Chapter 28 - Reese
Reese
“We’re the laughingstock of the league right now!” Scott yells, standing from his seat at the conference table.
“Do you understand what you’ve done, young lady?” That’s Phil joining in.
Two more of the advisory board members tack on something about being disappointed in me and blah blah blah . . .
At this point, I’m kind of over it. I didn’t call this advisory meeting, and anything they have to say, I’ve already heard it this week.
I also don’t really care.
Of course, I want Milo to do well. I want our team to succeed. But I’ve given up on trying to make everyone happy. I made the trade I saw best for our future and I’m sticking by it.
My eyes drift to Ed. Sweet Ed who has had nothing but encouragement for me this week. He offers a smile full of apology for his fellow board members.
“Well.” I stand from my seat. “If you’re all done treating me like a child, I’m going to go now.
” Grabbing my bag, I head for the door of the conference room.
“I’ll see you tonight at my grandfather’s retirement party, where I’m sure you’ll all pretend you didn’t just spend the entire morning disrespecting me in my building regarding the team that I own. ”
I push the door open, but Scott stops me in the doorway.
“How do you sleep at night knowing the entire league thinks you’re running your team into the ground, Reese?”
Man, the fucking gall of this guy.
I contemplate his question. “Usually with a fan on. Thermostat set to sixty-seven, and like a fucking baby. Thanks for asking.”
Ed laughs but tries to cover it with a cough, and with that final word, I leave.
Now that some time has passed and we’ve made it back home, there’s definitely more confidence in the way I walk down the hall. I’m caring less about what everyone else has to say and more about what I think regarding the situation.
I’ve adopted this “me against the world” attitude that’s been working well for me, but there’s even more conviction behind the sentiment knowing it’s not just me. It’s Emmett too. And, even more so, it’s the players having my back as well.
Every single one of them who’s been interviewed this week has stood up for me publicly.
And what I once thought might be rehearsed lines their field manager told them what to say, I now realize are their own words.
Their own convictions. It’s obvious in the way they’ve been ripping reporters to shreds if asked a disrespectful question regarding me.
So, I suppose it’s the Warriors against the world. And that feels like a pretty good position to be in.
Tonight is my grandfather’s retirement party, and after making it through a rough week, Emmett canceled today’s practice to give the boys a break, while I gave the front-office staff the day off to get ready for tonight.
Everyone will be in attendance later, so I’m hoping a day away from the field and a late-night party will act as a reset for everyone.
Though no one else is working today, I always planned to. What I didn’t expect when I showed up to work was that I’d end up in an advisory board meeting that Scott called as if he had the authority to do so.
I don’t have it in me for any of them to corner me in my office, so with the building to myself until the party planners start showing up in a few hours, I decide to hide out in the dugout for a bit. At least until the board members can get in their cars and leave.
It’s peacefully quiet on the clubhouse level, a stark contrast to most days during the season. And I revel in the rare silence.
That is, until I’m startled with an overly cheery, “Hi, Reese!”
Isaiah jogs to meet me on my way outside.
Stopping in my tracks, I look back in the direction he came from, trying to piece together where the hell he just popped out of.
“Hey.” My tone is laced with confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“Just using the restroom.”
That earns a brow lift. “Which one?”
“C’mon, Reese. Not that one.” His smile turns cheeky. “My wife isn’t here.”
I don’t give myself time to think about what those two may or may not have done in there over the years. “I mean what are you doing here? At the field. Don’t you have the day off?”
“Oh.” We start walking together down the tunnel to head outside. “Monty asked a few of us to help him out for a couple of hours.”
“Help him out with what?” But as soon as I step out into the dugout, my question is answered for me.
Out on the field, the portable batting cage is set up behind home plate.
Milo has his batting helmet on, taking swings off Kai Rhodes’ full-speed pitches.
Travis is padded up and catching for his previous pitcher.
Meanwhile, Cody and Emmett are leaning behind the cage, giving the new kid pointers on his swing.
“Well, I guess technically we’re helping out Milo,” Isaiah explains. “Monty called this morning to see if we could get together. He’s trying to get his confidence up before the next game.”
Well, shit.
And to think, there was a time I convinced myself I didn’t like the team’s field manager.
“Did he now?”
“Kid’s got potential.” Isaiah bumps his arm against my shoulder. “I think you made the right call.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’ll make sure everyone else realizes it too. Don’t worry.”
With that carefree statement, he jogs out to the field to join the rest of the guys, going to the far side of the cage and leaning against it next to Cody.
It’d probably be smart of me to head back upstairs to my office instead of walking out there to join them, because I’m fairly certain if I get too close I might just grab Emmett by the shirt and press my mouth against his to say thank you.
On their day off, he got his guys together to give Milo a confidence boost. He even got his star pitcher out of retirement for it.
Screw it. I’m not going back to my office.
I take the steps up the dugout stairs, walking on the balls of my feet when I hit the field so my stilettos don’t sink into the grass. Emmett is on the near side of the batting cage, so that’s where I go. Like a moth to a flame these days.
