Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nate
“If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.”
Yogi Berra
The ball popped into Garcia’s glove with a satisfying snap, and the ump punched the air—strike three.
The stadium roared around us, and just like that, we locked down another win.
Not just a win—a damn good one, anchored by one of our rookies, a kid barely old enough to rent a car, pitching like he owned the world.
I stood near the dugout rail, clapping as he jogged in, grinning so hard his face could’ve cracked.
Garcia met him halfway, tackling him in a bro-hug that nearly sent both of them to the dirt.
Pavin shouted something about buying him his first legal beer, and a few of the other guys whooped and pounded the railing like we’d just clinched a playoff berth.
It felt good—right—to be part of something bigger than myself for a few minutes. Where I wasn’t worried about my future or what happened next. I felt a little like Cassidy, just living in the moment and enjoying every second of it.
Even if I wasn’t on the mound tonight, the energy still buzzed under my skin, lifting some of the weight I’d been carrying.
Inside the locker room, the noise didn’t quiet much.
Music thumped from the speakers, someone popped a bottle of cheap champagne for the rookie, and the smell of sweat, leather, and victory filled the air.
His family flew in from Chicago for the game and it almost made me nostalgic for when I had my first massive start.
My parents and Amanda were there, my ex at the time too, and nothing felt better than making the people who supported you proud.
Regret filled me, damn well knowing that Amanda was the only person still in my life from that time because I prioritized baseball over everything.
Knowing Cass could be in the stands eased some of that pang.
I peeled off my jersey, towel slung around my neck, just starting to relax when my phone started buzzing.
First one buzz. Then another. Then three in a row. What the fuck was happening?
My thoughts flew to Amanda, fear gripping me. Was she okay? Was her baby okay? I hadn’t checked in with her yet today and I felt like an ass. My fingers flew across the screen, my throat tightening when I saw my sister’s text.
Amanda: brO WHAT THE HELL
Amanda: WHY IS MATHIAS AT CASSIDY’S PLACE
Amanda: DUDE YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS LIVE WTF
Amanda: LIKE RIGHT NOW
Relief hit me first, that her and the baby were okay. But the peace was short-lived as my gut tightened, cold and heavy as the words finally clicked in my brain. Mathias … Cassidy’s ex … was at her place.
Why?
Why the fuck would he be there?
I yanked open the most recent text, and there it was—a link to the live replay.
It took a second to load, where all the noise around the locker room was drowned out. The only sound my heartbeat pulsing in my ears.
Then I saw her.
Cassidy, sitting on the floor of her apartment, ring light bright in the background, laughing with some pretty young girl like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her cheeks pink from laughing, and for a second.
She mentioned having to work but this seemed normal for her.
Nothing … about Mathias. I scrubbed the video forward, tension creeping higher with every second.
She and the girl kept laughing, kept vibing like it was just another Monday.
My chest loosened a little—until the doorbell rang.
I watched as Cassidy smiled—smiled—and joked about a delivery. I watched her open the door.
A man, who had to be her fucking ex, stepped into frame, holding flowers.
My whole body went rigid. Jaw locked. Fists clenching so hard my knuckles popped. My stomach dropped.
The live chat exploded in a frenzy—WHO IS THAT, EXCUSE ME??, IS THIS THE EX???—but I couldn’t focus on the words.
All I could see was Mathias reaching for her, leaning in like he was going to kiss her cheek.
Cassidy stumbled back, her smile cracking clean down the middle.
She didn’t laugh it off.
She didn’t play it for content.
She froze—like she didn’t know how to move, how to breathe, how to get out. Every cell in my body screamed at me to move. To grab my keys, to get to her, to do something—because she wasn’t okay.
But I was trapped on the wrong side of a screen, miles away, useless.
Harper’s voice cut through the feed, sharp and protective: “Hey, everything good there, babe?”
Cassidy jolted, blinking like she was waking up from a nightmare, and then she mumbled something. “I need to … I gotta go.”
The screen went black.
Just like that, she was gone.
And all I could do was sit there in the middle of a locker room full of celebrating teammates, my blood pounding in my ears, and feel absolutely fucking useless.
The second the screen went black, I fired off a text so fast I barely registered hitting send.
Cassidy?
You okay?
Call me. Please.
