Chapter 6 #2
I stormed out through the tunnel and right into Cassidy Calloway’s laughter.
She leaned against the wall near the exit, scrolling through her phone, smirking at whatever she was reading.
I didn’t have to guess.
She already knew.
She was reading the posts about the curse.
“You fucking did this,” I growled, the damn video going viral, her choosing to follow my starts, all of it. “This is your fault.”
“Oh, hey, O’Brien.” She grinned, wide and easy, like she hadn’t just been the reason my fucking career was unraveling in real time. “Tough loss.”
I stopped just short of too close.
I should have walked away. Should have ignored her. Should have shoved my hands into my pockets and kept moving.
Instead, my voice came out low, dangerous. “You think this is funny?”
Her eyebrows lifted, like she wasn’t expecting me to snap.
I let out a sharp breath, ran both hands through my hair, still too wired from the game. “You’re a fucking menace.”
She gasped dramatically, hand on her chest. “Me? A menace? No, O’Brien. I’m just a fan.”
I glared at her. “Fans don’t show up wearing my name and cursing my starts.”
Her grin only widened. “Nice, so you do believe in the curse.”
“I don’t believe in shit,” I gritted out.
She hummed, tucking her phone into her bag. “That’s funny, because your followers do.”
I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
She bit her lip, like she was enjoying this way too much. “Oh, you haven’t seen it yet? The Gila Monsters fan page ran a poll.”
I had seen it. I just wasn’t about to admit it.
Cassidy took a slow step forward, invading my space, looking up at me like she knew she was in my head.
“Sixty-eight percent of people think I’m your bad luck charm,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “So. What do you think, O’Brien? You ready to beg me to stay home?”
I took one step closer, and her smirk faltered for half a second.
Good.
“Let me make something clear,” I murmured, voice even, low. “I don’t beg.”
She licked her lips, and fuck, I shouldn’t have noticed that.
Her voice dropped too, all fake concern. “That’s a shame. Because I was really looking forward to seeing you pitch again. So give me my story. I wore your jersey, give me what you owe me.”
My stomach tightened.
She was enjoying this. Enjoying fucking with me. Enjoying watching me break.
And I should have been pissed.
I was pissed.
But underneath that, buried deep? She drove me crazy but it had been years since I felt anything like this. The tension was so thick, I could feel the weight of it pressing into my chest.
Neither of us moved.
I watched her watching me, and she watched me watching her, like we were one wrong move away from something worse than a fight.
Then she grinned, all fake innocence.
“Well, you don’t seem like a story sharing mood. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have content to create.” She patted my chest, breezing past me with an addicting, floral perfume.
I blinked, barely registering the fact that she had just touched me.
“See you at the next game, O’Brien.”
Then she disappeared into the tunnel, leaving me standing there, fuming.
I was still standing there, still seething, trying to process the fact that Cassidy Calloway had just walked away victorious again, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I ignored it.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Fucking hell.
I yanked it out, expecting a text from my agent or maybe Garcia, who was probably already sending me memes about my curse.
But no.
It was from Lauren Kane, the team’s new PR director. She was overwhelmingly preppy and wanted to get creative with marketing.
Lauren (PR): Head to the media room please! Now!
I frowned.
I was done with the media. Had already suffered through enough reporters asking me if I thought my career was over because of my age, my injuries the last few years, the fact there are younger guys than me ready to edge me out.
I was done answering questions and I damn well knew this had to be about the fucking frenzy that was my life.
I knew better than to ignore her. We had to address this.
I sent back a quick Fine before shoving my phone in my pocket and making my way toward the PR offices.
I had no idea how this could possibly get worse.
Then, I opened the door.
Cassidy fucking Calloway sat on the conference table, swinging her legs, smiling at Lauren like she’d just been invited to brunch. I honestly expected mimosas to appear with how fucking happy she looked.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I barked. “You said you were leaving?”
She turned when I walked in, grinning so wide it physically hurt to look at.
“Aw,” she cooed. “Did you miss me already?”
I swore under my breath and turned to Lauren. My stomach sank when it was confirmed that we were here due to the online shit.