As I cross the field, I watch as Kai throws a nasty slider. Milo simply stares as it flies past him and into Travis’s glove.
“At least get a swing on it, Jones!” Cody calls out from behind the netting.
“It’s Kai Rhodes.” Milo points his bat toward the pitching mound. “You try getting a swing off him.”
Kai laughs. “Thanks, kid.”
“Yeah,” Cody says dryly. “I used to do just that. Literally last season.”
“He’s old and retired now,” Isaiah taunts. “The guy ain’t shit! Take a swing!”
Isaiah’s brother gives him his middle finger as Travis tosses his pitcher the ball back.
“Milo,” Emmett says just as I join him at his side. “If you can get a hit off Kai, you can hit off any pitcher in this league. You got it?”
“And if I can’t?”
“Well, that’s not exactly an option you have.”
I fold my forearms over the metal framing behind the net, mirroring Emmett’s stance.
He looks down at me with a soft smile. “Hey, you.”
“How’s this going?”
Milo squares up for the next pitch as Travis signals to Kai. Milo swings, and it’s a beautiful swing, but his timing is completely off as he misses entirely.
“Shit,” he grumbles right after it lands in the center of Travis’s glove again.
“It’s going,” Emmett mutters.
Emmett doesn’t give any advice, and I think that’s done purposefully to see how Milo will handle his own mistake.
Milo immediately gets back into the batters’ box and squares up for the next pitch.
When Kai releases the next one, anyone could see that it’s going to be a ball that’s curving wide to the left. But Milo reaches out of his pocket to swing for it and misses.
“You’re chasing bad balls,” Emmett calls out.
Milo immediately gets back into position for the next one.
“Step out. Take a breath. Fix your gloves. Anything that will separate you from that last pitch. You chased it because you were frustrated about the previous one. Reset yourself before it snowballs.”
Milo’s frustration is evident as he takes his coach’s advice, stepping out of the box and exhaling a deep breath. He gives himself plenty of time and I can see him mentally trying to re-center himself.
“I’m not just saying this to boost your ego,” Emmett continues. “But your mechanics are perfect.”
Isaiah scoffs from the other side of the cage. “You’ve never said that to me, Monty.”
“Yeah, that’s because they’re not.”
A smile cracks on Milo’s lips.
“It’s all mental,” Emmett goes on. “You’re in your head.
Everyone here can see that you’re intimidated right now.
It’s the same way you looked during the game the other night, but there’s nothing to be intimidated about here.
This is just practice. No one is watching.
Who cares if you mess up. You’re getting to swing off a guy you idolize, but he’s not on the other team.
So, show him what you got and let it rip. ”
Milo nods, stepping back into the batters’ box, and it’s clear from his relaxed stance that he’s already calmer.
Travis gives his pitcher a signal and Kai winds up, delivering a fastball right down the pipe, almost identical to the one that finished our last game with Milo at bat.
The crack of the bat is almost deafening as it echoes throughout the otherwise silent stadium.
“Holy shit,” Travis mutters from behind the plate, throwing off his face mask to watch as the ball sails through the air, scaling over the ivy in center field.
There’s an unmistakable thud when the ball hits metal, landing somewhere in the upper bleachers.
Every one of us is silent as we stare out into the distance in disbelief.
“I just hit a homer off Kai Rhodes.” Milo’s voice is laced with awe as he looks around for our approval, but we’re all still staring out over four hundred yards away.
Emmett looks to his former ace pitcher. “You take anything off that?”
Kai shakes his head, brows raised and thoroughly impressed.
“I just hit a homer off Kai Rhodes,” Milo repeats.
“Hell yeah you did,” Emmett says. I can almost see the relief wash over him. “Now do it again.”
Milo’s energy is instantly lighter as he resets himself for another pitch.
“That’s how he looked the day we went and watched him play in Vegas,” I say quietly to the man next to me.
“He’ll get back there. He’s just having a crisis of confidence.”
“I know a thing or two about those, don’t I?”
Emmett chuckles, head resting on his crossed arms when he looks over at me. “You look good.”
“I’m feeling better.”
“Good.”
I knock my shoulder into his and it does absolutely nothing to move the brick wall that is Emmett Montgomery. “This is sweet of you, by the way. To do this for him.”
“Yeah, well, I’d be lying if I said he was my motivation here.”
He did this for me.
His soft smile as he looks at me is enough to flip my stomach in the most irresponsible of ways.
He told me the other night to trust my gut, and right now, my gut is telling me to give in already. And he’s making it awfully hard to remember the consequences of that decision.
“If you could try to make me like you a bit less, that’d be really helpful, Em.”
His grin is lazy on his lips as he looks at me. “Can’t help it, I guess. I think we both know I’d do anything for you.”
There’s not an ounce of me that wonders if that’s true or questions his motives as to why.
And it’s a liberating, yet terrifying, realization. Because I’m pretty sure Emmett Montgomery is everything I wasn’t ever planning to go looking for.