Chapter 38
I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS GOING FORWARD.
Dallas
“Is now a good time to tell you that I’ve never been to a city before?” Tucker asks, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse that’s been vacant for months.
“Never?”
He shakes his head, turning around to face me, and shrugs. “Small town boy.”
His tone is flat, and for the first time since knowing Tucker, there isn’t a joke behind his words. There’s no punchline coming, and it’s an uncomfortable feeling, but I choose not to push it. If he wanted to tell me, he would.
“What time is your meeting?” he asks.
“Noon. You’re coming with me, right?”
His eyes widen and quickly shift to the Tucker I’ve known since the day I met him. “I can go?” I nod, and he begins pacing. “Oh my god. Like, I get to see the Staghorns stadium? Are other players going to be there?”
There’s the Tucker I know.
“That was my plan all along.” I laugh, grabbing my keys from the entryway table and holding the door open for him. “Let’s get going, and I’ll give you an official tour before my meeting.”
He skips toward me with a smile on his face.
I close the door behind us, locking up, and I find myself pausing with my key in the lock. As I stare down at it, it feels foreign. It’s been months since I’ve been here, since deciding to go to Bluestone Lakes when April was presented with an incredible opportunity.
It was for myself, too.
I needed to get out of here and away from the decisions that weighed on my chest.
I just didn’t know being back here would make me want to go back to Wyoming and…stay.
I don’t want to lock this over the top penthouse suite anymore. I don’t want a view that overlooks the city with horns blasting in the streets below me. I never thought I’d feel this way because being here was for one thing, and one thing only.
Baseball.
Pulling the key from the lock, I stuff it in my pocket. “Ready?”
Tucker nods. “I was born ready for this moment.”
We both laugh as we make our way to my Tahoe parked in the garage. Even driving through the city right now is bringing back all those same feelings. It’s congested and busy. It smells like shit.
How have I never noticed any of this before?
The drive to the stadium is quick, and when we pull into my designated parking spot, I turn to face Tucker, who’s looking at the stadium through the front window as if it’s lit up for game night. There’s a wonder in his eyes that reminds me of kids going to their first major league game.
“This is the greatest day of my life,” he whispers to himself.
I wish I could say the same since I’m about to have a meeting that could possibly change my entire future—a meeting where I still have yet to come to a decision.
I sigh, exiting the Tahoe, and we both make our way through the stadium.
For the next half hour, I show Tucker the locker rooms and the dugout. He walks onto the field and takes in his surroundings, looking up at the empty stadium seats. The entire time, a smile never leaves his face.
“I can’t believe I got to see the Staghorns stadium. Just…wow,” he says, looking down at his watch. “Oh, you have your meeting in two minutes.”
“Shit,” I say, checking my own watch. “Are you good here, or what are your plans?”
He shrugs. “I have no plans. I never make plans for the future.”
“Not even for the next hour?”
“Nope. I let life take me where it wants to take me,” he says proudly.
“But I do plan to walk around the main corridor of the stadium before I head outside to this bar I read about in a blog yesterday. The website told me that it was a little hole-in-the-wall joint that’s a must visit when you come to San Francisco. ”
I nod, knowing which one he’s talking about. “They shouldn’t be too busy today, either, since it’s the middle of the week and no games are happening.”
“Perfect!” He turns to walk away, but stops to face me again. “And Dallas?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for showing me all of this. I’m lucky to call you a friend, and I want you to know that whatever you decide today in your meeting—which I know is weighing heavily on your mind, I just didn’t want to bring it up.
You can’t get rid of me.” He shrugs. “I’m still going to be your best friend.
As someone who doesn’t plan much in advance and goes with the flow, I hope you follow where your heart tells you to go. ”
I narrow my eyes because what the hell was that?
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that was weird even for me. Nan told me to tell you that.”
Now it makes sense, and I smile. “Thank you, Tucker.”
“Anytime, coach.” And he turns to walk away, leaving me to think about how he just called me “coach.”
As I make my way to Clark’s office, championship banners and trophies from years before I ever joined the team line the walls. I find myself pausing as I look up at them, the way I always have since I first set foot inside the stadium.
Having my name attached to one of these cold, gleaming pieces of metal has always been the dream.
I pictured myself lifting one over my head under the stadium lights, champagne spraying, the crowd screaming my name, and confetti raining down as everything finally comes to life.
I used to look at these, and it would make me work harder—play harder.
I did everything in my power to make it happen, and it never did.
Looking at them now, I don’t feel that way anymore.
Everything has changed.
I no longer feel the strong desire to push for it like I did when I was playing, or the gut-wrenching pain of never achieving it after my career ended.
I realize in this moment, I don’t want this anymore.
I’ll always love baseball, but there’s no way I can come back here.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I check for the millionth time to see if there’s anything from Poppy.
Nothing.
I begged her to tell me to stay—to give me a reason to stay. She didn’t, and I don’t blame her. With how much I’ve grown to know her, she doesn’t want to be the reason I make my choice.
Little does she know, she’s every single reason.
She’s changed my life in more ways than one. Without even trying, she’s helped me learn that baseball isn’t the only thing that matters in life. There’s so much more out there than just this sport, and there are ways I can still keep it in my life.
