Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Who knew something as harmless as a legal pad could cause so much distress?
I pace across the hardwood floor, stepping over scattered pieces of yellow paper.
Jon’s loopy scrawl makes my stomach turn, but I need to prepare for the upcoming series in Florida.
Reading his notes may seem stupid, but mixed into the barbwire comments are random pieces of information that could help me stay at a high level.
After last night’s win, the media called me the current best shortstop in the league. Keeping up this momentum is important if I want to stay in North Carolina with my people.
With Shay.
A pang of regret hits my temples, paired nicely with the dull ache in my chest. The yellow legal pad in Shay’s hands turned on both fight and flight mode last night. I couldn’t read her tiny script, but I already know she documented every mistake and slip up, just like Jon.
At least once a week, I swear I’ll get rid of Jon’s notes, but I hide them under my bed instead.
I didn’t want to snap at her. I tried to imagine our first postgame meeting could be like our BYOB nights from college. Shay managed to make picking apart baseball games fun. Even my mistakes. She was a breath of fresh air in a suffocating room.
But it’s different now. Her only job is to make sure I’m at my best.
My fingers itch, and I know I shouldn’t, but I swipe my phone from the coffee table and press the familiar name before I can stop myself. After one ring, a deep sigh fills my ear.
“Wow.” I laugh, slipping off my glasses. “Is that how you answer the phone for all your clients?”
“Nope. Only you.” Shay yawns. “Is everything okay?”
Not really. Last night’s dinner sits untouched on the kitchen table. An explosion of clothes went off in front of the laundry room, scattered around my partially packed suitcase. The living room looks as if a tornado destroyed an office building.
My brain is as much of a mess as my house.
“Yeah.” I cough. “I’m fine.”
The disbelieving hum she releases hits me hard. Probably because I spouted off the same lie every time she tried to check in after I left for California.
“It’s fine.”
“Everything is fine.”
“I’m fine, Shay baby. Tell me about your day.”
Cade Owens. Caretaker and peacekeeper, even at my own expense.
“You’re up early,” I say, desperate to fill the silence.
“So are you. What time are you meeting the team at the private terminal?”
I almost forgot about the game. “Nine.”
“Is there a reason you’re calling me at six in the morning?”
Because I needed to hear your voice, I think.
Papers crunch beneath me as I sit on the leather couch. “I wanted to see if you had any feedback for me before this series.”
A beat passes. “You want my advice?”
It’s physically painful to nod, but I do. “Yes.”
Another pause. “Well, my best advice is that even if you strike out, run to first base and act confident. Everyone will be too confused to stop you.”
A surprised laugh slips from me as I lie down and prop my head up against the armrest. With her voice in my ear, my body relaxes for the first time in hours. “I might give that a shot.”
“Don’t blame me if you do,” she says. “But in all seriousness, I don’t think you need any words of wisdom from me. You’re the best shortstop in the league—”
“Aw.” I press my lips together. “You think I’m the best?”
“I was going to say according to multiple articles, but whatever.” Although she doesn’t laugh, her cadence is light.
“Actually, I made a note last night that I did want to talk about.” Every fuzzy feeling dissipates at the sound of rustling paper.
“Here it is. Your height is a real advantage, and you use it well. Buck, Orlando’s pitcher, is on the shorter side, so remember that when it comes to his release point. ”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I expected. Instead of berating me, her words are insightful and helpful. But it’s not just that. It’s the way she says it. Non-judgmental and constructive.
“Oh?” Shay repeats. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep—”
“No!” I blurt. “You didn’t.” The way her face fell last night flashes across my brain. I wonder how many times I’ve been the reason for that frown. “And I want to apologize for last night. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
She hums. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to people being rude to me. Female agent and all.” The casual tone of her voice makes me want to shake every person who has ever made her feel like that. Including myself. “I need to take this call, but good luck tonight, Cade.”
The call ends before I can respond. Almost immediately, my phone vibrates with a text.
Shay Baby
If you want to sleep, I can give you a wake-up call before your flight
It’s sad to see it’s been almost two years since our last message. Changing her contact name hurts, but I would hate for someone to get the wrong idea if they saw it.
Me
I won’t be able to sleep, but feel free to call me anytime
And I mean that
Her reply is immediate.
Agent Shay
Rule number 4. No flirting
With a laugh, I stand and leave Jon’s notes behind. It doesn’t seem possible, but they don’t sting as much. For the next few hours, I’m not going to think about my old agent. I’m going to think about my new agent. Like I have since the day I met her.
