Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Scottie
I’m more nervous watching Lucas in his first real interview than I was watching him pitch, which is saying a lot, considering my intestines tied themselves into knots so tight during the game, I forgot to reapply sunscreen and now have two hot stripes along my upper thighs where my shorts rode up when I sat.
Stupid, Quinn.
Lucas is the last interview I care about. A couple of high-A players will come next, but they’re not my problem.
Not that Lucas is a problem.
During the sixth inning, right as I was slipping out to coordinate player availability for postgame media, Jake’s agent grabbed my elbow and told me what a good job I was doing for Jake. He mentioned a possible endorsement deal with some surprising companies—including a laundry detergent.
“Laundry detergent? You really see Jake as the face of Tide?”
“They love seeing him clean up his act. It’s a compelling story. And the endorsement is worth a strong seven figures. In fact, I bet I could get them to get you involved, and we could see about some of that money coming to you.”
I felt like my soul was getting stained just listening to him. Entering a fake relationship with Jake to keep him from getting sent down to the minors was one thing. It felt noble. But this … this was nothing but money. Lying for an endorsement.
“I don’t think I’ll have the time for that.
It’s almost March,” I said, emphasizing the month to remind him of what we’d agreed on.
Most recently, that is. Jake and I were only supposed to date until he reported for Spring Training and would be the Firebirds’ problem.
Pushing it until the season opener wasn’t a big deal—just a few days.
Then it was till the end of the month. And now …
“Ms. Quinn,” he said with a laugh that made me want to spit. “You have the time. What could be more important than supporting someone who means so much to you and your family? Jake talks about your parents constantly. Your mother is so happy you two are together.”
The way this man could spin …
“How’s Doug feeling about Jake?” I asked, hating the mention of my mom, trying to reorient myself.
“He’s not feeling much, seeing as things just started. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
His mention of the woods made me feel like a little girl from a fairy tale stuck in them. A Grimm fairy tale.
“This is all fascinating, but I have a real job to do,” I said, stepping back. “And it’s not branding redemption arcs.” I said it with all the firmness of a baby doe first trying to stand. But I said it, and I walked away, and that’s a victory.
Ugh.
Why am I thinking about this when I should be watching Lucas?
I fix my eyes on him and my mind, and an aching twinge of affection fills me seeing him sit at that big wooden table by himself, microphones in front of him.
He’s so good, so golden, with his long blond hair that curls up around his hat, his wide blue eyes, and his open smile.
He’s prepared so well.
So why am I so afraid they’re going to eat him alive?
Reporters immediately flag his attention.
“Fischer—”
“Which Fischer?” he asks, looking around. Then he breathes a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh, right, sorry. I’m not used to being the only one in a room.” Everyone laughs.
Maybe he’ll come out of this one okay, after all.
“Fischer—you struck out one of the best hitters in the league today. How are you feeling?”
“Honored,” he says. “It’s wild to be playing with future Hall of Famers.”
“What was going through your head when you got on the mound?”
“Nothing,” he says, laughing. “The only way I’ve made it this far is by being the dumbest guy in the room. Otherwise, I’d be too starstruck to function.”
This earns him another wave of chuckles, including one from me.
“You’re training with your sister’s boyfriend and your identical twin every day,” another reporter says. “Does it feel like you’re in the middle of a family reunion?”
He grins. “I wish. My family’s awesome, but I think Bruce would kill the vibe.” He earns another wave of laughs. Then he rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s a great clubhouse. Doug and Joe have built a strong culture, and the guys are … they’re awesome. I feel really lucky.”
“What about Jake?” Someone asks from a few rows back. “He’s notoriously difficult to play with. Have you seen any inklings of that so far?”
There it is.
“Not at all,” Lucas says. “He’s been nothing but supportive. A total pro.”
“Do you think that’s the influence of his girlfriend? She’s your player coordinator, right?”
Lucas pauses, and I almost stop breathing. This is a brilliantly phrased series of questions, and it puts Lucas in a tighter spot than anyone could know.
His eyebrows tug down into a V. “Did you guys know I’ve never played on a team without my brother?
We played together in college and got drafted together and traded together and now we’re at Spring Training together.
Everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve had someone who knows me and someone I can trust completely.