A throat clears to my left, and I snap my head to find Clark leaning against the door frame of his office.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I tell him, making my way to his door. “Got a little sidetracked.”
“No need to be sorry, son. Come on in.”
We both make our way into his office, and I take the seat across from his desk. My palms feel sweaty because even with all those thoughts and revelations since coming back to this stadium, I still don’t fucking know what I’m doing here.
“Thanks for coming out here for this meeting. I know we’re supposed to meet with the board today, but they had another meeting set up at the same time. I also figured you’d be better off with just me.”
I nod.
“First things first, how was your time off?”
“It was…exactly what I needed.”
He grins, because this was partly his idea, too. “That’s good to hear. Did you find ways to keep yourself busy?”
“I did. My sole focus was Sage, of course. I never had the chance to be a primary parent for her, and it was nice to get that opportunity. She loves it in Bluestone Lakes.”
“Do you?”
I swallow, because how do I tell the man who changed my life that the town I found online did the same thing in the short time I was there?
I lean forward, clasping my hands together and resting my elbows on my knees.
“I’m going to be straight up with you, sir.
When I left here months ago, I didn’t want to do it.
I didn’t like the idea of a break, even though everyone told me I should.
You know better than anyone else that baseball has always been my life.
To the point that I put it before everything.
My marriage. My daughter.” I swallow past the emotions sitting thick in my throat.
“And myself. Leaving all of this behind to go to a small town changed everything.”
Clark sits there, shock written all over his face because he didn’t expect any of that. Hell, I didn’t either. His features eventually soften, and I see the corner of his lips twist into a grin.
“That’s all I ever wanted for you.”
“Huh?”
“Since the day I met you, you’ve been this incredible baseball player.
I knew you would make it to the big leagues.
I never thought I’d get to witness it and continue to work with you.
” He laughs lightly. “But it’s been an honor.
However, you’ve always been known for being a little reckless and impulsive.
It’s why I refused to hear an answer the day we lost that game.
I didn’t want you to keep jumping into something if it wasn’t making you happy.
I knew deep down it wasn’t, even though you had baseball as the head coach, it wasn’t making you happy, son. ”
“I don’t know what this means going forward.”
“It means whatever you want it to mean. You’ve clearly thought about this for a while now. And reading your face at this moment, you still don’t have an answer.” He pauses, and I remain silent. “Which tells me everything I need to know.”
He’s right.
Fuck, he’s right.
I can’t come up with a decision because there’s a part of me that feels like I’ll be letting my team, Clark, and my friends down. But the other part of me knows that my heart is stuck in Bluestone Lakes. It’s found a home in the people there, the town, the scenery. All of it.
“I can’t see myself here anymore,” I tell him honestly.
He smiles, and this time it’s laced with a profound feeling of him being proud of me. My heart hammers in my chest, and I know deep down that this is the right decision for me.
“I’ve always just wanted you to be happy, Dallas.”
His words hit me like a brick to the face, because I can’t remember the last time I ever considered my own happiness in any choice that’s been presented to me. I’ve been selfish in many of my decisions, but I never stopped to think about what would truly make me happy in the long run.
With that in mind, I can’t help but think of Poppy.
I know deep down that happiness doesn’t live in another person. You can’t just hand someone all the broken pieces of yourself and expect them to make it whole. That’s not love, it’s dependency dressed up in romance.
But there’s something to be said about having the right person beside you.
Someone who sees you.
Not because that person or place is your happiness, but because they remind you that it’s still possible. It’s not that Poppy makes me happy, but with her, she sticks around and makes everything feel lighter.
She stays.
“Then I think it’s time for me to go back to Bluestone Lakes,” I finally tell Clark.
He smiles and nods. “I think it’s time.”
I stand from the chair, and Clark does the same, extending his arm out over the desk. Shaking it feels like the decision has been made, and I can’t help but feel the weight of everything lifting off my shoulders.
It feels right.
I hate the idea of putting this team and stadium behind me, but it feels like what I need to be doing.
Clark rounds the desk, stopping briefly before me before wrapping his arms around my upper body, pulling me into him the way a dad would his son. My body stiffens for a moment before I return his embrace. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out through the emotions taking over. “For everything through the years. You’ve always been like the dad I never had, and I’ll never find the proper words to tell you what that means to me.”
He pulls back from the hug, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get out of here, son.”
We both laugh, and I make my way out of his office. Stopping by the old trophy display once more to take in the life I’ve always wanted that’s now in the rearview mirror.
I sacrificed so damn much for that dream—birthdays, summers, relationships, without so much as batting an eye, and constantly telling myself that it would be worth it when I had one of these in my hands.
But now? Now I see my daughter running around the backyard of our rental in Bluestone Lakes, laughing with her arms in the air as she spins in circles. I see Poppy standing in the doorway with a coffee in hand and watching her with a smile on her face.
There’s a strange feeling of peace in realizing that the thing you chased for your entire life wasn’t the thing that mattered the most.
The desire will always be inside of me to win a championship, but it’s not everything anymore.
I used to believe that having a trophy would define me.
Now I know it won’t.
It’s focusing on my own happiness that will.
Strangely enough, that feels like winning a championship, too.