And clean my house.
“Are eggplants supposed to be this big? Because this is impressive.”
Violet nudges my sore hip. “Grow up, C.C.!”
“Listen to your little sister,” Mom adds, voice crackling through the phone. “And grab the biggest ones. Gotta stuff those bad boys to the brim for tomorrow’s event.”
I hand Violet a tote bag. “Make us proud, little.”
She nods and searches through the bin of dark purple vegetables. Clear Lake’s farmers market has the best produce. On my scheduled off days, I take Mom’s grocery list, which is longer than baseball season, and do the shopping.
“We stopped by Loc & Key,” I tell Mom, twirling the brown paper bags around my wrist. Emma, my loctician, recommended giving my hair extra love, so I bought every product.
“Did Violet talk you into getting more beads?”
“Five different colors.” I check eggplants off the list when Violet gives me a thumbs-up. “Anything else you need me to get while I’m out?”
“No.” She grunts. “Off days are meant for rest, Cade Charles. Not running my errands.”
After three long days in Florida, rest would be nice, but my mother is the reason I’m able to play baseball. If grocery shopping, spending time with my little sister, and helping her cook means I don’t rest, then so be it.
“I’m failing to see the problem. I like doing these things for you.”
“Fine,” Mom yields, her voice tender. “Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay?”
I smile. “Okay, Ma.”
With a promise to be home in an hour, I hang up and take the tote from Violet’s trembling arms. Then her eyes dart behind me, she lets out an excited squeal, and she’s gone before I can grab her.
Slipping the woman behind the counter a hundred-dollar bill, I dash after Violet, but I freeze when I spot the person hugging her.
Toned legs are wrapped in sleek, black fabric that outline pure strength. Whatever fancy workout top Shay has on crisscrosses in the back, ebony skin sparkling in the sunlight. Violet’s joy is blinding as they spin in circles, and my agent looks down at her with a rare, toothy smile.
Shay has always been one to give smiles to those who deserve them.
Earn them.
“I rode the biggest slide at the water park!” Violet cheers, adjusting her swimsuit strap. “And I wasn’t even scared. C.C. took me!”
“C.C.?” Shay stiffens when she finds me, those pretty lips pressed into an unreadable line. “Cade.”
I plop my hand onto Violet’s head. “What have I told you about running away, Vi?”
Her eyes drop to the ground. “That it’s not safe because weirdos are everywhere. But I know Shay, and she’s nice! Not a weirdo.”
“Correct.” I ruffle her chlorine-soaked puffs. “Hi, Agent Shay. Whatcha doing in Clear Lake on a random Tuesday afternoon?”
Her brow cocks in a way that says it’s none of my business, but when she remembers my little sister is here too, she relaxes her evil eye. “I was at physical therapy with someone.”
She’s likely being vague on purpose, but it still hurts. I have no claim over Shay, anything she does, or anyone she sees, but the idea of someone else being able to hold and kiss her almost sends me to my knees in the middle of this farmers market.
“Want to shop with us, Shay Shay?” Violet jumps in. “We can’t find the collard greens.”
Shay shoots me a wary look. One that begs me to please let Violet down nicely, but I’m a selfish man, so I don’t give her an out.
“Yeah,” I say. “Join us.”
I try and fail to bite back a smile at the venomous stare she shoots me as Violet grips our hands and drags us down the aisle.
“You could’ve said no,” Shay mutters, refusing to look at me.
“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.”
“Rule. Four. Cade.”
I hate our rules so much. “How’s it possible that I flirted nonstop with you for years, and you never noticed, but now you can identify it easily?”
A ghost of a smile lifts her lips, but her attention is snatched away by baguettes, ciabatta, and focaccia. “Mmm. My dietitian is a foodie. I’d get her some, but she’s too far away.”
I chuckle as she snaps a photo and texts it. “You have a dietitian?”
“Yeah, one of Mallory’s old classmates. I see her virtually for my PCOS.”
Violet tugs on her arm. “What’s POCS?”
Shay pats her own belly. “PCOS. It stands for polycystic ovary syndrome. I’ve got some problems with my hormones, and it affects my ovaries.”
Nodding slowly, Violet moves her hands to her stomach. “Lisa says that’s where babies come from. Her mom’s pregnant again.”
My eyes fly to Shay’s, and I can’t even care about my little sister’s advanced knowledge of female anatomy because Shay is seconds from gracing me with the sound of her laugh.
