes against it. He purses his lips and raises a questioning brow, urging me to go on.

"There's a video of me that's about to be released, and it looks really bad." I pause, shaking my head. "It is really bad. But I wanted to tell you about it myself before it makes its way around the internet. I've given you no reason to believe anything I say, but you deserve to know that the guy you've continued to support isn't the one you're about to see."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he says, prompting me to pull my phone out of my pocket. I cue up the video I had Monroe send me, pressing play before reaching across his desk and handing it to him. He watches, and I can tell the moment it happens because he shakes his head in disappointment.

Fuck.

"Who is he?" he asks, looking up at me. I'm surprised he's giving me a chance to explain, and I'm going to make sure he has the whole story before he decides what to do with me. He may toss my ass out of here either way, but I'll go down fighting.

"Monroe's dad," I reply. "He slipped past security and said some repulsive things to her. I overheard it and reacted on instinct. I shoved him and told him I'd kill him if he ever tried to contact her again, and now he's threatening to release this video and drag me through the mud unless she moves back to California. I know I was wrong, sir. But I can't apologize. He deserved all of that and more," I say, gesturing to the phone he still has clutched in his hand. "If it costs me my career, so be it. I love her and I'll protect her until the day I die. Absolutely nothing is more important to me than she is."

He reaches forward, returning the device to me before sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. Sweat beads at the back of my neck, and my mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls as he stares at me in silence. It seems like hours have gone by before an ear-to-ear grin erupts across his face. I look around the empty room, attempting to figure out why he isn't ripping me a new asshole, but I find nothing. At least, not until he speaks.

"It's about time," he laughs, clapping his hands slowly. I scratch at my cheek, unsure of what to say because I have no idea what he means. Shutting the fuck up has worked for me so far, so that's what I do while he continues.

"Since the day we drafted you, I've been waiting for you to show me the kind of man you are. You hit speed bump after speed bump along the way, but deep down, I knew that the Riggs Valentine I saw through the media's lens wasn't the whole story. You may not think anyone noticed the way you got to know each and every employee at this stadium your rookie year. Or how you sincerely enjoy connecting with the fans, even when there aren't any cameras around to capture it. You remind me so much of myself when I was your age, so I knew we'd get another side of you eventually. When I first met Monroe, I felt it in my soul that she would be the one to bring it out of you. I'm so glad she finally did."

My brows pull in tightly. "Wait," I choke out. "You're not going to fire me?"

"Do you want me to?" he asks.

I bark a laugh. "Respectfully, sir. Fuck no. I love this team, and I want to continue being a part of it."

He gives me a tight nod. "Alright, then. I'll do what I can to control the narrative of this situation. Hopefully, we can keep the fans on our side. But either way, this organization has your back. As long as you promise to take care of your family, we're proud to have you."

"Absolutely, sir. I won't let you down," I say, relief washing over me. I was hoping this meeting would end on a positive note, but I definitely didn't expect it to go this well. Any other team in the league would have told me to pack my shit, but Mr. Durst values things in this life that are more important than money and winning. For that, I'll always be grateful.

I extend a hand between us, and he shakes it before I turn and walk out of the room with a renewed sense of belonging as a member of the Daytona Fury family. None of my past fuck-ups matter to me anymore. The only thing I want to focus on moving forward is being the best player, teammate, and partner I can be. The people who have stood by and supported me deserve that. Nobody more so than the woman I love.