Lauren sighed, rubbing the side of her temples like she was already regretting this conversation.
“Sit down, O’Brien.”
I didn’t sit.
Cassidy swung her long bare legs, drawing my attention to them. They were so smooth and tanned and perfect. No. I clenched my fists and ignored how good she looked wearing my fucking jersey.
Cassidy swung her long legs, drawing my attention despite my best effort. Smooth. Tanned. Distracting. No. I clenched my fists and looked away, ignoring how good she looked wearing my damn jersey.
Lauren clapped her hands once. “Alright, we need to talk about the situation.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Jesus Christ.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But this isn’t something we can ignore. The video from two days ago has gone viral—millions of views, engagement through the roof. For the first time in years, ticket sales are spiking.”
Cassidy’s lips curved, all faux innocence. “That might be my fault. I do have a few million followers.” She flipped her hair, her sharp gaze landing right on me.
I looked at Lauren. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She ignored me. “The front office wants to flip the narrative,” she continued. “They think if we play along—let the speculation about you two run its course—it’ll keep the spotlight on the team. Fans love a good story. A fairy-tale kind of thing.”
My stomach sank. “And by story, you mean what? Turning this into a publicity stunt?”
Lauren’s tight smile said everything. “Cassidy’s already agreed to help us with the rollout. Think of it as the ‘Nine Dates’ finale. Except now, it’s her dad’s favorite player.”
Lauren didn’t blink. “The GM is. He’s thrilled. Butts in seats, sponsors calling again—it’s the best press we’ve had in ages. We’re leaning into the story, Nate. The hometown star and the beloved daughter of a team legend? It’s gold.”
I laughed, no humor in it. “You want to turn a rumor into marketing.”
She met my gaze head-on. “I want to keep this franchise alive. And if that means you play nice for a few appearances, you do it.” Her tone sharpened. “You want that contract, right? Finish strong. Go out on a high note.”
Cassidy shifted beside her, her confident mask faltering for just a second.
I looked at Cassidy, all polished hair and perfect posture, the living embodiment of the circus I couldn’t escape. And I resented her for it.
I didn’t like where this was going. At the fuck all. I crossed my arms. “Be more clear. What does this mean?”
Lauren leaned forward, all business now. “We’re going to fake-date her.”
I stared at her, convinced I had misheard. “What.”
Cassidy’s head snapped toward Lauren. “I’m sorry—we’re what now?”
Lauren pressed on. “The organization wants to shift the media’s focus. Right now, everyone’s talking about how Cassidy is ruining your career. But if you two start showing up together as a couple—”
“Absolutely not.” My response was instant.
Lauren sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Look, O’Brien. The front office is already concerned about your numbers.
They see this media circus as another reason to rethink your contract.
You need good press. And this?” She gestured to Cassidy, who was now twirling a strand of hair with an unreadable expression on her face.
“This would do it.”
My jaw locked.
I’d been in this game long enough to know what she meant. No good press meant no contract renewal. And no contract? Meant I was done. At 36, they wouldn’t keep me around out of loyalty. Maybe If I played along, I’d control the chaos instead of being blindsided by it.
Lauren shot me a sharp look. “Look, if you two start showing up together as a couple, the conversation shifts. Instead of ‘Cassidy is bad luck,’ it becomes—”
“‘Oh, look at this sweet baseball romance,’” Cassidy finished for her, grinning. “The grieving woman falls for her dad’s favorite baseball player. The headlines write themselves.”
I stared at her. She enjoyed my suffering way too much.
I turned back to Lauren, forcing my voice even despite my career being on the damn line.
“I don’t do PR stunts.”
Lauren’s expression didn’t waver. “And yet, here you are.”
I clenched my jaw. Cassidy hummed, tilting her head like she was deep in thought.
“Wait a second…” Cassidy mused. “So all I have to do is pretend to be in love with O’Brien?”
I snapped my gaze toward her. She met my glare head-on, eyes sparkling with way too much amusement. I had never wanted to strangle someone more. Or kiss her just to shut her up.
Fuck.
She smirked. “Honestly, I’m in.”