Until someone jumps in front of us.
“Oh my gosh! Cade Owens! I was grabbing beets and wanted to stay hi! I’ve been dying to meet you.” A slender hand is thrust at me. “I’m Summer Moore with the Carolina Gazette.”
Talking to the media may be part of the job, but I despise it. While some reporters are kind and compassionate, others are deeply personal and intrusive. It’s hard to decide which side of the spectrum Summer will fall on with her severe bun and wild eyes.
“Hi, Summer,” I say, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“How are you feeling about moving back to North Carolina? How have things been? Oh my gosh! Your sister is so cute. How old are you? Seven? Eight?” Curious eyes shift to Shay after squealing when Violet holds up eight fingers.
“And who are you? Are you his girlfriend? All social media says Cade is single, but I believe privacy is so important.”
As if she’s my bodyguard, Shay steps slightly in front of me, and I’m hit by the heavenly scent of wildflowers.
The barrage of questions doesn’t seem to affect her as she shifts into work mode. “Hello. I’m Shaylene Turner, Cade’s agent with Permian Sports Agency.”
Seeing her like this is kind of hot.
Okay. It’s super hot.
Summer’s pupils somehow dilate further. “Holy shit!”
Violet reaches up and taps the reporter’s arm. “Language,” she scolds.
“Sorry,” Summer whispers, letting out a winded breath. “I’m sorry. Last I heard, you were being repped by Jon Sweeney. Is this a recent change?”
Shay nods. “Yes, we started working together a few weeks ago.”
“Wow, Shaylene. Can I call you that? Or do you prefer Turner?”
“I prefer Shay or Shaylene, but most people call me Turner since it sounds a bit more—”
“Masculine.” Summer sucks her teeth. “Screw them. I’m gonna call you Shay.
” The reporter pulls a notepad from her pocket and turns to me.
“I’m happy to hear you’ve found new local representation, and I’m even happier that she’s a she!
What made you choose Shay over all the other agents who were desperate to work with you? ”
When asked this question in the past about Jon, I could barely string together an answer. But my reply flows freely after only two weeks with Shay.
“It was an easy decision,” I say. “She’s knowledgeable, dedicated, and cares about her clients more than anyone I know. There’s nobody I’d rather work with.”
Pleased with my answer, Summer bounces on her toes. “The paper’s going to love this! Can I get a photo of you guys for social media?”
I say yes automatically, but when I notice Shay’s frozen expression, I pause. “One second, Summer.” When she steps back to set up her camera, I face Shay. “What’s wrong?”
Her fingers pick at her forehead. “I can’t take a picture.”
“Is it not professional to take one with me?”
I savor her annoyed exhale. “Agents and clients take photos for social media all the time.” Hovering over her chin, she pulls at something I can’t see.
“My acne hasn’t been kind to me lately. And my facial hair is much thicker than I’d like.
I haven’t shaved in a few days. I’m just not prepared for a photoshoot. ”
My hands twitch at my side, desperate to reach out and touch her face. She didn’t need to prepare because she’s absolutely perfect.
She looks away. “And physical therapy was with a client, but I’m in tights and a crop top! I can’t be photographed like this.”
Learning that she was at physical therapy for work and not with a love interest eases some of my fear, but only slightly. It still won’t help me get her back.
“Nobody sane wears a pantsuit to physical therapy. Wall sits would be even worse.” My joke lands, and she rewards me with a tiny snort of approval. “You look beautiful, Shay. You always do. And I’ll make sure Summer knows you were coming from a work thing, okay?”
Our eyes meet, and after a moment, she nods. “Thanks, Cade.”
Before I screw up and kiss her forehead, I turn back to Summer. “We’re ready. Can Violet be in it too?”
“Of course! I need the cutest sister in the league.” I lift Violet onto my hip and prop her in the gap Shay leaves between us. “Say cheese!” Summer cheers.
After posing and making sure Summer knows where Shay came from before this meeting, the Energizer Bunny rushes toward the parking lot.
“Oh shit,” Shay mutters, rubbing her temples.
“Language,” Violet and I say at the same time.
“Oh crap,” she corrects, which makes Violet giggle. “That story will be everywhere in twenty-four hours. The Carolina Gazette is the biggest newspaper in North Carolina.” With a tight smile, she finally meets my eye. “Well, it looks like I’m officially your agent.”
Playing with the dice in my pocket, I force myself to smile. “Looks like I’m officially your client.”
And nothing more.