Chapter 17
[Ford]
Suspicious eyes watch me as well as whispers follow when I enter the locker room.
“Was that Cadence?
“Is he dating her?”
“She’s so fine.”
“Is that a smile?”
I smile wider at Hodge’s question, but the grin is wiped clean from my face when Romero speaks.
“I’d tap that.”
I’m dropping my bat bag and rushing him so fast it takes three guys to hold me back so my fist doesn’t connect with his face. My shoulder screams. I’m typically not so aggressive but everything about this guy rubs me the wrong way.
“Valdez. Sylver. My office now.”
There is no way I’ll enter the coach’s office with Romero beside me. Sensing my opinion, Kip Garcia, a pitching coach, steps in and tugs Romero in the opposite direction.
Shrugging off the guys holding me, I lower my head and follow our manager to his office.
I collapse into a chair in front of his desk while he rounds it and takes a seat facing me. He removes his cap, tosses it on the desk, and swipes both hands down his face. Leaning forward, he crosses his arms on the desktop and looks to his right, taking a deep breath before he speaks.
“This isn’t an ideal situation.”
I snort. He’s got that right.
“But we’re a team.” He redirects his gaze to me.
With my heart still racing, I hear what he isn’t saying even if I don’t want to accept the words. Team. We play like a machine.
With another exhale, his shoulders lower. “I get it, though. I have three kids.” He unfolds his arms and stretches them to fold his hands on the desk. “And when Patty died, I was beside myself.”
“Felicity isn’t dead,” I grouse, feeling sympathy for my coach, though. He’d been roughly my age when he lost his wife.
“But she might as well be, right?” He pauses, letting it sink in that he hasn’t missed her absence for me and her presence for someone else on our team. “Perhaps you have it worse.”
Because she’s still alive and purposely absent from my children’s lives.
“I told Valdez she wasn’t allowed to attend today.
Strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a player.
” Ross sits back, defeat in his body language.
“But we don’t need that kind of media circus.
Your personal life is yours. And while privacy seems to be a privilege the press doesn’t always respect, I was still trying to spare your feelings. ”
Saving face wasn’t up to my coach. We had a publicity department for those things, and I had an agent to help as well, but I am not ready to make a statement or publicly announce my marital status, as if explaining I’m divorced and why is necessary.
“However, when that personal life interferes with the team, I have to make a decision.”
My attention piques and I lower my elbows to my thighs, holding my breath. Ross could go several directions with his decision. Release Romero. Or worse, release me.
“You’ve been a valuable player and a valued member of this program.”
Fuck, he’s letting me go.
“As a veteran and a captain, I need you to keep your head together and your heart in the game as best you can. Step up like the man I know you to be.”
Silence follows, but I’m certain my coach can hear my heart thundering. I lower my head for half a second, taking a deep breath of relief that I’m not getting canned.
“When I lost Patty, I thought about quitting.”
My head pops up, fingers against my mouth. Is he asking me to quit instead? I can’t do it. I’m not a quitter. My heart sprints once again.
Ross exhales. “In my grief, losing baseball would have been the last thing I needed.”
Same. I couldn’t lose my team.
“Instead, I left the field and accepted a coaching position. I went home.”
I sit up again, knowing coach’s story. A native of Philadelphia, their program welcomed him, and he joined the coaching staff there, working his way to manager in a few short years.
“Are you saying I should quit?”
Ross’s eyes narrow, leaning forward once again. “I’d never say that.”
“I can’t exactly put in for a trade to a team in West Virginia.
” The state doesn’t have a professional baseball team.
Or any professional ball teams for that matter.
The closest I could get to home within the Anchors organization is a double-A team in Knoxville, and I didn’t want to be sent down a level. Or three.
“You have two years left in your contract and I plan to honor the time.” Ross’s eyes drop to my left shoulder. “How’s the arm?”
“I’m good.” My coach narrows his eyes once more and I amend my answer. “It hurts like a mothertrucker, but nothing a little ice won’t help.” And a shit ton of ibuprofen.
Ross nods once and clasps his hands together again. “That’s what I thought. I want a full examination. I know there have been issues in the past and physical therapy helped. You might need it again.”
“But PT will put me on the IL.” Injury list.
“And I can’t have an injured player during the regular season. Get that checked.” He nods once more at my shoulder. “I also need someone with a clear head. I’m recommending a talk with the team shrink.”
“Coach,” I groan.
“Head and heart.” Ross touches each before pointing at me. “And a fully working arm.”
I place my hands on the arm rest of the chair, think better of the position for my shoulder, and lower my hands to my lap again. “What about Romero?”
Ross watches me a long second before saying, “Let’s try to make Romero not your problem.”
I don’t understand how that can happen, but I nod and stand. Holding out my hand to shake Ross’s, he stands as well.
“One more thing.” He keeps my hand clasped in his. “Was that Cadence? My children are fans.”
I chuckle lightly without directly answering his question. “You want an autograph or something.”
“Want to know if you knocked the snot out of that ball to impress a girl?” he asks, still holding onto my hand.
I laugh harder. “Actually, I was envisioning Romero but if it worked on the girl, I wouldn’t be upset.”
Ross finally releases my hand. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble impressing her, Sylver.”
I turn and take one step away before Ross calls my name once more.
“Oh, and Ford? Remember us baseball players have our superstitions. Who knows? That girl might bring you a little luck.”
I might agree.