Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Scottie
My phone buzzes with a ReelTime notification, and I make the mistake of looking at it.
@KiaraKenny has tagged @MudflapsBaseball and @TheSetupMan in a moment.
The photo loads before I can stop it: a girl in a tank top bodysuit and short shorts—in late January, in South Carolina, with visibly purple skin—standing outside the stadium, doing a pouty smile at the camera like she’s auditioning for something. The caption says:
ran into my fave at camp pickup he’s even cuter in person.
I click on it before I can stop myself. There, just visible in the background, is Lucas giving the most infuriatingly casual little wave.
My lungs tighten with irritation—and something more pointed. A prickle of jealousy that makes heat flare in my chest.
Take it easy, Crazy Pants, I tell myself. You’re not dating Lucas. You’re not even thinking about Lucas, remember?
Oh, shut up.
I spend the next hour furiously juggling emails, vendor contracts, and logistics for the Mudflaps’ operations. When I’m done, instead of going home, I move on to travel arrangements for Spring Training, my fingers flying like if they can go fast enough, the knot in my chest will loosen.
I keep at it until I hear a knock at my door.
“You planning to sleep over?”
I look up and give my boss a breathy chuckle. I finish the last few words of an email and then push back from my computer. “Maybe. Your napping couch is nicer than my bed at home.”
My boss is billionaire Kayla Carville O’Shannan—you know, the one who broke off her engagement with her famous (cheater) ex and moved to Mullet Ridge after her dad bought her a minor league baseball team.
It was all the tabloids could talk about when she married the local hometown-hockey-hero-slash-bartender after only a couple of weeks.
I’m the only one who knew it was a literal marriage of convenience to get around a town ordinance about only residents being able to own businesses—listen, it’s a whole thing, and it was delightful, dang it.
Kayla puts a hand on her stomach, stroking her baby bump lovingly. With her long auburn curls and big Julia Roberts smile, she looks like she could be the Greek Goddess of Motherhood. With a Birkin bag.
“When you develop restless leg syndrome in your second trimester, I’ll buy you a napping couch,” she says.
I feel a soft pang at the way she holds her belly—a longing for something I worry I’ll never feel secure enough to have.
But I don’t let her see that. I scoff, instead. “‘First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage,’ remember? No love, no baby.”
Kayla’s eyebrows tell a story her mouth doesn’t, thankfully. “If only a dogged dedication to work could get you there.”
“No kidding.” I laugh darkly. “What are you doing here so late, anyway?”
“I’m the owner.”
“Yeah, but most owners sit in the luxury suite and write checks. You’re down here counting the stitches on the baseballs. You’re still acting as your own GM and head of Baseball Ops, Kayla.”
“Because the only person I trust to micromanage this team as well as I do literally refused the job,” she says, giving me a pointed look.
“I’m not ready for that kind of target on my back,” I shoot back. “In operations, if I miss a deadline, I get a stern email. In Baseball Ops, if I mismanage a player’s makeup—their literal headspace—I’m the one the Firebirds blame when their star prospect doesn’t pan out. No thanks.”
“You could do so much more,” she says.
“You only think that because before your dad bought you this team, you didn’t know the difference between a ball and a strike.”
“Misdirection looks terrible on you,” she teases, but she’s not pushing me. I adore her for that.
I have a hard time letting people in, but last year, seeing Kayla get emotionally manipulated by her ex and watching her try to do everything by herself instilled a deep respect in me.
I don’t open up easily, but the people who make it past my walls stay there indefinitely, and I guard them fiercely.
My family. Kayla. Even Jake, as much as I hate to admit it.
That’s the list.
I close up my laptop, thinking I’ll walk out with Kayla, but she sits in one of my office chairs, peering at me across my desk.
“The real reason I’m here so late is that Sean is on a Midwest swing. Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Columbus. The team’s in Detroit right now.”
“So you’re here when you could be watching your hockey-star husband play live tonight?”