It’s like … what’s that pink stuff they put between the walls in houses?
Insulation,” he says, snapping his fingers.
“I’ve been insulated everywhere I’ve played.
” He clasps his hands beneath the table and leans forward.
“I’ve never seen Jake be anything but a pro.
But if his girlfriend being around is making a difference or not, I could see how it’s possible.
If I’d been alone all these years and finally got to be around someone who cared so much about me, it would change everything. ”
Crap.
The reporters are tripping over themselves to ask the next question. “So you think it is changing things for Jake?” a Firebirds beat reporter asks.
Lucas shrugs. “I have no way of knowing. He’s been a class act with me.”
“But you work with his girlfriend directly. Do you think she’s a good influence?”
“Sure, good people are always good influences. I don’t have any sense that Jake’s needed it.”
The questions are coming hotter and faster, and they’re coming from everywhere. I should stop him, but I’m so uncomfortable, I don’t know if that’ll tip my hand or not. I look at Gabriela, but she’s talking to another player coordinator, and her stopwatch hasn’t gone off.
“He choked Palermo last year because he thought the guy wasn’t playing hard enough. Are you worried?”
“I wasn’t there and don’t know the whole story, but I’m not worried at all.”
Redirect! I think. Has he forgotten everything I’ve coached him on?
“Why aren’t you worried?” Josh asks. “Is that because he’s changed?”
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t here last year, and I’m not in the room when those conversations happen.
All I can speak to is what I’ve seen, and what I’ve seen is a guy who shows up ready to work.
” He inhales slowly, and I can see the moment he remembers what I’ve taught him.
“I’m better suited to talk about other things. ”
“But you have to be a little worried—”
“Again, I’m better suited to talk about other things.”
Someone else raises a hand. “How will you feel if your brother doesn’t get called up and you do?”
“I’ll cheer him on like I know he’ll cheer me.”
“When’s Coop going to propose to your sister?”
“When he can beat my dad in an arm wrestle.”
“What’s the secret to working with Scottie Quinn?”
“Caffeine. A caffeinated Quinn is a happy Quinn.”
“What’s her favorite drink?”
My heart stops.
Lucas shrugs. “You’d have to ask Jake.”
Whew.
Gabriela steps forward before anyone can fire off another question. “Last one,” she says firmly.
Lucas’s final question is his plan for the season, and he says simply, “To play my best and to keep getting better.” Then he stands up. “That’s my time. Thanks, guys.” He gives Gabriela the mic pack and heads straight to the corner of the room away from the backdrop where I’m waiting.
I grab his arm and pull him down the short hallway to the video review room. The door’s propped open, but it’s empty.
I close the door.
“You let it spiral,” I say.
“Let what spiral?”
“About Jake!”
“Quinn, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I say?”
“It’s not what you said—though the story about you and Logan was a bit much. It’s about the fact that you kept entertaining their questions! We went over this!”
He’s opening his mouth, but words aren’t coming out. “I did the best I could. I’ll watch out for that next time. But … what was so bad?”
I exhale, wishing the coiling tension in my chest would release instead of bundle even tighter.
“It was too much about him. He’s gonna hate it.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have choked someone,” I mumble.
I feel as shocked as if he’d said it into a microphone. “You have no idea the stress he was under or what Palermo had been saying to him for weeks. There’s a reason Jake’s not the one who got traded after that.”
“For two seconds, can our conversations not revolve around Jake?” he asks.
“What are you talking about? We almost never talk about him.”
“Right, he’s just the … the living ghost haunting our every interaction.”
“Silent specter?”
“Is that necessary?” He looks hurt at my correction, and that almost breaks me.
A quiet whimper escapes my throat, and I lean back against the table. “No, it wasn’t. That was bratty.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
“Another word that starts with b?”
His face twists. “No. I would never say that.”
I sigh and put my hands over my face. “I’ll think it, then.” With my hands cupped over my face, my breath is hot against my skin.
Then I feel a hand tug mine down, and Lucas is looking at me like I hang the stars. “Don’t think about my girlfriend like that,” he says so quietly I wonder if I heard him right.
My breath catches—he just named something neither of us has dared to. It feels like a wish spoken out loud.
“Girlfriend?” I repeat, hating how unsteady I sound. “Is that where the line is?”