CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE NICK
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NICK
“I wish we got to go south for spring training,” Ian grumbles, trudging forward through the snow. “Whoever decided to put training for an outdoor sport in February can go suck it.”
Any other year, I’d tackle him into a snowbank for fun, but my mood is as dull as the weather, so I settle for saying nothing at all. Jeremy’s walking with the two of us, and he’s also staying silent.
At least we’re practicing in a covered facility, not in the field.
“Anyway,” Ian continues, “we finally get to see how the rookies play. They’ve got decent stats.”
Jeremy grunts, and I can’t tell if it’s agreement or something else, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard the guy grunt before.
Maybe it really is cold. I wouldn’t know, not with how numb I’ve been all day.
And yeah, I know I’m being a baby.
What has me in this major funk is nothing more than Dean looking at flight prices in April. I tried playing the childish game of shutting his laptop with a seductive straddle, but all he did was laugh and shove me off, insisting he had to take a look before prices skyrocket.
It makes sense. He’s got a job, which is more than I can say for myself. I’ve heard exactly nothing from Detroit or any other team organization since Brad called me months ago, so I’ve all but written my prospects off.
“Are you guys okay?” Ian asks, and damn, his nervous expression isn’t one I want to see him wear.
“Yeah, I am. It’s just super fucking cold, man,” I reply, punching his shoulder.
He goes back to his usual friendly smile as soon as I do, and I kick myself, again, for tying myself up in knots over my boyfriend doing exactly what we’ve planned for.
“Alright. Do we know who’s taking care of the two rookies?
” I ask, desperate for some kind of distraction.
In my sophomore year, I chose to be the unofficial mentor for both Ian and Jeremy, and I’d like to think I did a decent job at corrupting—uh, mentoring them.
After that, the team gained a cute little tradition where we pair up a freshman with a veteran every year, and seeing it continue warms my soul up.
Ian claps a hand on Jeremy’s back. “You went to high school with Hunter, right?”
Again, Jeremy’s silent, simply offering a nod to Ian.
“Right, so I assume you’re buddying up with him?” Ian continues.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jeremy blurts out. Ian and I both jerk our heads back. “It’s just because, uh, he should get an intro that isn’t influenced by our high school team. We were really different back there, and I don’t know if I can put it aside.”
“O…kay?” I tilt my head, giving Ian a questioning look, which he returns with an equally confused frown. “I can put my hand up to show the guy around, then.”
“And I’ll do the same for Oscar,” Ian says when Jeremy stays silent. Again.
“Hey, Jeremy. Are you actually okay?” I ask him. There’s got to be something going on.
“I’m tired as shit,” he grumbles. “You kept me up all night with your fuck noises. Keep it down next time.”
“Sorry, what?” I scoff. “I stayed at Dean’s place last night.”
This guy needs to get his ears checked. Or maybe between his ears.
“Well, maybe it was the neighbors, or I was hallucinating because I’m fucked in the head.”
Ian and I share yet another look, and we don’t have a chance to dig deeper because we’ve arrived at the new varsity training center. Jeremy bolts inside, muttering something about freezing his nuts off, and we both follow with a lot less urgency.
As soon as I step in, I lock eyes with none other than Brad.
“You go ahead,” I tell Ian. “My agent’s here.”
My agent is here, and today is turning into one long series of me being confused by absolutely everything.
“Hi, Brad,” I say, stretching my arm out to greet him. “What’s going on?”
“You didn’t hear this from me, but Nowak’s case is being fast-tracked to trial,” he replies, lowering his voice to something almost inaudible. “Things are happening really fast, and Detroit’s sent scouts here, just in case.”
“Are you serious?”
“No, I’m just messing with you because I’m actually a clown masquerading as a sports agent,” he says, slapping my shoulder with one of his phones.
“Yes, I’m serious. I tried calling, but your phone was off or something and I couldn’t get through, and then I had to drive up from Boston so I could get here in time to stroke the scouts under the bleachers and sell the fuck out of you and your record. ”
I scoff. If there’s anyone who makes more sex jokes than I do, it’s Brad Davis. And it might not even be a competition.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I manage. “What do you need me to do?”
“Do what you’ve always done and be a great fucking baseball player. You’ve got this. Leave the rest to me.”
With that, he gives me a friendly slap on the shoulder with his other phone, and both of them are now ringing, so I nod and head over to the changing rooms to get ready for what’s about to be the highest-stakes practice of my life. So far, if everything works out well.
I have time to spare, so I sneak my phone out to give the good, or nerve-wracking, news to Dean.
my agent showed up at practice
Is that a good thing
yeah
and there’s scouts here
the guy who came ahead of me in the draft is going on trial so they’re giving me another look in case things go south for him
That’s good
For you
Good luck
thanks
you should add fucking a professional athlete to your bucket list so I get good vibes or whatever
Stfu
Focus on showing off
Smiling, I tuck my phone away and duck into the locker room, changing into my practice uniform and joining the rest of the team in the domed practice area. I find Ian, who’s waiting with Hunter and Oscar, and I say hi to the two freshmen.
I’ve really slacked off on socializing with the team lately. We all did individual conditioning as usual, and while Steve arranged a bunch of outings with everyone, I was distracted by a certain someone.
And right now, I’m also distracted, just in a different way. I scan the sparse audience for any sign of the promised scouts, and my gaze lands on a group of four: three guys wearing crimson sweaters, and Brad in his gray suit.
All four of them are staring straight at me.
Swallowing my unease, I return my focus to Hunter, which serves a dual purpose of cheering up the nervous freshman and showing off sportsmanlike behavior.
Although the priority now is to make sure Hunter’s nerves, which shouldn’t be rivaling mine right now, settle down in time.
“You good, Kaminski?” I ask Hunter—Jeremy didn’t answer to anything but “Jensen” for the longest time, so I’m assuming their high school team went by last names. “You’re a little quiet, not that there’s anything wrong with being quiet.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he says, clutching his left arm with his right hand.
If he’s trying to make himself smaller, one, he shouldn’t be feeling like he has to, and two, I don’t know how he thinks he’ll be successful—the guy’s a catcher, and he has the solid build to show for it.
“I’m just nervous about joining a new team. Jitters and whatnot.”
“Trust me, we don’t bite,” I joke. “Have you talked to Jeremy yet? I saw you guys played for the same team back in high school.”
Shoot. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone there, judging from the way Hunter manages to clam up even more. He’s got his chin held up, and his determined brown eyes stay fixed on me, but his expression doesn’t lie. He’s nervous. Still.
“No. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me, to be honest.”
I guessed as much from Jeremy’s weird antics earlier.
“Look, I’m gonna be straight up with you. Whatever happened in high school doesn’t matter here.” I clap Hunter on the shoulder. “This team’s different, and we get along with each other. If he gives you shit, that’s on him, and the rest of us are gonna deal with him real quick.”
The words leaving my mouth are almost unrecognizable—Jeremy’s not the kind of guy to hold a grudge on a younger teammate for two and a half years, or ice someone out the way he is now.
In fact, I haven’t even seen him since he bolted in front of us to come inside, but if his absence helps Hunter bond with the rest of us, Jeremy can stay gone.
“Hey, let’s join the team,” I say, ruffling Hunter’s hair and nodding over at the huddled mass of guys to our right. “You met them at Steve’s totally legal initiation outing, right?”
He manages to get a chuckle out. “Oh, yeah. That was a fun night.”