“Did you miss the part where I said he’s in Detroit?”
I laugh. “Touché. So what were you and Doug talking about that you wanted to run by me?” Doug is the GM of the Mudflaps’ Major League affiliate, the Chicago Firebirds, and considering we’re their Triple-A team, Kayla and Doug talk a lot.
“We were talking about Team Fischer, as he calls them. But especially Lucas.”
I don’t gulp. I don’t let myself breathe in too deeply. I don’t even bat an eye. “What about him?”
“What you’d expect. Doug’s worried about their current setup man—wants to make sure he doesn’t do anything to put himself at risk before his call-up.”
“His contract dictates he can’t do anything risky off the field. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Not that kind of risk,” she says. “More like the Jake Rodgers kind.”
I flush, but Kayla and I have grown too close over the last year for either of us to mince words. “Are we talking choking a teammate or hitting on Doug’s wife at the Thanksgiving party?”
“Yes,” she says.
I sigh. “Is Doug at least happy with how Jake’s reputation is trending?”
“He’s happy Jake’s not in the tabloids for anything bad. But he still hasn’t actually apologized.”
Jake didn’t apologize??
My irritation explodes to full-on anger.
I know more of this story than pretty much anyone.
Jake got traded to the Firebirds last season and had never met Doug’s wife.
She was wearing a silicone band in place of her wedding ring, and when she went out of her way to make a difficult new player feel welcome, he mistook her kindness for flirting. And hit on her. So she hit him back.
He deserved it. And he absolutely should have apologized.
“I’ll talk to him. But it really was a misunderstanding.”
“It’s a pattern,” Kayla says. “And I desperately hope your ruse can help him break it, in case Doug makes good on his threat to send him down to our team.”
Kayla’s the only person outside my family who knows Jake and I are fake dating—and unlike my family, she thinks it’s a horrible idea.
I’ve been his “Bettyguard” for years, showing up on his arm so the tabloids get a boring story instead of a useful one.
It was fine until someone figured out who I was and made it newsworthy.
Kayla has fallen silent. I tap my nails on the stainless steel mug she gave me—empty since yesterday, because as much as she wants me to drink water, my body and soul crave caffeine.
“Doug has a request,” she says. “He wants Lucas to maximize his exposure in a way that promotes the organization’s brand before he gets called up to the Majors.
The more his star shines now, the better—for the Firebirds, for us, and especially for Lucas.
Jersey sales and endorsements could set him up for life, no matter what happens with his career. ”
My mouth goes dry. “What would that entail?”
“I want you working closely with him this season. Observing him at camp. Media prep. Public appearances. You manage the room, not him—but you’re close enough that if something’s off, you see it before it becomes a problem.” She pauses. “Come to the baseball side, Scottie. The pay’s a lot better.”
“I don’t want Baseball Ops,” I say. “I like my sleep too much to be responsible for someone’s ERA.”
“You have a way of managing difficult personalities. And delightful ones, too,” she adds with a hair flip.
I stare at her flatly. “I wouldn’t call you delightful.”
She ignores this. “Your last job was player relations coordinator for a Double-A team, and you have a degree in sports management. That’s precisely why I hired you.”
“Right, but I took a job on the business side when I came to work with you,” I argue, though leaving player relations wasn’t the only point. I hated North Dakota and this was the best opportunity available in a bigger market.
“So developing people is a hobby? Girl, haven’t you heard? Never work for free when you could charge a fee.”
“You just made that up.”
“I know, but didn’t it sound great?”
“It did,” I admit, my thoughts flashing to Jake for a brief moment. If I’d been charging all this time, I’d be a very rich woman.
But this isn’t about Jake for a change. A tug-of-war of guilt and desire as old as I am picks back up in my chest. Over the last year, Lucas has noticed me long after others have given up.