I stared at the screen, willing it to light up with three dots. Nothing. No read receipt. No buzz back. My gut twisted tighter with every heartbeat.
“Hey, O’Brien, you coming out for postgame?” Pavin called from somewhere behind me, laughing as someone popped another bottle of cheap champagne.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed my duffel with one hand. “Not tonight.”
I didn’t wait for the questions I knew were coming.
I stormed past Garcia, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop me, and out through the side door that led straight into the players’ parking lot.
The stadium lights blurred into streaks in my peripheral vision, my body moving faster than my brain could keep up with.
I threw my bag into the backseat and climbed into the truck, the door slamming hard enough to rattle my teeth.
Fumbled the keys. Swore under my breath. Started the engine with shaking hands. The second the truck roared to life, I pulled out of the lot like the asphalt was on fire under my tires.
I couldn’t sit still.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t breathe until I saw her with my own damn eyes and knew she was okay.
My phone buzzed once on the passenger seat. I lunged for it at a red light, almost dropping it again.
Amanda: Mathias left after the live ended. She did an update. No sign of him now. BUT GO CHECK ON HER, DUMBASS.
As if I needed the encouragement.
I turned onto her street, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Every worst-case scenario played on a loop inside my head—Cassidy crying, hiding, trying to hold it together with no one there to help her.
Mathias showing up again. Saying something.
Hurting her. Or what if he realized how much of a dumbass he was, and wanted her back?
What if she forgave him? What if she missed him so much and wanted to get back with him?
I couldn’t for the fuckign life of me see what Cassidy saw in the guy.
She was eons above him, and yeah, I stalked him a bit.
Not because I was obsessed with Cass. Just, needed to know her ex. Totally normal.
She couldn’t get back with him! Not when we had a PR deal right now.
Sure yeah, that’s why you’re freaking the fuck out.
Has nothing to do with you caring for her.
By the time I parked outside her apartment complex, my hands were fists against the steering wheel.
I didn’t know what I was going to say.
I just knew I wasn’t leaving until I saw her.
I’d been worried about how chaotic everything is around her and Mathias and him coming back is the last thing she needs.
The second I slammed my truck door, I was at her front door, knocking hard enough to make the frame rattle.
No answer.
I knocked again, this time calling her name. “Cassidy. It’s Nate.”
A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open.
Cassidy stood there in an oversized hoodie, hair messy, no makeup, cheeks blotchy like she’d been crying.
She crossed her arms over her chest, like she had to physically hold herself together.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, but her voice cracked.
“Checking on you. Let me in.”
After a long beat, she exhaled and ushered me inside her apartment. “I’m right in the middle of something.”
“I’ll wait. Let me know if you need a hand.”
“Just … let me finish this.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and sighed, then pointed to the couch.
I sat, my heart pounding against my ribs. The urge to demand answers was right there—why did Mathias come? What did he want? Was he still there? Yet I kept my mouth shut and took her in.
Her living room looked like a war zone of productivity.
Laptop open, three screens going, a massive spreadsheet pulled up with tabs I couldn’t even begin to decode.
A whiteboard on the wall with deadlines, notes, collaboration names I vaguely recognized from her videos.
I perched on the edge of the couch, saying nothing as she sat back down, fingers flying across the keyboard.
She muttered to herself, ticking through checklists: send contract to Harper’s team, finalize promo reel for coffee brand, draft three captions for new skincare sponsor.
Every minute, her phone buzzed—reminders, email dings, Slack notifications.
Holy shit.
I sat there in stunned silence, watching her manage a business empire like it was just another Monday. No assistant. No manager. No safety net. Just Cassidy Calloway versus the world, with a glitter pen and a Google Doc.
The more I watched, the tighter something coiled in my chest. I thought I worked hard, busting my ass to stay sharp for the Gila Monsters.
But I’d had coaches, agents, trainers, PR people, nutritionists, lawyers—an army behind me.
Cassidy had … herself.
She slammed her laptop closed after a few minutes, rubbing her temples.
“Sorry,” she said, voice low. “I just had to get that stuff out before I forgot.”
“You run all this alone?” I asked, not able to keep the disbelief out of my voice. When I first herd of her as an influencer, I imagined something very different. Not someone running a goddamn business.
She shrugged, pulling her knees up onto the couch. She sat two feet away from me and I wanted to yank her toward me.