It’s an intoxicating feeling. But if experience has taught me anything, it’s that my needs are never loud enough for the people around me to hear, and sooner or later, I get pushed aside. Would that be any different with Lucas?
Working with him every day would mean seeing that smile up close. Hearing his laugh. Feeling noticed. Letting myself believe—again—that maybe this time someone might come looking for me.
But when that hope disappears, I’ll still be the one standing there pretending it doesn’t hurt.
“What do you say, Scottie?”
I pause. The hum of the mechanical mop kicks on out in the hall, and the scent of industrial cleaner drifts in. Kayla’s watching me with the particular patience of someone who already knows the answer.
“Can I get back to you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she says, and the corner of her mouth moves. “But one thing before we go. Are you worried about Jake?”
I shrug, but the answer is always.
“I need you to remember something: his needs aren’t bigger than yours—they’re just louder.”
I go still, her words slipping past the competency I wear like it’s Gucci, reaching through my rib cage to my heart.
I nod. It’s all I can do.
She smiles. “Let’s head out.”
I follow her, letting her words harden my resolve.
I already know what I’ll say tomorrow. It was a foregone conclusion the second she mentioned his name.
Now the real concern is if he’s going to bring me coffee.
And what I’ll do if he doesn’t.
***
That night, Mom posts a check-in thread, the way she does every month.
Mom
Okay, gang, what are we celebrating for everyone? Who’s going first?
Dallas
We got Mateo his passport and booked our flight to Mexico to visit Marisol’s parents next month. Bonus: no snowstorms in Puerto Morelos!
Mom
Take lots of pictures. And be sure to put sunscreen on my grandbaby!
Scottie
I want to see his baby passport! Send a pic.
Dallas
Why? Are you looking to steal my son’s identity?
Hudson
She already has a boy’s name. Mateo’s not that big a stretch.
Scottie’s Boyfriend
i’m not fake dating someone named mateo
Scottie
You’re technically not dating anyone, Jakey.
Hudson
You should be so lucky, Scot. Jake makes you look less like a spinster.
Dad
Son, you’re older than she is and haven’t been on a date in months. You might want to watch it.
Hudson
I’m too busy closing deals to date.
In fact, I closed on the Hartwell property today. Biggest deal of my career.
Mom
Hudson!! We are so proud of you!!
Dad
Great job, son!
Scottie’s Boyfriend
bro!! well done!
Dallas
Atta boy!
Mom
Scottie, what about you?
Scottie
I just got promoted. Director of Player Personnel—I’ll be working directly with the Firebirds’ top prospects starting this season.
Mom
Scottie!! That’s wonderful, sweetheart!! So proud of you!!
Dad
That’s my girl! Tell us all about it!
Does this mean you’ll travel with the team?
Get a bigger office?
Scottie’s Boyfriend
wait WHAT does this mean youre my handler now
Dallas
Oh no. You thought she was bossy before …
Mom
Jake, this could be such a good thing for you both! Scottie, I imagine this puts you in a much better position to help coordinate with Doug directly?
I haven’t had a chance to respond to Dad’s question yet, and now that things are moving, I feel stupid going back to it. Especially when the conversation has shifted like it has. Like it always does.
So I let the shift continue.
Scottie’s Boyfriend
agent’s been talking to old spice about an endorsement deal btw but they want my press to stay clean
scot you got me??
Mom
JAKE!! That’s wonderful!! What great news!
Dad
Love to hear it, son.
Hudson
If anyone can keep Jake from imploding before opening day it’s Scot.
Dallas
And just like that I’m buying Old Spice again.
Scottie
Remember the Philly press gauntlet? They called us charming. We’ve got this.
Dallas
ICONIC
Mom
You two are such a team
Hudson
No one handles Jake like Scot.
Good job with the deal, bro!
I put my phone face down on the coffee table and look at the ceiling.
No one handles Jake like Scot.
I’ve been getting that compliment my whole life.
I’m starting to wonder if it’s the only one they know how to give me.